Today was one of those days. Our first real Buon Domenica in Roma. We started out with our usual caffee at Bar Gianicolo next to the Pancrazio monument and I made a major switch. Cappuccino instead of a fast blast of caffee expresso. I wanted time to sip and enjoy, not just to pour raw, unfiltered life into my bloodstream. I also had un cornetto con marmalade instead of a la bombe con crema de limone. It is our one week to the day anniversary of finding ourselves in Roma and it was time to mix things up.
I never get tired of this view with my caffee. :30 seconds from the house.
Our destination and programma for the day was the large flea market in the piazza Porta Portese next to the Ponte Testaccio. It's a Sunday only flea market and hugely popular.
Yes it was. Not at all what we were expecting though. We envisioned stalls and stands of artisan goods and well, flea market art items spread out over a large piazza near the river. What we found was a seemingly endless narrow street flanked by stall after stall of identical knock-off clothes, shoes, gee-gaws, phone crud, hats, and touristy shirts. And it went on for well over a mile, packed with people shoulder to shoulder, lumbering stolidly onward making passage for our dogs problematic. To the poor chihuahuas, it was a nightmare forest of feet and legs they had to continually dodge to avoid being kicked or crushed. And it went on seemingly forever. Milton was near panic by the time we broke free of the lane and cut east to the River.
What a reward. The Tiber between The Trastevere and Testaccio is calm and bucolic as a late 19th-century oil painting. Just what we all needed to calm down.
From the Ponte looking north with Testaccio on the right.
From the banks of the Trastevere side of the river
We then backtracked north on the Testaccio side of the river sharing the lovely mile-long passeggiata with other famiglie (dressed far more elegante and moda than us), joggers, dog walkers. Milty and Bisou made many friends, human and fellow cane, along the way. It was as pleasant a Sunday walk as could be imaged.
Our destination was a trattoria called Bucatini in the heart of the Testaccio. This was our first disappointment. And we learned a valuable lesson today: Never, ever on a sunny as Hell perfect Sunday try to enter a good ristorante senza pronotazione. "Sorry, we're full up. You need to call first." No amount of begging could get us in. This happened again at our backup, plan B ristorante.
Hungry and tired after our miles and miles of hiking, we just headed back to the more populated streets and spun the food dice, looking for anything that was open and had seats. We only passed on one place that looked nice but had lots of empty tables. A sushi joint. Sorry, I didn't travel 7k miles to eat sushi, though it did look kinda elegant and had a good cocktail menu.
As luck would have it we found a place which had A. some lovely tables free outside looking across at the old Roman city wall and a green, forested hillside, and B, pizza bianco. I've been hearing and reading about his very Roman style of pizza/street food for a while and oby-howdy did it meet expectations. Thin crust had a similar crumb to a super hydrated loaf of ciabatta. it was filed with formaggio of course and had a toasty, crackling flavor and texture.
This just flat out beats any and all pizza I've ever had. This is now my go-to pizza and if I ever decide to come home from Italy, I will learn to make it myself. If I stay here for good, I'll just buy a slice for lunch every day until I die. Happily, I might add.
Roll with the punches, I say. The Fates know exactly what they're doing. They fully meant for me to not eat more excellent pasta today. They required me to find pizza bianca. I absolutely trust them with these sorts of decisions.
Buon Domenica e al presto!
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