Coffee Culture

Dang, I like coffee. I drink more, or at least used to, then anyone I've ever known. I still remember getting my first really lousy espresso machine nearly 20 years ago, back when I could hardly spell espresso.  It was my pride and joy.

There was a time when my day started a double mocha from a Vietnamese donut shop for the drive to work, a mid-morning cappuccino at my desk and then a mid-afternoon pick-me-up single shot of espresso. Somehow I could still sleep at night. I think. I dialed that back a wee bit as I've gotten older and it DID begin to affect my sleep, but I  still love that life-enhancing double espresso shot(s) first thing in the morning

At home, I've since leveled up to a real espresso machine, a Breville, and buy my beans carefully after much searching for a true Italian espresso roast. My machine has its own grinder so each cup is fresh and brewed within seconds of grinding and I've adjusted the grind and amount to my taste (basically rocket fuel) to make, for me, a perfect cup of caffe.

One of the many things I adore about Italy outside the quality of the coffee, is the way in which it is prepared and the whole daily ritual built around it.  Especially here in Rome; it really hits my sweet spot. I mean, I've known good coffee.  I really like French coffee and cafe con leche in Spain is just super amazing.  About the strongest, I've ever had. And as mentioned, my own home espresso is rocket fuel.

But one's morning coffee in Rome is much more than just a tool to get one awake or becoming productive. It is a shared cultural community, a time to connect with your neighborhood, to share a conversation and a start to the day or a boost to elevate your senses in the afternoon, or after a fine meal.  It's a solid part of the entire La Dolce Vita experience.

There are a gazillion articles already on the myriad of "rules" involving Roman coffee Bar best practices so I'll skip making yet another list, except to say we've naturally fallen in line with the program with only one or two minor faux pas.  For two days when we first got here, I asked for expresso - before I realized that tagged me as an Americano. It's un caffè per favore. Coffee IS espresso. Expresso is the process of creating the beverage. We both knew in advance the rule about no cappuccino after lunch or meals. That was easy to follow. I mean who would need/want more milk after the wonderful meal? Didn't you get enough food?  So that was easy, but we did learn to not order cappuccinos or cappuccino but to just say, Due pucci, per favore.  it felt odd the first time I ordered pucci, as it sounded like a cute name for my cat, but I got over it quickly.

The other is the cafe etiquette. Just sit down, relax, find a table. Your server will find you and take care of everything. No rush. No need to come inside and ask for a table. Just choose the one you like and relax. If you're in a rush to get to that damn job, or appointment, or to go take a walk to the park or shopping, walk into the bar, belly up to the counter* and be in and out the door in 3 minutes. it's cheaper too, by about half in most bars.

*in larger Bars you should pay at the cashier first and then hand your receipt to the Barista - they have no time to waste with the puerile act of dealing with money.  They are artists.

Bar Gianicolo. My favorite table is at far right, as it has a wall-mounted clip for attaching your dog leashes. "Dog parking."

Some views from my morning table

d.

After 5 weeks, the great staff at Bar Giancolo know the dog's names, our regular order (day and night)  and we've graduated from Ciao or Prego to "A presto!" or "Arrivederci!" upon paying and leaving.  And we've met and had conversations with fellow travelers; A Swedish mural artist who honest to forking gawd met the Pope when installing some work in the Vaticana museo, many, many other dog owners and dog lovers, and just today some Russian (who thought I was Italian since their Italiano was far worse than mine, lol) tourists who of course fell under Milton and Bisou's spell.

Coffee really is about pulling people together in a shared cultural experience in a place where a conversation is the norm and point of being in public. Such a nice change from the US where everyone seems to live in their own bubble and if someone DOES speak to you in public, one's defenses automatically rise to ward off the danger of s scam artists who wants to rob you.  Such a sad way to live. 

A presto, and come by some morning to Bar Gianicolo and share some coffee and conversation.  Look for us at our regular table with the dogs, Milton and Bisou.

The best food in Italy, where to find it

...I actually read a  post on an expatriate site where a person said she found Italian food boring and not really very good. She accused Italians of having "food arrogance" whatever that means.

I'm still processing that post internally.  I had to read deeper to find that she's not here entirely by choice.  She's an American who married an Italian man and moved here to be with him, doesn't work, hasn't bothered to learn Italian, made no friends and is just disenchanted with all things Italian. Poor thing. I guess she misses her malls and big-box stores and fast food.

I figured that she's, as we say in the software game, an edge case. Statistically so low in percentage of valuation that her opinion doesn't even register when looking for trends.  But she did get me thinking about Italian cuisine and why I adore it so much.

I'm a cook. Not a chef.  Just a cook and a good one. What I see when I look around is an almost endless variety of combinations of fresh, wholesome, oftimes elegant food choices. Enough for a lifetime of exploration. Whether one is in the far southern heel of the boot, Puglia, the lights of Rome, or the far north. There is just no place in the world like it,

Anywhere you go you can find endless variations on pasta; arrabiatta, amatriciana, ragu alla Bolognese, seafood, clams, octopus, fettuccine with lemon and cream/cheese, cannelloni, tortellini ravioli,  RISOTTO*!  Then one turns one's eyes and nose to look at soups, and porchetta, and beans, glorious beans. And of course bread and dolci. Of course, you can also find a McDonald's, or a curry house, even a good old fashioned American hamburger, fries and a beer in the Trastevere. I know, I walked by one just two nights ago.  And to be honest, being a native Californian, I AM craving a taco, somewhat.

*My risotto is world famous - within the walls of my own house. long simmered arborio rice in home made pork broth, creamy yet chewy, artichoke hearts, mint and fennel and lots of garlic in large chunks so it has more sweetness than bite. 

I'm always hungry (pun intended) to learn more and one of the highlights of next month's trip to Bologna will be a Ragu & brodo, tortellini and ravioli making class on my birthday.

But wait,  I digress...

So, I thinks to myself, how could anyone say Italian food is boring?  It just doesn't register,  I'll just say categorically that she is wrong wrong wrong. Lei e' sbagliata, ne discuteremo mai più.


But what about food arrogance. Is that a reality?  Do Italians think their food is better than it really is and turn their nose up at other cuisines?  In my limited experience, I have not seen this.  I HAVE seen that every ristorante takes extraordinary pride in the quality and presentation.  This does require more research though. A conversation with some of my new friends at Bar Gianicolo is in order, I think.

And here's the thing that has just floored me from day one. On this trip, after a nearly 30 hour Hell travel day(s) of delays, missed flights, re-connections, more delays, etc...  We arrived in Milano, bone-tired, disoriented, discouraged and ravenously hungry.  Too tired to walk or think, we just went to the Osteria next door to our Airbnb. Simply because it was there and open and it was literally less than 10 steps from our front door. A small 5 or 6 table old school (with the antipasti displayed in an open tray to temp your tastebuds the moment you walk in the door) Osteria with one waiter and the owner running the whole shop, with an open kitchen where I could see the hardworking cooks.  We were served a meal that ranked in the top 5 of any meal I've had in my life. Anywhere. Really. An amazing bean soup, fried zucchini blossoms with mozzarella, and Cod prepared three ways - all perfectly.  And of course limoncello afterward gratis. They just brought the bottle and left it.  All my troubles and pains of travel floated away.

Osteria Murales

Mi adore Milano.

But the thing is, as much as this stood out as a distinctively amazing meal, every dinner or lunch we've had hit these standards of quality, pride, friendliness of owner chefs who want to share their passion for food. And it's not like I'm some Anthony Bourdain type of famous food writer recognized and schmoozed in hopes of a good review to draw in the tourists. I'm just some random guy who walks through the door, obviously an Americano by my non-moda clothes and from the minute I open my mouth, albeit one who makes the effort to blend, to pass myself off as part of the scenery. 

So I kid you not, every place we walk into, whether planned from a reference guide, or just one we stumble into because dangit, siamo tante fame, and we jump at the first place that beckons. Every single place, without exaggeration, has surpassed or been the equal of that first night in Milan. 

Conclusion:  If indeed Italians are arrogant about food - which I've yet to see, but I think if that after my conversation with some of the folks at our local cafe bar about it and the signs point even slightly to yes, well okay, they damn well deserve a little arrogance slack.

And this is exactly why I believe Italian cuisine to be the world's finest. Not just for the Michelin 3 star white jacket restaurants, which I can't afford anyway - and likely Paris is equally the match of if not better -  but that every place you chance upon in every village and city will be of such high quality that you'll feel like you've died and have entered food heaven at every turn of a cobblestoned street

.

Oh yeah, I did have one place that slightly overcooked my suppli, but it was still so good and full of stretchy, twangy mozzarella that it brought tears to my eyes. 

The following gallery is composed of some of the food I've devoured on this trip. By no means comprehensive as often by the time I think to take a photo it's too late and it's all gone.  

Case in point:  Anticha Arche, a ristorante 50 steps from our house which by chance IS a 3-star restaurant and considered one of the best in Rome -  We went on a Tuesday night in the rain (just because it was close) and were one of three customers and had a meal to rival any Chez Panisse celebration back in Berkeley. 

Of particular note was the dolce which was so complex (5 different elements of flavors - strawberries, and cream and pistachios and orange and lime) that they brought me a pre-dolce/dolce to keep me occupied while they created it. Dio mio!! 

Street food: a porchette panino made before your eyes

Fresh produce is everywhere

Gnocchi!!

Testaccio open market

A fish with bait still in its mouth

There's the slightly overcooked suppli. Still tasty though.

Let me tell you about my next film project

My delightful breakfast and coffee companions

 The best pizza in Rome.  In Trastevere -  La Renella Forno

And...And.... we haven't even gotten to Bologna or Modena yet. The future looks bright.

A presto!

Secret Places.

We've been here well over a month now and our daily walks while often are over now familiar neighborhood streets, we also, almost daily stumble onto secret little parts of Rome. So much beauty, so much history everywhere. I think it might take a lifetime to discover it all.

Today we found a park only a block or two from our house behind some old wrought iron gates, directly adjacent to the busy center of Monte Verde that used to be the grounds of a lavish 15th-century villa, with bucolic grounds dotted by fountains and sculptures and even quiet resting places carved into the stone walls.

Villa Barberini: The estate has passed hands four times over the centuries from the Barberini's to another wealthy Italian family who lost it in as they say, "Incorrect financial speculation." Then it was bought by wealthy Americans who spent 30+ years restoring it to its former splendor - gardens, sculptures, the house. When they died they gave it to Mussolini, on the condition he make it a public space; and he did.

It's now an institute of Germanic studies with the only real change over the centuries being the open porch at ground level and the open courtyard are no more. Still, a place brimming with 15th-century ghosts of fancy coaches,  romantic strolls in the garden, and dinners on the rooftop terrace with the view of the entire skyline of Rome.

Today it was a slow stroll on a Saturday; dog central where Bisou got to play ball chase till her legs were like jelly and Milton met a bunch of friendly Roman dogs. A beautiful day on a broken cloud sunny day in Rome.

Greeted by Satyrs as you enter through the gates.

Prime dog ball throwing field. Bisou was in Paradiso.

I love a tree tunnel and this one was spectacular with golden leaves all around.

bisou's new boyfriend and pal of Milton. He followed us all around the estate.

A family resting by a fountain by the main carriage path entrance

A few of the 7' tall figures in a half-circle hedge display.  Wine is the theme.

The main house. The bottom green doors used to be open to a huge porch and courtyard. It must have been glorious in the heat of summer.

A fountain of woodland nymphs in front of the house.

I wonder what we'll find tomorrow?


A Presto