[title type="h5"]Saturday, April 19, 2014.
The Italian Buffet. Avoiding Baffetto, #1 and #2. Hostaria Constanza. In The Rain. The Crazy Cabbie.[/title]
For the first time since we left for Europe five days ago, the four of us (the Marys, The Boy and I, scattered about on two beds and a sofa) all manage to sleep late enough to catch up on jet lag. Ten straight hours for me, after which I awake at eight, but still earlier than anyone else.
[caption id="attachment_42154" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Breakfast breads at Cavalieri.[/caption]
Mary Ann beats me out of the room first, though, and when she returns from her scan of the breakfast room of the Cavalieri she is gleeful. "That's the best buffet I've ever seen," she said. When I get down there, I struggle to understand why she's so thrilled. The pastries impress her most, and she brings two large plates of assorted breads, croissants, muffins, cookies, and other bakeries to the table. One for her and one for me. (Mothers like MA always think they know exactly what their loved ones like best.) I just go along, trying also to leave space for the big assortment of fresh fruit, prosciutto and other salumi, cheeses, and smoked fish. It's lavish, but at €37 perhaps bit over the top. At the current exchange rate, this is $52. MA thought so too. She fetched the check to the front desk, there to work out yet another deal (which she said should already have been in force) by which we get a free breakfast buffet every day. At least for the two of us. This I know: I will not be back for another €37 buffet.
Almost noon by the time we finish all this. Mary Ann's sisters are gone, trying to see the Vatican Museum, where all the art treasures repose. Today is their only chance: it's closed on Easter and the day after, and then we are gone. The crowds, of course, are thick.
Mary Ann goes her own way. She read somewhere that the Trastevere and the adjacent Jewish Quarter were among the most interesting parts of Rome. They are within walking distance, but it's not a short walk. It starts to rain en route, and she never does find the neighborhood. But my wife's perseverance will not allow her to cancel her quest, just delay it a couple of days.
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Rome and pool from Cavalieri Hotel.[/caption]
I am in desperate need of some relaxation, and I spent the afternoon writing and napping, taking full advantage of the marvelous view of Rome in our room. Coming out of my slumber, I was entertained by the voices of kids in the big blue pool six stories down. They have almost too much fun, delightful to tune in. When I finally look down, I am surprised how young they are, and how deep is the pool.
Yesterday I emailed the eighty-two Eat Clubbers traveling with us for the next ten days. About half of them have come to Rome in advance of our ship's sailing, and I have two dinners planned to which they are invited. In the message I say that I won't be joining them for dinner tonight at Hostaria Constanza, because of my severe cold. But it's much better today, and well past the contagious stage.
Although Costanza is in a much-visited part of Rome, and despite the fact that we would pass in front of it accidentally several times in succeeding days, not even the cab driver is sure where Piazza Del Paradiso (Costanza's official address) is. On the other hand, everyone we ask seems to know about the place, whose reputation is strong. Among other things, we keep hearing that the downstairs room is a remnant of a theater built circa 75 B.C.E.
I told the Eat Club that we'd converge here at 6:30 p.m. When I arrive, nobody is there. The restaurant staff says, a little brusquely, that they don't open until eight. I keep forgetting or ignoring this important fact of dining in Italy: nobody eats at seven, let alone six or five.
While waiting for eight o'clock, we stroll around the neighborhood. We encounter Baffetto Pizza #2. A shiver goes down our spine. On our last trip, I had it on good authority that Baffetto was the best pizzeria in Rome. That word had spread out so far that it took almost an hour to be seated and the order. And then we were astonished that anyone could get worked up over a pie like this. We renamed the place in the Annals Of Our Family by replacing one of the f's with another letter. But here the place is again, now a multi-unit operation. The Old World is not immune to hype.
The main crowd shows up at Costanza as promised at eight. We are joined by about a dozen Eat Clubbers, plus Mary Ann's sisters and the Lovebirds. The dinner is a success after all. After many such dinners arranged on past cruises, I'm always amazed by this.
Our fifteen diners eat at a long table in a room downstairs which, it was discovered recently, was part of a theater that existed here in the time of Julius Caesar. So many places in Rome have similar stories that one begins to doubt them. In this case, at least, the authenticity is well verified.
[caption id="attachment_42158" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Cacio e pepe.[/caption]
The dinner is simple but spectacular, served by a trio of servers who could not have been more helpful. We begin with fried artichokes and several variations on the croquette theme. Then on to the pasta course. Those who liked yesterday's cacio e pepe get it again, and were rewarded by having the pepper-studded pasta served inside a bowl made by melting Parmigiano Reggiana and making it into a bowl.
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Real scampi, at Costanza.[/caption]
The most impressive of the secondi (that's what they call entrees in Italy) is a large, wide platter of scampi. Not shrimp, mind you, but true scampi, which look like long, skinny lobsters, right out of the Adriatic Sea. These things were incredibly good, even to a palate honed on blue crab, Gulf shrimp, and crawfish. We also have a thick slab of white fish (halibut, I think) with a creamy peppercorn sauce, and a pork loin with a sort of demi-glace. But no chicken! In this big menu there isn't a single dish made with poultry.
When we emerge two hours later, we find that a torrential rain has passed through, leaving rather deep puddles to be worked around. We also have a taxi problem, and not for the last time. Our family group of seven adults requires two cabs. The Boy takes over the coordination, and we shortly find ourselves in an abbreviated convoy.
Unfortunately, the one in which I am riding with Mary Ann and two of her sisters has an idiot at the wheel. Trying to take the usual route to the hotel, he finds it blocked. His first strategy is to ignore thje blockade and head up the exit ramp the wrong way. Other cabbies start honking at him, until one blocks his progress, rolls down his window, and lets loose a torrent of Italian invective--the world's most vociferous kind.
When that passes, our driver gives up and says that we will have to walk the rest of the way to the hotel. But the route is steeply uphill, it's still raining off and on, and (although we don't know this just yet) there is a landslide ahead. And, oh--it's after midnight.
After a few exchanges with the driver, I decide that he is a lunatic. As calmly as I could, I ask him to accept the full fare to that point, then to bring us to a place where another cab might be found. Which he did. The second cab had to take a long way around to get us to the hotel, but when he pulled up to the Cavalieri, he refused to accept either a fare or a tip.
Our experiences in Rome are full of lucky happenstances like this.
[title type="h5"]Hostaria Costanza. Rome, Italy. www.hostariacostanza.it[/title]
[title type="h6"] Yesterday || Tomorrow[/title]
Written by Tom Fitzmorris April 15, 2014 00:01 in
