Blog Over
As I prepare to leave Rome and embark on a new adventure, I will not longer be continuing with this blog. However, stay tuned, as the blog is likely to change scope as I get settled in my new home/city/country in the next few months.
A US man's wine and food adventures in the bel paese
As I prepare to leave Rome and embark on a new adventure, I will not longer be continuing with this blog. However, stay tuned, as the blog is likely to change scope as I get settled in my new home/city/country in the next few months.
I’ve been to this place three times now. That usually means that it is a good find. However, my visits to Ditirambo took place over a period of three years, with at least a year separating each one. The first time was by far the best, and I seem to remember being slightly more disappointed with each successive visit. That is not to say that the quality was lacking. Perhaps I should have stuck to the meal I had the first time instead of sampling the other items on the menu. After all, I am a very “go with what you know” kind of guy.
I had been hearing about it for years. I frequent the area, yet I don’t know why I had never been there. Every resident of Rome knows about it, but only few seem to have ever really been there. Then one day, after a grueling day of shopping with Federica on via Appia Nuova, I remembered that I was near it. I didn’t know the name, I only knew it by Quelli del tiramisu’ vicino a piazza Re di Roma, or, “the tiramisu’ place near piazza Re di Roma”. I decided to turn to the person who is usually the most current of all neighborhood gossip, the newsstand guy. The answer rolled off his tongue, literally, before I finished the question. Pompi, it was called, the self-proclaimed regno del tiramusu', or, “Kingdom of Tiramisu”. Bar Pompi looks like every other bar-slash-pastry shop in Rome except for that it is roughly the size of a supermarket. The espresso machine looks like something that would be used against your enemy in time of war. About 40 people donning immaculate aprons with cute little hats man the counter in an assembly line fashion. “Ok, here’s your coffee” they tell you as they rip the little receipt exactly one centimeter down the middle. “Please move down 2 meters to collect your croissant”. The coffee was delicious, but we hadn’t gone there for that. We sought out the tiramisu’. Wasn’t this place supposed to be a shrine dedicated to the god of tiramisu’? Where was it? I expected to see someone in a tiramisu’ costume greeting people at the door. I walked the length of the showcase and saw an usually high quantity of small servings of tiramisu’, we were close. One offs, if you will. I almost forgot, for those of you unfamiliar with tiramisu’, it is a very popular Italian dessert made with mascarpone cream, fresh egg yolks, sugar, and lady fingers doused in coffee. The best thing about it is that you don’t even need to cook it. The worst thing about it is that it must settle in the fridge for several hours after you make it so it doesn’t fall apart when served. It is made by taking the egg yolks, mascarpone, and sugar and whipping them into a delicate cream. Then, you dip lady finger cookies in coffee and make a layer on the bottom of the pan. Top that with cream and then you add another layer of coffee-dipped cookies. The last layer should be cream. Stick it in the fridge for 12 hours and there you have it, tiramisu’. The literal translation of “tiramisu’” is “pick me up”. And that’s what it is, a little pick me up of coffee and large amounts of sugar. And there it was, off to the side, a cargo train-length shrine dedicated to the most delightful Italian dessert, tiramisu’. There was tiramisu’ of all sizes. You can get one for yourself, or your family, your squadron, whatever, from an ashtray-sized pan to a bathtub-sized one, they were prepared for anything. I opted for one that could feed approximately 10 people, and it ran me about 15 euros. The photo you are about to see was taken about 0.0005 seconds after the box was opened. That is all that needs to be said.
Labels: italian desserts, tiramisù
In a country in which 98% of the inhabitants claim to be Catholic, it goes without saying that Easter is some what of a big deal. As with every other major religious holiday in Italy, there is a state decree stating that every citizen must gain 5kg by the time they return to work the following Tuesday. Italians do not joke when it comes to holidays. Similar to Christmas, day following Easter is a day off from work as well. For lack of a better name, they dubbed it Pasquetta, or, “Little Easter”. After all, when one thinks about the quantity of food that is consumed the day which honors that dramatic moment in our Lord’s life, an extra day of rest is often needed to focus on the body’s digestive process. In Italy, work somehow always greatly interferes with the digestive functions of the human body, and that it is why is absolutely must be avoided in the days immediately following a holiday.
Dump the desired amount of flour into a bowl. There were to be 5 hearty-appetited people at lunch, so I put about two-thirds of a 1 kg bag. The real pros put it right on the table, but if you’re inexperienced like me, that can be a real mess. Use the bowl. Next, take your finger to make a “hole” in the middle of the mountain of flour. Once you are satisfied with the dimensions of your hole, crack the eggs and throw them in one by one. Then, use your finger the whip the eggs so that some flour slowly falls into the hole, so that the flour and eggs begin to have a dough-like consistency.
For those of you who do not want to be bothered with grimy hardened egg and flour caked on your fingernails for the next ten days, use a sturdy wooden spoon. Add a bit of water and salt, until the concoction becomes a big lump of yellow pizza dough. Once it becomes like this, keep kneading it for a little while, then let it sit for a half hour or so. It cannot be to hard, as you’ll need to be able to work with it. It needs to be have a consistency somewhere between soft pizza dough and clay. At this point, I decided that my lasagna was going to contain zucchini and eggplant. I went ahead and sliced the zucchini and eggplant into very small pieces and let them simmer in separate frying pans with some olive oil, garlic, and onion.
Throw in a bit of salt and keep tasting them until you think they are good. They will need to cook for at least a half hour, I’d say. At this point, you might as well cut up some fresh mozzarella (please, none of that Polly O chemical stuff) and grate your parmigiano cheese and put it aside. Once you have that under control, go back to your lump of yellow dough and smell it. Doesn’t it smell good? Good, now, rip it into smaller lumps and flatten it out with a sturdy rolling pin so it becomes a massive thin sheet. You need to size the lumps and sheets correctly, based on the size of the plan in which you will cook the lasagna. You can always cut it after. Once you create sheets thin enough and sized correctly, you can then proceed to put them somewhere to dry out a bit.
Make sure you coat them with flour so that they don’t stick to whatever you rest them on. Let them sit for about another 15 minutes, as you do not want mush lasagna. This will probably be necessary anyway, as working each lump into a useable sheet of pasta will take some time (unless you have one of those very expensive pasta machines). Now comes the easy part. Smear some oil on the bottom of your pan and throw down the first layer of pasta, preferably the hardest, thickest one. That didn’t sound nice. Anyway, on each layer, spread some béchamel sauce. Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Béchamel sauce is quite easy to make, and even easier to mess up. Put some whole milk into a small sauce pan and add some butter and flour until it gets to a thick liquid consistency.
Too much flour will make it doughy, and too little will make it watery. If you don’t think you can handle it, simply go to the supermarket and purchase a ready made carton. Ok, back to the lasagna. Spread the béchamel sauce around your layer just so it is completely covered with a thin coating. Get the sides good, as they can get too crusty while cooking. Add your vegetables (or you tomato sauce), making sure that you’ve put enough aside to last for all 4 layers, as it was in my case. Slap down the next layer and repeat. I prefer to cover the top layer with only cheese and béchamel, although other schools of thought and las
agna theorists prefer to add the sauce as well. Do whatever you like. When you’ve completed at least 3 filled layers, stick it in the oven at 220 degrees Celsius and let it cook for about 40 minutes, checking it often. When you determine that it is finished cooking, let it sit for another 15 to 20 minutes outside of the oven, or else you risk eating lasagna soup. Buon appettito!Labels: italian home cooking
This restaurant should be classified under the T-Boning in Roma post. The name means "pig cow" and when shouted in the Italian language, the conditions of usage are similar to the American "Dammit!" or the British "Bollocks!". My reaction after eating there was quite the opposite, as it is by far the best steak house I have ever been to here in the EC (Eternal City, in case you were wondering). The wooden interior reminds me of a rustic Texan outpost, not like I have ever been to one. The only thing distinguishing it from Texas is the Italian flag instead of the set of bull horns over the front door. The staff is helpful and efficient, and they will help you work your way through understanding the various cuts and provenances of the steaks. In the back of the restaurant next to the fire pit is a huge showcase where the massive hunks of steak are proudly on display. The steak is served several ways: tagliata semplice (a mid-sized cut with no condiment), tagliata con condimento (a mid-sized slab with choices of toppings including mushrooms, thinly-sliced lard, and rocket, cherry tomato, and parmigiano shavings), or, alla Fiorentina (Florentine style, meaning that it is cut very thick and cooked bloody rare with no condiment other than salt and pepper). They boast several nationalities of beef, including Italian, Chianina (famous Tuscan cow), Danish, Irish, and Argentinian. I opted for the Danish (fatty on the outside and tender on the inside) smothered with thin slices of lardo di Colonnata. Ah, rare steak wrapped in lard, my arteries were thrilled afterwards. My dining partners opted for the leaner Argentinian topped with rocket leaves, cherry tomatoes, and parmigiano shavings. All were of utmost quality, not to mention quantity. Best of all, the steak is served on cast iron dishes which keep them sizzling while you eat them. Ragazzi... it doesn't get much better than that.
Labels: rome restaurants, san lorenzo restaurants
Ai Tre Scalini
Labels: rome wine bars