It may be unassuming from the outside, but wait until you step inside.  You won't know which way to turn as there are so many booths to visit.  Come take a virtual stroll with me through the Trionfale Market in the Prati neighborhood; a place where lucky locals shop for the freshest everyday groceries.

Imagine being able to buy jugs of Sangiovese for your personal everyday "house wine".  sigh.  At 1.50 euros per liter........fill 'er up!

Porchetta is a beautiful thing.  It's a whole deboned pig, stuffed with fresh herbs that is baked in the oven for endless hours.  It can be purchased by the kilo, or sliced into a sandwich.  I happened to arrive not long after it had been pulled out of the oven.  So lucky me, I just got a free taste.  Tender, juicy and delicious.  What a lovely way to start the morning.

Salami lover?  Me too!  This booth was like a Salami Christmas with garlands of dried sausages hanging everywhere.  Oh, and if you needed a pig's head or pig ears, those were available for purchase as well.

Cheese lover?  Me too!  Hard cheeses are perfectly legal to bring back into the U.S.  I bought an entire wheel of pecorino here, had it cut into four wedges, and had each wedge vacuum sealed.  They were happy to do it for me.  When I get home, I can open one wedge at a time, leaving the others safely sealed in the fridge.  Whether cut into cubes to consume with wine, or freshly grated on a variety of pasta dishes, pecorino is always delicious.  And never toss out the rind when you get to the end.  Throw it into your soup pot for added flavor.

Need one egg, or two dozen?  It doesn't matter when you buy them by the each!  .25 euro cents per egg.

Of course fresh produce is available around every corner.  It's artichoke season, thank goodness, as I love them so.  I've had one a day since I've been here.  You can either buy them whole, or pre-trimmed and ready to cook.  They're about one U.S. dollar each.  A bargain!

And of course there is a seafood section of the market where you can find the most interesting looking things.  You can ask them to clean anything for you, and they are happy to do it.

There are great dry goods as well.  Italian cuisine is filled with all kinds of beans, grains and lentils.  These are all locally grown, and sure to be delicious.

Thanks for virtually strolling through the market with me.  I could have used your real help though, carrying all my purchases home.

Isn't it wonderful when you happen upon the unexpected....especially when the unexpected is a good thing?  I arrived in Rome yesterday completely forgetting that it's Carnevale time here!  We've all heard of famous Carnavale celebrations in Venice, New Orleans and Rio de Janeiro.  But Rome also has Carnavale festivities and the government has decided to place special emphasis on them this year, so I'll  get to see special parades, light shows, etc.  But the best part is the pastry shops (and there are a lot of them in Rome) are filled with special pastries prepared just for this occasion.  What you see are something similar to deep fried doughnut holes, and they are my favorite.  The ones on the left are filled with custard cream and the ones on the right are filled with ricotta.  Yes.  I bought both kinds. But it's okay.  I went for a run today.

And, I'm ever so grateful for that run because I discovered a new restaurant in my old neighborhood.  For starters we had Polpo agrumato con cavolo viola; Octopus with orange juice and dark caulilfower.  Who thinks of these amazing flavor combinations?!  Chef Lucio Sforza, that's who.  And it was delicious.

For our primi, we ordered Lombrichelli con tartufo nero, acciughe e mandorle; a pasta with black truffles, anchovies and garnished with sliced almonds.  Once again, this was an incredible combination of flavors that melded perfectly together.  The tartufo is so earthy, the anchovies give you a little salt hit, and the almonds, a little crunch.  Heavenly.

I know I told you in a previous blog post that I never order a primi AND a secondi.  But I was with friends, and I was sharing, and thank goodness for that.  This was baccala in umido con l'uvetta su passata di ceci;  Saltcod with raisins and tomato sauce on a bed of chickpea puree.  I really hate to sound redundant, but it was so incredibly delicious, smooth and melt-in-your-mouth.  Prior to living in Italy, I'd never had saltcod.  It's highly unattractive when you buy it at the store, but with a fair amount of prep work, it can be made into some really delicious dishes.  I'm a huge fan now.

And since I was with friends, we couldn't pass up dessert.  This was the deepest, darkest chocolate with just a hint of mint.  It too was melt-in-your-mouth and had an utterly amazing texture.

Honestly.  The things I do in the name of research.

Fall has finally arrived in Rome.  I’m not sure if this is typical weather, but the last couple of days have been glorious; 60’s and bright sunshine during the day, upper 40’s at night.  Cool and crisp just like fall days should be.  Prior to this, we were still in the mid 70’s and I was still wearing a skirt every day.  But by wearing my daily skirt, I was showing a little of my foreignness.  By the first of October, the locals were already bundled up every day regardless of the temperature.  I trekked along in my short sleeves and skirts receiving curious stares as the locals were in jackets with scarves wrapped around their necks.  It’s fall for heaven’s sake.  Why was I still wearing summer clothes?   I am obviously an Oregonian at heart.

We all know Italians are fashion conscious.  Way back in August before I went back to Oregon for a few weeks, I knew this fall’s colors were going to be charcoal gray and purple.  In early August there were great end of the season summer sales.  I was even able to pick up a few bargains with the exchange rate being bad.  But by the third week in August, it was time to think about fall.  And here, fall means charcoal gray and purple.  I’m not talking mauve, eggplant, or lavender.  I’m talking PURPLE: purple handbags, purple belts, purple shoes, purple, purple, and more purple.  And not just for women.  Oh no.  For men, the lining of a suit can be purple, and most definitely the socks.  Scarves can be purple, and purple cashmere sweaters are a “must have” item.  At first, I thought it a striking combination.  But now that every storefront has these colors, and most everyone on the street is wearing them, I just can’t bring myself to participate.  Purple is ruined for me forever…….not that it was ever my favorite color.  I am so un-chic.

Fall is a wonderful food time in Italy.  It is olive harvest time, and the season for truffles and chestnuts. Regarding olive oil, we were discussing the other night how we simply cannot believe how much of it we have consumed since we’ve been here.  I sauté with it, marinate with it, and drizzle it on the finished meal.  I’ve been sampling artisan olive oils purchased in the countryside searching out the ultimate oil.  I still haven’t found it, but we’ve had some good ones……and we drizzle it on everything.   If you’ve read my previous blogs, you know we’ve relished our experiences with steaks smothered in black truffle sauce.  I have yet to cook with them though.  Chestnuts are a childhood memory for me.  During all the years I lived on Guam, we used to travel to Japan quite often.  And if I was lucky enough to go during chestnut season, I was in heaven.  I would buy paper sacks of them from street vendors.  Here, in Rome, they’re sold in paper cones.  The first time I saw a chestnut roasting man near the Trevi Fountain, I knew fall was in the air.  Even the local gelato man has added chestnut flavored ice cream to his repertoire for the season.  And recently, we stopped by a wonderful chocolate shop featuring chocolates from Naples, and one of our purchases were shaped just like a chestnut and filled with chestnut crème.  I’ve recently purchased some from the local market, and am planning on roasting them myself in the oven.  I’ll keep you posted on how that goes.  Oh, and pears…….  The fall pears here have been simply delicious….juicy, sweet and firm.  And guess what?  The gelato man makes pear ice cream too!  It’s the best!


Rome is called the “Eternal City” supposedly because it has been a seat of power for so long.  To me, it’s called the “Eternal City” because you could live here an eternity and never see all it has to offer.  At night, it’s a different city than it is during the day.  It’s still abuzz with people but what makes this city different than most other big cities I’ve ever visited is the lack of harsh neon lighting.  Rome positively glows at night.  Every monument you saw during the day takes on a soft golden wash when the lights come on at night.  All the little side streets are lit by soft old fashioned lamps.  Every piazza’s fountain glitters.  If you think Rome is stunning by day…….wait until the sun sets.

Written Nov. 2008

Life in Rome is simply full of wonderful things to see, hear, taste, smell and feel. It literally assaults the senses.

We are lucky enough to live in the heart of ancient Rome. Our Monti neighborhood affords us immediate access to the Coliseum and Roman Forum among many other sights. Our every other day jog has us running alongside ancient ruins, and there is one corner in particular that takes my breath away every time I turn it. After we pass a gelateria, we run a narrow side street, and when we hit the corner, the Coliseum comes into full view right in front of us. Every time I see it, I can't believe I'm here.

With supposedly somewhere around 900 churches in Rome, you can sure hear the bells toll! But that's not the only sound I love. Everything closes down between 1:30-4:00pm. Everyone goes home for lunch. With the fabulous weather we've been having you can hear the clink of dishes and the sizzling of hot pots on the stove through everyone's open window. It seems like never more than a minute or two can go by without hearing a scooter on our tiny street. Oh, and the lady who lives in one of the apartments across the street from us.....has one of the loudest sneezes on earth. Seriously.

The taste of Rome! Where to begin? It would be far easier to count the number of bad meals we've had over the number of good ones. There's our favorite pizza spot around the corner, and just down the street from him is a fabulous gelateria. In a future post I'll talk about our favorite restaurants, one of which we went to night before last for fabulous Sicilian food in Trastevere. I'm cooking more now, and finding that my cooking has changed. I'm not sure if it's because I'm only cooking for two, but my cooking is simpler, never planned more than a day or two ahead, because I can't shop for more than that amount ahead. My refrigerator is quite tiny by American standards. It means everything is fresher and more seasonal.....and quite delicious if I may say so myself. Fresh pumpkin soup for lunch today!

Rome is a big city. Therefore, it has its share of bad smells along with good ones. But mostly, they're good. Come lunch time, it's hard to walk a straight line down the street as your nose leads you zigzagging from one window to another. There's nothing quite like the smell of home cooking, and when it involves garlic, onions and tomato sauce, well, it's hard not to go begging at strangers' doors. And then there's wine. Those of you who know me will come to a screeching halt here. What? Wine? Irene doesn't drink. Well, she does now! And she loves red wine.

And finally, there is the feel of Rome. It takes me back to my childhood. Having spent four years in the Canary Islands as a child, I have fond memories of hanging out at the local piazza after dinner. My parents would have drinks while my sister and I would meet friends. I would be running around and pestering the local news kiosk man for English versions of TinTin comics. Now I pester the local news kiosk for the International Herald Tribune which I can only afford to buy three days a week. The pace of life is slower here. People linger over lunch and dinner (but somehow are able to knock back an espresso in record time). It's hard to walk fast when there's something fascinating to see around every corner. Maybe it's just me......taking life slower. But I'm loving it. If you stop by, and I'm not home......just head down the street to the piazza. I'm probably there licking a gelato.

written Oct. 2008

If you stop by the Rome apartment around 8:00am, I’m more likely to see you coming before you see me.  That’s the time of day you’ll find me hanging out of the fourth floor window, with a beautiful ceramic coffee cup in hand.  No one ever looks up.  I watch the flow of life; the beginning of the day from my somewhat secret vantage point. 

In the heart of the city, we’ve managed to find a lovely quaint neighborhood to live in.  The Coliseum may only be a few minutes walk away, but we live on a quiet back street with its own cast of characters.  Rome is a late night city.  When people are sometimes just sitting down to dinner at 10:00pm, it’s hard to be out the door by 6:00am.  So you can’t blame the Romans for sleeping in a little.  We may begin to hear a few scooters around 7:00am, but the street really comes to life around 8:00am.  Prior to this people have been rising, dressing, and sipping a cappuccino with their cornetto.  But it is around 8:00am when people really start their day.

Window shutters begin to fly open and often bedding and pillows are draped over the sill to air out.  Elderly women in flowered housecoats can be seen sweeping out the doorways.  The first signs of laundry begin to appear if they were able to get a load in the machine during breakfast.  I’m lucky enough to have a terrace to hang my laundry out on.  Others drag their drying racks close to the open windows, or have lines hanging out their windows up high.  Personally, I’d be afraid of dropping a pair of underwear on a stranger’s head below.  The woman across the street from me always manages to get her laundry out to dry before me.  It might be because I’m too busy hanging out my window with my coffee watching everyone else’s life.

Lots of dogs are being walked now; their owners begging them to do their “dooty” before they have to be cooped back up in the apartment while they are at work.  One petite woman in heels a couple of doors down always gets walked by her dog.  Some are better than others about picking up.  City dogs are amazingly well behaved.  They are used to seeing lots of people and other dogs all the time.  The best don’t even need leashes; they just saunter behind their owners out for the morning stroll.  I have two favorites; Lulu and Pasquina who live around the corner and belong to the two men who run the parking garage there.  Lulu is a mixed breed of some sort, always lying in a sunny spot near the garage.  She welcomes a rub on the head and sometimes rewards with a little kiss.  Pasquina is one of the ugliest dogs I’ve ever seen.  Such a pretty name for a ……….I don’t know what.  She’s short and stumpy, like a sausage with little feet, and black and white and somewhat aloof.  But I think I love her all the same.

A couple of mornings a week, the trash collectors come.  A toy trash truck makes its bumpy way down our narrow cobblestone street.  One person drives, two people pick up bags left along the side of the street and the last person comes along with an old straw witch's broom and actually sweeps the cobblestones, collecting as many cigarette butts as possible. 

The lumpy, loud sound of metal shutters being rolled up is everywhere.  Businesses will be open soon and owners are arriving to get ready.  The front doorstep is being mopped free of dust, the front door is being wiped down, and the plants are being pulled out to reach the sun.  

Children head off to school about this time.  Some are old enough to go out the door on their own while others still need a ride on the back of mom or dad’s scooter.  I love watching a little boy across the street clamber his way up onto his mom’s scooter seat.  Once there, she plunks a helmet on his head, and away they go with the little boy’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist.  Two brothers exit a building with their father.  Dad gives each boy the Italian kiss on each cheek.  Then the two boys give each other a long embrace, clinging to each other’s neck.  And they’re off.  It brings tears to my eyes to see the affection between these family members who are only parting ways for a few hours until everyone meets again at home for lunch. 

I admit, I am a spy.  I have been privileged to peek in on the comings and goings of my many neighbors.  Rome: 8:00 a.m.  It’s a busy place, just beginning to burst into life.
(Written in Rome 2010)