The horror genre has never been a favorite of mine, and I typically avoid these types of TV shows or movies like the plague. However, about two years ago I happened to be curled up in a warm hotel room on a chilly New Year’s Eve, avoiding the crowds and the drinking and the sub-freezing temperatures. Flipping through the TV channels I stumbled upon a marathon of The Walking Dead on AMC.
One of the joys of travel is meeting strangers who become new friends, and on my most recent trip to Rome, I met a man named Scott, a humanities professor from a university in the American Midwest who was living in Rome for several weeks while working on a book. After some conversation it was apparent that we were kindred spirits and I invited him to join me at my favorite restauant in Rome for lunch. Thankfully he liked my restaurant choice, and as we were parting ways for the afternoon he said that the following day he planned to go to a small restaurant called Sora Margherita he’d been to a couple of years prior. He asked if I wanted to join him and I accepted, though I was a little unnerved when he mentioned something about a waitress who’d simply seemed to despise the friend he’d dined with there the first time.
Back in my apartment I google-searched the restaurant and because I have come to rely heavily on TripAdvisor reviews, I was a bit uneasy when I noted that many of the reviews there were negative. It seemed, however, that most of the bad comments concerned the service, not the food, and many reviews mentioned a surly, rude waitress who “abused” the customers. Some said that she would “force” people to finish the food on their plates, which sounded rather scary. I wondered whether this was the same person who had “despised” Scott’s poor friend.
With a little hesitation, I headed out into the blazing Roman sun the following day and headed for Rome’s “Jewish Ghetto” neighborhood. a part of the city that I was not terribly familiar with, in search of Sora Margherita. I met Scott out front as planned and we headed inside with a little trepidation. The restaurant is a long, naoow space with maybe 15 tables. We were seated quickly, and before I even got my bearings I noticed a waitress eyeing us suspiciously, and thought, “Uh-oh”, as she swaggered over to our table. In Italian she asked us what we wanted, and having not even seen a menu we were hesitant to reply. Before we could get a sentence out, she told us just to “trust her” and she would bring us what she thought we should eat. She had a look about her that told me not to argue, and for some reason seemed to like us, so we agreed to go with the flow and allow her to choose our dishes.
I was really glad that I’d been forewarned by the TripAdvisor reviews, because otherwise I would have been even more taken by surprise than I was. Our waitress came to the table bearing a dish of marinated vegetable and before I could even react, she spooned up a healthy portion from the plate and shoved it into my mouth, a strange and triumphant look on her face as she stared at the camera that Scott had whipped out to capture the moment. I was laughing hard, but also trying not to choke to death on my food as she proceeded to break off some bread and shove a slice of that into my mouth as well. Honestly, all I could think of was that I was in some lost episode of I Love Lucy, and had to fight the urge to call Ethel for help! She did also attempt to force-feed Scott, but the look he gave her back was enough for her to back off and focus her attentions solely on me.
Thoroughout our meal we chatted with her a bit more and learned that her name was Tiziana. She really was good humored, but with just enough of an edge to let me know that I did not want to get on her bad side, and I imagine that many of the poor TripAdvisor reviewers that spoke about her rudeness and abuse had not taken her behavior with as much of a sense of fun as I did.
Aside from these antics, I thought the food was quite good. The marinated vegetables were delcious and she brought us out a couple of different pasta dishes that were quite tasty. There were a couple of other dishes that were not so memoriable, but my favorite part of the meal was dessert. (Ok, that is not uncommon for me!) It was a warm ricotta cake with black cherries and was molta, molta buona!
All in all, I would not by any means say that this was one of the best meals I’ve ever had in Rome, but it was an entertaining and decent lunch and is a memory I will carry for quite some time. And I think by the time we left I had definitely made a new friend in Tiziana, who gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek that seemed to suggest that she does have a tender side despite all evidence to the contrary! Grazie, Tiziana! Until the next time… arrivederci!
I discovered Le Tournebièvre (named evidently because it is located on Quai de la Tournelle at the corner of Rue de Bievre) on a trip to Paris in the summer of 2017. I was wandering along the quai across the river from Notre Dame, and as I got further from the crush of people and tourist-oriented cafes around Saint-Michel, I noticed a quiet, unassuming little restaurant with outdoor seating. There was one outside table available, and I took this as a sign, and settled in for a wonderful three course dinner that seemed traditionally French, but the food also had an exciting, innovative flair…
A 30 minute drive west of Milano, near the town of Arluno, lies a tiny, gastronomic oasis of green and tranquility just waiting from those adventurous enough to leve the city, get off the autostrada and find it.
This past weekend I attended the Western Psychological Association conference in Portland, Oregon. This conference happens every year and is held somewhere in the western states. Some years it’s in an exciting destination like Palm Springs, Las Vegas, Cancun, Mexico or Vancouver, Canada. Other years we find ourselves in such lackluster destinations as Sacramento, Reno or worse yet, Irvine or Burlingame, California. Therefore, my students, colleagues and I are always excited when the conference is held in Portland, and thankfully this is the 3rd time in the last 10 years that Portland was chosen as the site.
I love Portland, which bears the nickname Rose City because a banker back in the city’s history planted extensive rose gardens and invited residents to pluck a bloom for themselves and additionally, the climate is perfect for growing roses. Portland is a cosmopolitan city, but everything is on a small and manageable scale. Its streets are remarkably clean and tree-lined, and since there are very few major hills to climb, it’s a wonderful place for long, leisurely walks. Parks are adorned with beautiful flowering shrubs and flowers, babbling fountains, and statues of wildlife. The public transit system consisting of buses, streetcars and the sleek trains called MAX are quiet, comfortable and spotlessly clean; I wish I could say the same about BART, MAX’s cousin down in the San Francisco Bay Area! There is some of the west coast quirkiness in the population here, and unfortunately a very serious homelessness problem, but in general the people are mellow and polite, the downtown area amazingly quiet and manageable, and best of all, it is one of the great “foodie” capitals of the USA. On this visit I returned to several of my favorite places and got to sample some new ones as well. Thankfully, I walked everywhere, so the calories I put into my body did get burned off fairly well. At least I hope they did. I have not yet checked the scale.
Of course almost a day into my visit I realized that my camera battery was near death and I had stupidly forgotten to bring my battery charger, so if the quality of some of my photos isn’t up to speed, it’s because I was forced to rely on my horrible cell phone camera. I spent three nights in the city’s Pearl District, just north of downtown at a very comfortable and quiet Hampton Inn with a saltwater pool and a breakfast buffet featuring gourmet donuts from Sesame, one of the city’s infamous donut bakeries. Yes, given the focus on donuts in this town, I think a more apt name might be Donut City. The Pearl District is a formerly run-down area of warehouses that has been rejuvenated and is now home to galleries, boutiques, coffee houses and restaurants.
My first lunch with some of my students and colleagues was at Killer Burger, a very energetic place specializing in burgers and beer. While less adventurous folks balked at the idea, I had to order the restaurant’s signature PBPB Burger… the Peanut Butter, Pickle and Bacon Burger. Yes, the burger was topped with a thick layer of peanut butter sauce, dill pickles and bacon, and the mix of sweet and sour flavors, and smooth and crunchy textures was nothing short of spectacular; it was a “killer” burger indeed! And they serve “bottomless” and delicious fries as well.
For dinner with colleagues we hit Mamma Mia Trattoria, a cheerfully decorated Italian restaurant located in an historic building. Here the pasta carbonara called my name and I answered, savoring homemade linguine tossed with pancetta, onions, egg yolk, peas & parmigiana Reggiano cheese. It could have held its own against similar dishes I’ve had in Rome.
One day I ran off to the very eclectic Hawthorne District, across the Williamette River east of downtown. I paid a visit to the Waffle Window, which is literally a take away window selling all kinds of both sweet and savory waffles. Trying to pace myself, I got the half order of chicken and waffles and it did not disappoint.
But let’s talk donuts, shall we? There is Sesame Donuts that I mentioned earlier, and there is Coco’s, both very good and would shine in any metropolitan area. But this is Donut City. Almost anyone who’s been to Portland raves about the legendary Voodoo Donuts, which, while it is interesting and a good place to go if you crave a fat and sugar fix at 3AM (they are open 24 hours a day!), it has never impressed me. My impression is that they make pretty standard donuts that often strike me as a bit dry or stale and roll them in colorful candy and children’s cereal. Impressive to look at, but not my thing at all. My vote for the best donuts in town… or on this continent for that matter… is Blue Star Donuts. Totally opposite the Bohemian atmosphere of Voodoo, Blue Star is a classy, upscale place with exceptionally friendly and helpful staff. They feature about 20 varieties of donuts at any one time and most flavors come in either a traditional cake donut style or a fluffier brioche-like batter. Let your mind wander to flavors like Lemon Poppyseed, Spicy Strawberry (fresh strawberries and a hint of horseradish to give it a little zing), Raspberry-Rosemary Buttermilk or Blueberry Bourbon Basil. They even have a Crème Brulee version that looks like a real crème brulee with a hole in the center! But my personal favorite is called Passionfruit Cocoa Nib, which features a rich passionfruit frosting, tiny nibs of cocoa beans, and a hint of Cayenne pepper that leaves a sweet and spicy aftertaste that truly works. I would be in real trouble if I lived here.
For a large group dinner I got us a giant table at Mother’s Bistro, where homemade comfort food is served in generous portions for very reasonable prices. Many of my group ordered the special of the night, chicken fried steak with country gravy on a bed of mashed potatoes and collard greens. Other offerings include chicken and dumplings, gourmet mac and cheese, salmon appetizers, and everything is served with rolls and biscuits that taste like I remember them tasting in my childhood. And there should always be room for dessert. This time I shared a key lime cheesecake with my friend Bill, but their layer cakes and bread puddings vie for my attention. I went back a couple of days later for Sunday brunch with one of my students: salmon hash and blueberry pancakes made it worth getting out of bed on a rainy morning!
And perhaps one of the best eateries in the city is the Peruvian restaurant, Andina. I am not much of a drinker, but they make a cocktail here that may just be the best mixed drink I have ever tasted. It’s called Sacsayhuaman – or “Sacsay”, which our waiter pronounced sort of like “sexy.” It’s a beautiful concoction made with habanero pepper infused vodka mixed with pureed passionfruit and cane sugar, served with a sugar rim and cilantro leaf garnish. (Whoever thought up this passionfruit and pepper combination in cocktails and donuts deserves a medal!) I’ll bet you can’t drink just one…. none of us could. The food is equally impressive, and we feasted on appetizers like avocado stuffed with crabmeat, ahi tuna, ham and cheese stuffed peppers, followed by entrees of diver scallops, roast lamb, and paella. An interesting dessert was the lucuma ice cream, made from the national fruit of Peru. The waiter described the taste as something like vanilla and honey… or like a waffle. He was really pretty accurate about that and I loved every bite.
Before heading to the airport on my last day here I made a last visit to Blue Star. Another patron walked over to me and gave me a gift card. He’d used $7 of the $25 on the card and said he rarely comes to this part of the city, so he gave me the card to use! How sweet is that? Thanking him profusely I ordered yet another passionfruit and a spicy strawberry, and some coffee and then “passed it forward” by giving the remaining $12 card to the next people in line. What a nice last memory of Portland.
Alas, it was not quite my last memory. As I walked back to the hotel to get my luggage and head to the airport on MAX, a homeless woman across the street from me glared at me and started screaming, “Fat man! Fam Man! Get away from me you f”n Fat Man! You are fat and ugly! Don’t come near me! F you!” Oh well… the Lord giveth and he taketh away. I may be a little fatter after the last 4 days, but it was all worth it. I certainly hope that the United crew will not fat shame me and make me purchase a second seat on the plane home! But I sincerely hope I’ll get back to the city of roses and donuts for another visit long before the Western Psychological Association finds its way back to this charming city again.
I’ve spent a lot of time in Rome, and I have at least a half dozen restaurants there that I adore. But things happen: you can’t get a reservation, the place you love is closed, or in my case recently, I was staying in a part of the city that was far from my usual haunts. So I decided it was time to venture out and try a new place. With a little help from tripadvisor.com, I found a restaurant that got rave reviews, sounded really interesting and when I searched the map I discovered that it was literally a block from the apartment where I was staying. It was a chilly, rainy night, so a well-recommended restaurant just a stone’s throw from my place sounded like the perfect solution to my “Where do I eat tonight?” quandary. Off I went to a place called, Le Felizianerie.
This is a rather small, lively restaurant located less than a couple blocks from the Vatican Walls on Via Candia. As I arrived, several English-speaking folks were leaving and when I asked how they’d enjoyed their meal, they exuberantly described everything they’d tried and said that this had been their third visit in a week. That boded well. Inside, the décor was colorful and bright, and I was quickly greeted and seated at a perfect table by the window.
I’d read that the restaurant specialized in Italian with a bit of Asian fusion, and had trouble imagining just what that would look like. But one of the first things that caught my eye on the menu was the Salmon Teriyaki appetizer. I ordered it and it was both a visual work of art as well as one of the most delicious dishes I have ever tried. Beautiful chunks of teriyaki salmon were “decorated” with fresh ginger, lemon, olives, Asian cabbage, crispy oven-dried seaweed, and dabs of citrus mayo for dipping. It was refreshing, generously portioned and an almost startling mix of textures and flavors. A+!
One of my favorite pasta preparations is a typically Roman dish called all’amatraciana, a slightly spicy and hearty sauce made from guanciale (a sort of bacon made from pork cheek), tomatoes, onion and pecorino cheese. I usually see it served with bucatini pasta, a very thick spaghetti noodle that I would never order on a first date or if wearing any clothes I treasure, as it is almost impossible to twirl the broad noodles around one’s fork without splattering sauce in all directions! Well, Le Felizianerie featured an amatraciana dish served with paccheri, a large tube-shaped pasta that captures sauces much more effectively. I ordered that, and I have to say that this was hands down the most delicious version of this dish that I’ve had anywhere in Italy. Another A+.
I also had a refreshing glass of the house prosecco and though I was curious about dessert, I simply did not have room for it. But I’m not lamenting that decision, as I know that I’ll come back here on my next trip to Rome with a bigger appetite and ready to sample more from the menu of this great new find! Check them out! Buon Appetito!
I was born and raised in New Bedford, Massachusetts, about an hour south of Boston and a half an hour east of Providence, Rhode Island. Although I left New England in 1980 for graduate school in Virginia and subsequently southern California, it is still “home” to me, and I make visits back there several times a year, with a cross country road trip every summer and every Christmas. Because I have made the trip so many times, I begin to feel like I’m already on home turf by the time I reach Pennsylvania, but crossing the border from New York into Connecticut, one of the six New England states, means I’m “home”.