Vitello tonnato and a life-changing mayonnaise hack

A few weeks back I got a craving for vitello tonnato. A Piemonte dish that probably dates to the 19th Century, it consists of cold, thinly sliced veal slathered with a tuna-flavoured mayonnaise. I know. It sounds weird but it is incredibly delicious: a combination of textures and tastes that is perfect for the hot summer months. Pellegrino Artusi — Italy’s most influential cookbook writer (he lived from 1820-1911) included a recipe for vitello tonnato in his masterwork, La scienza in cucina e l’arte di mangiare bene (The science of cooking and the art of eating well). Artusi’s recipe did not feature mayonnaise, which I wish I’d known sooner, but we’ll get to that.

Pellegrino Artusi with some mighty impressive mutton chops (cue food joke)

Pellegrino Artusi with some mighty impressive mutton chops (cue food joke)

Artusi included recipes from all of Italy’s regions in his book. It was only 20 years after the unification of Italy and he’s often credited with using food to forge a sort of national identity (as well as with giving the hegemony of French cuisine a run for its money). Pellegrino was born to a well-off family in Forlimpopoli, in the region of Romagna. In 1851, 40 years before the publication of the cookbook, a brigand named Stefano Bonelli (better known by his nickname, ‘The Ferryman’ after his father’s profession) and his bandits took hostage the Verdi Theatre, where a bunch of richies were enjoying a performance of the dramatic oratorio, The Death of Sisara. Thanks to the help of his spies (In some circles, he was seen as a sort of Robin Hood who was sticking it to the man), The Ferryman knew the identity of Forlimpopoli’s fattest cats. His men escorted them home, beat them up and robbed them blind.

The bandits also did a home invasion at the casa di Artusi (who seem to have not been at the theatre). Pellegrino was pistol-whipped; his mother was knocked down; one of his sisters was stabbed; another was brutally gang-raped (the father had fainted with shock when the bandits showed up, thus saving himself the indignity of a beating). The family fled to Florence the next day. The sister who had been raped went mad and spent the rest of her life in an asylum. Isn’t that horrible? Anyway, Artusi’s cookbook is delightful and if you care about Italian food, you should have a look.

Il Passatore: The Ferryman

Il Passatore: The Ferryman

Vitello tonnato is one of those traditional dishes that you used to see on menus all the time and now hardly ever do. If I wanted to appease my craving, I was going to have to make it myself. The problem is that this involved a multi-stage and somewhat fiddly process and I am an accomplished but extremely lazy cook. There are a many different ways to make vitello tonnato but the one I used involved browning and then braising the veal; letting it rest overnight; and composing an elaborate mayonnaise made from tuna, capers, anchovies and other yummy things. Ah. Mayonnaise. I had forgotten about that part.

I have tried (and mostly failed) to make mayonnaise on several occasions in the past. I love homemade mayo but I just have never had the knack. I was determined to do the vitello tonnato thing though so I forged ahead, guns a’blazing. Gigantic fail. Gigantic. Before starting, I consulted about a million mayonnaise recipes, each of which was, of course, different. They differed in the order in which to add the ingredients, in whether to use the egg white as well as the yolk and in which beating implement to use. They all agreed that the eggs should be at room temperature and that the oil should go in drop by drop until emulsification was achieved. Or not.

I had the opportunity to use each of the suggested beating implements (blender, food processor, mixer, whisk) and all the ingredients in every possible configuration because I MADE FIVE ATTEMPTS before I (sort-of) got it right. FIVE! What on Earth was I doing wrong? How do the Frenchies do it? The hardest bit is the drop by drop part but I managed to master that with the help of a drinking straw (patent pending).

Okay, well that sorry incident finally passed and, in the end, resulted in a very nice vitello tonnato. By then, my stubborn gene had kicked in and I knew that would not rest until I was able to make perfect mayonnaise. Mayo had become my labours of Hercules, my search for Moby Dick, my cutting down the mightiest tree in the forest with a herring, so to speak. And then I found this at The Healthy Foodie. It’s simple; it’s foolproof; no need for room temperature eggs; no need for any beating implement but the minipimer (meeniepeemerrr) a.k.a. the only kitchen tool you will ever really need; and it takes about 30 seconds. Thank you Healthy Foodie, for changing my life!





People sometimes think that because Rome was declared an open city during World War II it was safe from attacks. That is very far from the truth. First of all, the open city status didn’t come off until an awful lot of damage had already been inflicted. After Mussolini’s downfall, the government that replaced him — led by the craven Pietro Badoglio — announced that Rome was a demilitarized zone, hoping to safeguard all of its precious treasures. The Allies didn’t necessarily agree and continued to lob bombs at the city until mid-August 1943 when they agreed to lighten up (probably because they were already in surrender talks with the Italian government). Bombs continued to fall from time to time even after the open city declaration was confirmed (including on the Vatican, twice, although Germany was responsible for one of those). All told, the Allies dropped 60 000 bombs on Rome during World War II. 

On September 3, Badoglio surrendered to the Allies, who had already landed on the toe of Italy’s boot and, sensing that Hitler would not be pleased by this development (he was not, although he had been expecting it), he buggered off (at dawn) to Brindisi with his buddy King Victor Emmanuel III. Hitler promptly took control of most of Italy, including Rome, disarmed tens of thousands of Italian troops (so the Germans wouldn’t have to fight them), busted Mussolini out of jail and set him up in a puppet regime known as the Repubblica di Salò on Lake Garda, near Brescia.

The head of Venusia from Fellini's film Casanova greets you at the entrance to Cinecitta.

The head of Venusia from Fellini’s film Casanova greets you at the entrance to Cinecitta’.

You might wonder what any of this has to do with the largest film studio in Europe. I’ll be getting to that. But first let’s talk some more about Mussolini. It is no secret that he was massively vainglorious and blustery and that he loved to hear himself speak. So naturally, he went into the movies. In 1937, Il Duce inaugurated Cinecittà, handing the reins to Luigi Freddi, who had previously been the vice secretary of Fasci Italiani all’Estero, an organization that sought to convert expatriate Italians to fascism. So, lots of film experience there. Not.  But experience probably mattered less to Mussolini than Freddi’s fascist loyalty since a major purpose (but not the only one — he also wanted to boost Italy’s feature film industry) of Cinecittà was to roll out propaganda films disguised as cinema. For example, Scipione l’africano wasn’t actually about Scipio’s defeat of Hannibal at the Battle of Zama in 202 B.C.E. It was about the Italian military victory in Ethiopia in 1936. Meanwhile, the Istituto Luce was producing hundreds of newsreels a year showing Mussolini striding around in the snow bare-chested or fulminating from his office balcony in Piazza Venezia. Starting in 1926, every one of Italy’s 2 500 movie theatres was obligated to show one Luce newsreel a week. In 1929, an estimated 13 million viewers attended 1.2 million screenings. That’s some pretty powerful propaganda right there. BTW, Google has put 30 000 of the Luce newsreels on YouTube. They are pretty entertaining. 

Doesn't everyone go sledding with no shirt on?

Doesn’t everyone go sledding without a shirt?

In the summer of 1943, Allied bombs hit Cinecittà, destroying three of the studios. Yes, that’s what that long meandering introduction about the open city was leading up to.  Italy’s movie studios were bombed. Kinda anticlimactic, but the open city stuff is interesting I think.

Looters and the Germans did even more damage than the bombs. According to film historian Mario Verdone, “In the days that followed (the armistice), Cinecittà was ruthlessly sacked for its technical apparatus. The anonymous  looters even made off with the faucets in the bathrooms, while the Germans confiscated all the film equipment and carted it off to Germany.”

Starting in 1943 and until 1947, the Cinecittà opened its doors to about 3 000 war refugees, both Italians as well as displaced people from colonized Libya and Dalmatia. There was also an international camp, where the refugees ranged from Yugoslavia, Poland, Egypt, Iran and China. When the studios reopened after the war, the refugees sometimes worked as movie extras, receiving a token payment for their trouble. 

Neorealism and the Hollywood on the Tiber phases of Cinecittà’s existence are worthy of their own blog posts so consider this to be part one. The reason that I am writing about Cinecittà in the first place (apart from my WW2 in Italy obsession) is that I visited the place not too long ago and it was fun and interesting. You should go if you have the chance. There are two exhibitions, one permanent and one ‘current,’ which I suppose means temporary. The permanent exhibit tells the story of the building of Cinecittà and its history. Here are some fun facts to know and tell: Cinecittà consists of 73 buildings spread over 59 hectares. It was built by 1 500 workers in 475 days. It has produced over 4 000 films since 1937.

Another room is dedicated to Federico Fellini and contains photos, drawings, costumes and footage of the Maestro. The temporary exhibit, ‘Backstage,’ is all about filmaking’s main elements: direction, screenplay, sound, costume and fiction. The best was the costume room, which had touch screen tables to let you dress up virtual actors in costumes from famous movies. Paper dolls for the digital age!

The best part is the outdoor sets: Broadway (created for Gangs of New York) and Ancient Rome (created for the TV series, Rome).  There is also Florence in 1400 (created for the Italian miniseries, Francesco) but we couldn’t get in there for some reason. The sets are frequently adapted for reuse. The day we were there they were ‘directing’ a ‘movie’ set in Ancient Rome using some of the visitors as extras. Here’s Julius Caesar following his unfortunate incident in the Curia of Pompey.

Et tu, Brute?

Et tu, Brute?

I don’t even know what this is. Storm Troopers in Ancient Rome?  Anyway, the kids loved it. DSCN0127

Some sort of religious ceremony involving Vestal Virgins.

Some sort of religious ceremony involving Vestal Virgins.

Ancient Roman scenery.

Ancient Roman scenery.

The Great White Way, Roma-style.

The Great White Way, circa 1860.

Cinecittà has a nice bar and restaurant and a very acceptable book shop. If you are in Rome, you could do worse than to pay the studio a visit on a sunny afternoon.

Cinecittà, Via Tuscolana 1055

BOX OFFICE – open Monday through Sunday 09.30 to 19.00
EXHIBITION – open Monday through Sunday 09.30 to 20.00


10.00 (In Italian)
11.30 (in Italian and English)
13.00 (in Italian)
16.00 (in Italian and English)
17.30 (in Italian)
19.00 (in Italian)

Closed on Tuesdays


Celebrating the 4th of July at Villa Taverna

The Upstairs Vegetarian is a VIJ (very important journalist) and people are always inviting her to shindigs in the hope that she will write about them in her fancy newspaper. Sometimes I get to tag along as her plus one so that works out well for me. Last week, it was the 4th of July cookout at the residence of the American ambassador (which actually took place on the 3rd, but whatever). Before I get started, here are some things you might like to know about  the residence. Villa Taverna dates back to the 15th Century  although there has been stuff going on on the property much longer than that, e.g. it was owned by a monastery in the 10th Century, one pope gave it to the Jesuit German-Hungarian College in the 16th Century and another took it back in the 18th when Europe was busily suppressing the Jesuits. The German-Hungarian College is now located very near the US Embassy so that’s an interesting coincidence. The property served as a papal seminary college for awhile until it was purchased by a Milanese aristocrat in 1920. The American Embassy started renting the villa in 1933, handing it back during the war when it served as a convalescent facility for Italian soldiers. The US bought the villa in 1948. You can read more about Villa Taverna here.

A view of Villa Tavern's lovely garden

A view of Villa Tavern’s lovely garden

Now, as I said, the UV is a VIJ but there are lots of very important people in Rome apparently and when we got to the villa we were confronted with a queue that was about three blocks long. Apparently 3 000 people are invited to this party and we were about 2 8ooth in line. But the queue moved quickly and it was very entertaining to see all the Italian women teetering down the sidewalk in their very tight dresses and very high heels (it was even funnier to see them negotiate the pebble walks and grass lawns inside the villa). My favorite was a lady in her mid-sixties with pale orange hair, gigantic lips and heels so high that she must have used a stepladder to climb into them. She was concentrating incredibly hard on not falling down (which you could tell from the panic in her eyes; she couldn’t move her face due to all of the Botox). Honestly, her hair was orange — like the guy who shot all those people in the movie theatre two years ago. Remember that? That was awful.

Villa Taverna is a beautiful spot with statues, fountains and sarcophagi all over the place. There were also — more to the point — about 15 tables groaning with grub. The food was a nice combination of American and Italian styles. There was fried chicken, hamburgers and hot dogs of course (and freedom fries courtesy of McDonalds) but also pasta salads and porchetta. And about a million other things as well. For dessert there were brownies and cupcakes arranged to resemble an American flag. And there was Haagen Dazs. And popcorn.

Lining up for hamburgers

Lining up for hamburgers

The band played tunes from the Great American Songbook.

The band played tunes from the Great American Songbook — my favourite music.

Partying with 3 000 of my closest friends. The ambassador is in there somewhere too.

Partying with 3 000 of my closest friends. The ambassador is in there somewhere too.

Living room furniture on the lawn is the height of luxury. or so it seems to me.

Living room furniture on the lawn is the height of luxury. Or so it seems to me.

Now here's an interesting cultural difference. The Americans took one each of these little sugared almond bouquet things. The Italians took at least three!

Now here’s an interesting cultural observation, which I will make without further comment. The Americans took one each of these little sugared almond bouquet things. The Italians took at least three!

I thought this was cute.

As American as apple pie (and baseball)


The other night I went to Angelina for dinner. But before I get to that, just let me tangent for half a mo. Earlier this month I was back in the USA checking out the old folks and going to my college reunion. I went to Princeton (b***h) and our reunions are supposedly the best attended in the world. About a third of my class of 1100 came back this year and, overall, the 4-day event welcomes about 20 000 alumni family and friends each year (most people come back every fifth year). For the first 20 years, alums wear costumes and it is good fun to see the campus crawling with people dressed as Roman senators, firemen, hula dancers, astronauts and pretty much anything else you can imagine. From the 25th reunion on, apparently having reached an age where greater gravitas is warranted, we ‘graduate’ to blazers, which themselves tend to be wacky and emblazoned with tigers, ivy and other silly things. Donald Rumsfeld and his class, back for their 50th this year, wore kimonos and those conical hats you see in every photo of an Asian rice paddy.  The costumes seemed somewhat racist but at least he didn’t shoot anybody in the face. The high point of reunions is the P-rade where the alums traipse around campus accompanied by marching bands (and this year, the Mummers! ). The theme of my reunion btw was the World Cup, which I didn’t really appreciate until several half-naked Brazilian dancers jumped the queue to lead us in the march. The Old Guard usually ride in golf carts during the P-rade (the oldest alumnus to return this year was from the class of 1935, making him 100 years old by my count). The P-rade is usually accompanied by many locomotive cheers (so-called because they sound like train engines), which is when classes greet each other by shouting Hip! Hip! Rah! Rah! Rah! Tiger! Tiger! Tiger! Sis! Sis! Sis! Boom! Boom! Boom! Bah! Insert class number here, as in: Oh-Eight! Oh-Eight! Oh-Eight! Rah!!! Here are some photos:


Roommate selfie!

The P-rade, Class of '47

The P-rade, Class of ’47


Annie, a college roommate, marches in the P-rade with her dad’s class.

Random Brazilian dancer bacause, apparently, my class is all about the World Cup. I think next time we need some women on the costume committee.

Random Brazilian dancer because, apparently, my class is all about the World Cup. I think next time we need some women on the costume committee.


Me and some roomies in Prospect Gardens at Princeton.

Reunions — despite the silly jackets — was great fun, especially because it gave me the opportunity to catch up with many old friends and roommates, one of whom (Amelia, not pictured) inspired this tangent by turning up in Rome this week and that’s how I ended up dining at Angelina. The restaurant is in Testaccio, formerly a very traditional working class neighborhood but these days very up and coming and full of interesting restaurants and night spots. It’s just down the street from the Mattatoio (once Rome’s slaughterhouse and now home to museums, music schools, bars and all sorts) and across from the hideous new farmers’ market, which looks like an underground parking garage.

Scary street art across from the restaurant.

Scary street art across from the ugly new farmers’ market.

Formerly a warehouse where animals and animal products were bought and sold, Angelina has several dining rooms and a large terrace that features a happy hour from 7 pm on during the summer. Everything in the restaurant is painted white and there are some butcher-type implements — wooden benches, scales, price lists — hanging around to recall its past and give the place a homey feel.


The main dining room features signs and price lists from when Angelina’s was a meat warehouse.

Given its history, Angelina’s is all about the meat. You can get pretty much any animal barbecued here and they even feature the inside bits that restaurants in Testaccio love so much (Known as the ‘quint quarto’ or fifth quarter, slaughterhouse workers took these bits — which included heads, tails, hearts, lungs, glands, intestines, feet, and esophagus — home as part of their pay and the neighborhood tradition of eating them stuck after the slaughterhouse closed in 1975). The Upstairs Vegetarian was somewhat nonplussed but there are lots of vegetables (and pizza) on the menu so she managed just fine. Here’s some of the things we ate: IMG_0669

Fried vegetables and stuffed zucchini flowers for a light and tasty appetizer.

Fried vegetables and stuffed zucchini flowers were a light and tasty appetizer.


I had an amazing tagliata and some grilled Belgian endive.

I had an amazing tagliata (sliced steak) and some grilled Belgian endive (above).


Amelia had a couple of skewers of mixed meats and her husband Tom ate lamb.

Amelia had a couple of skewers of mixed meats and her husband Tom ate lamb (above).


The U.V. enjoyed some random vegetables and a hunk mozzarella.

The U.V. enjoyed some random vegetables and a hunk o’ mozzarella.

We were too full for dessert but I have partaken on a previous occasion and Angelina’s tiramisu in a jar is highly recommended. Why does everything come in a jar these days?

Tiramisu in a jar.

Tiramisu in a jar.

Here's a feature from the cute tablecloth, which probably harks back to the butcher days of yore.

Here’s a feature from the cute tablecloth, which harks back to the butcher days of yore.

Angelina, Via Galvani, 24/a – Rome. Tel:  06 5728 3840


Street food!

I have been to two Roman street food fairs in as many months and here’s the thing: Italians don’t really get it. In the US, street food, as provided by food trucks, hies back to ye olde cowboy days. Chuck Goodnight, a Texas rancher and yes, that is his real name, introduced the chuckwagon in the 1860s. He fitted out an old army surplus wagon and went on cattle drives, where he served things like beans, salted meats and coffee. ‘Chuck,’ we learn from Wikipedia, is a slang term for food and not the nickname for the wagon’s inventor. There are still some places out west that feature chuckwagon cookoffs and some rodeos have chuck wagon races and blah blah who cares.

This is described as a "humourous western painting" by beloved cowboy artist Charles Marion Russell. I don't really see the humour in a bronco stomping on my eggs and bacon although a cowboy called Marion? Hilarious. That's a chuckwagon in the background.

This is described as a “humourous western painting” by beloved cowboy artist Charles Marion Russell. I don’t really see the humour in a bronco stomping on my breakfast, although a cowboy called Marion? Hilarious. That was also John Wayne’s real name, no? Hmm, perhaps I should not be so quick to scoff. That’s a chuckwagon in the background.

Most big US cities — at least the ones I know well — have long had hot dog trucks (otherwise known as ‘roach coaches’) parked on major thoroughfares or near construction sites where busy office workers or labourers can pick up wieners that have been sitting in a scary witches brew for hours on end. The wieners are — of course — delicious but inevitably and almost immediately to be regretted. My meditation on hot dog carts, btw, spun me off on an Ignatius J. Reilly tangent and recalled a favorite quote from A Confederacy of Dunces: I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip. 

In the past decade or so, food trucks have become gourmet-minded. Apparently this was prompted as much by a slow economy as by the rise of hipster foodies. Fewer construction projects and the closure of high-end restaurants meant unemployed food trucks and out of work chefs. Two plus two equals fancy food to go. The new generation of food trucks features everything from gourmet burgers to Japanese noodles to cupcakes to lobster rolls. Lil Dan’s Food Truck in my hometown of Philly has this on its menu: an Oreo-crusted Chicken Sandwich, which is breaded with vanilla Oreo crumbs, then topped with lettuce, tomato and a spicy sauce. So yay, no need to dress up and sit at a table and be ignored by grumpy wanna be something else waiters in order to eat pretentious silly food. Remember the sitting at a table concept because I think one of the points of street food is that you don’t need to do that, a point we will come back to anon. Street trucks are Zagat-rated and trackable through Twitter and Facebook. More and more, they are growing controversial as restaurants complain about stolen business and local officials worry about health code violations.

Okay, as noted I have been to a couple of street food fairs in Rome of late. Neither of them took place on the street. The first — which I wrote about here — was held at Eataly, the city’s foremost food court. The second, known as ‘This is Food’, took place at the Officine Farneto, a sort of events location near the Stadio dei Marmi (formerly the Foro Mussolini, the stadium was used to train Il Duce’s Blackshirts and later was the scene for hockey matches in the 1960 Olympics. More on this interesting story another time). Essentially, both events gave space to local restaurants to show off some of their signature dishes, few of which could be considered street food, unless you consider a bowl of delicate gazpacho or rice salad to be boulevard-friendly. Fortunately, in both cases we were provided with some nice seating.

And by the way, it has been illegal to eat  food on the streets of Rome — at least in areas that have a particular historic or architectural value, i.e. everywhere — for nearly two years. Fines can run up to Euros 500, although to be honest the law seems to have been pretty much forgotten as soon as it hit the books. Here’s what the Upstairs Vegetarian had to say about it at the time; this story features one of my favourite NYT quotes ever: “Stefano, look! There’s another eater.”

All this by way of saying that while the Romans have dutifully adopted the upscale street food craze, they neither sell upscale food on the street nor are they even allowed by law to eat there (In fairness, you can find a plethora of trucks along the river selling food items akin to Ignatius J’s Paradise hot dog carts of yore). I am sure that there are other Roman examples of this sort of magical thinking but in the meantime, here are some photos from the ‘This is Food’ event.

Fried meatball in green sauce.

Fried meatball in green sauce. Morgan got most of this.

Street-friendly gazpacho.

Street-friendly gazpacho? I think not.

Bagel with salmon and cream cheese. Warning to those expecting an H&H experience in Rome: Italian bagels tend to take the form of round bread with a hole in it, maybe some sesame seeds.

The U.V. displays her bagel with salmon and cream cheese. Warning to those expecting an H&H experience in Rome: Italian bagels tend to take the form of round bread with a hole in it, maybe some sesame seeds.

Hamburger with caramelized onions and cheddar cheese.

Hamburger with caramelized onions and cheddar cheese.

Rice salad with all sorts of stuff in it for vegetarians.

Rice salad with all sorts of stuff in it for vegetarians.

Cannoli-favoured gelato with custard and candied fruit.

Cannoli-flavoured gelato with custard and candied fruit.

La Dogana Food

The Upstairs Vegetarian and I were touring about on Italy’s Labour Day, 1 May  — more on that to come — and it being well past the lunch hour, we ducked into a place we’d been hearing about from various friends: La Dogana Food. The restaurant, which opened in February, is in Ostiense, a formerly industrial area that seems to be supplanting Monti as the in place to eat (I still stand up for Monteverde though). La Dogana translates as customs house and maybe that’s what this place once was because it is ginormous — 1600 square metros — and close to the river. It’s more or less across the street from another place I wrote about recently.  The restaurant is broken down into a number of large dining areas (including two outside) and it’s light and airy so it doesn’t feel oppressively crowded when it’s massively jam-packed (as it was on 1 May).

There are a couple of big dining rooms inside.

There are a couple of big dining rooms inside.

And two outdoor terraces.

And two outdoor terraces.

I love the little Chinese porcelain stools.

I love the little Chinese porcelain stools.

The food is served a la buffet, the likes of which I have never seen, certainly not in Italy.  The buffet offers Italian, Asian and supposedly Brazilian options (I saw no feijoada) grouped by category (appetizers, pasta/noodles/rice, vegetables, desserts) on different tables.  A large area is devoted to sushi, steamed dumplings (I’m off carbs but man, did they look good) and mini hot pots. You can select a piece of meat or fish to be grilled and brought to your table. There’s a big turnover and the food is often renewed so it stays nice and fresh (although we got there close to the end of the lunch service and they were letting stuff run out. The quality of the food was very good. The sushi was excellent. Did I mention that (with the single exception mentioned below) it’s all you can eat? IMG_0389

Some of the offerings from the groaning buffet tables.

Some of the offerings from the groaning buffet tables.

These guys will grill the meat or fish of your choice.

These guys will grill the meat or fish of your choice.

The best part? The prices. Lunch from 12:00-15:00 M-F is €12.90 (€5.90 M-F if you only take one plateful — the plates are a decent size; €13.90 on Sa-Su and holidays). Happy Hour runs from 18:00-20:30 every day. €7.90 gets you an unlimited run at the cocktail buffet, which, knowing Italy, probably consists of cous-cous and green salad. Dinner runs from 19:00-22:30 and costs €18.90 (€19.90 0n weekends and holidays). Drinks in each case are separate.

The second best part is the English-language website, which showcases Google Translate at its best. Here’s what we learn about the restaurant from the site: Our restaurant is modern and international character, as it combines the culinary traditions of different nationalities, to offer to all its customers a taste of unique and exclusive…We deliver in a unique and full of new impressions located in the heart of the Ostiense neighborhood in History, Memory and Industrial Archaeology.  Sweetly, the site quotes the immortal George Bernard Shaw: There is no love sincerer than the love of food. Of course, in La Dogana’s version it reads There is love more than sincere about the food. Hee. I probably should not enjoy that as much as I do. Never mind. I enjoyed the lunch even more.

 Via del Porto Fluviale, 67b
00154 – Roma Italia
Phone: (06) 57.40.260 


The Day of Four Popes

We’ve had a truckload of holidays around here of late. First there was Easter, which unfortunately coincided this year with Hitler’s birthday and 4/20 (the unofficial holiday of the marijuana enthusiast). Then came Rome’s 2767th birthday, which coincided with Pasquetta (‘Little Easter,’ otherwise known as The Day That All Italians Race Outside to Have A Picnic, Rain or Shine). Then came the Italian Day of Liberation, which marks the ousting of the Nazis in 1945 and which coincided with World Penguin Day. But the real news last week was the Day of Four Popes.

This is what Saint Peter's looks like with a crowd in front of it (not yesterday's crowd mind you -- this was a prayer vigil for peace in Syria that Pope Francis held last year).

This is what Saint Peter’s looks like with a crowd in front of it (not yesterday’s crowd, mind you — this was a prayer vigil for peace in Syria that Pope Francis held last year).

Two of the four popes were alive — well, one alive and one alive-ish: the new guy, Francis, whom everyone agrees is a breath of fresh air pope-wise and the old guy, Benedict XVI, who quit last year and is now known as Pope Emeritus. The other two popes — John XXIII and John Paul II — were not alive as it is quite uncommon — despite the Upstairs Vegetarian’s fervent desire — to achieve sainthood in one’s lifetime. One assumes they were there in spirit. It’s also quite uncommon (as in it’s never happened) for two popes to be involved in a ceremony canonizing two other popes. So it was a pretty big deal and the pilgrims came a’running, mostly from Poland whence hailed John Paul II. An estimated 800 000 people crowded into St. Peter’s Square. The poor old U.V. — whose day job is being a famous newshound (her night job is falling asleep in front of the TV and being annoying about vegetables) — had to be at the Vatican at 4:30 to cover the story. I woke at my leisure and watched a bit of the ceremony on TV.

The double canonization was not without controversy. John Paul II was fast-tracked, a move that had popular support: people chanted santo subito (sainthood now!) during his funeral service. Some question whether the apparent recovery of two women from medical afflictions, supposedly after praying to the pope, can really be considered a miracle (it didn’t turn out too well for this guy). Others feel that John Paul II has no right to sainthood given his role in sheltering sex predator priests. Meanwhile, John XXIII only had one of the two obligatory miracles to show for himself. It seems to me like this pope-apalooza was a bit more about politics — the Catholic Church being very fractured at the moment for various reasons — than about religion. But what do I know? I’m not even catholic.

Anyway, the Morgster and I went out for a little saunter downtown yesterday afternoon (where we nearly got drowned by the weather, but that’s another story). Having camped out all night to ensure a spot in St. Peter’s Square, having endured the world’s smelliest PortaPotties, which were set up along the colonnade (to answer your question, Mom and Dad) and having sat through a very long ceremony indeed, the pilgrims skedaddled to central Rome afterwards for a little art and culture. They were everywhere and very easy to spot. Papal Pilgrims travel in packs, carry collapsible chairs and wear matching rain ponchos — and sometimes umbrella hats — like these guys below. I haven’t seen an umbrella hat since college!

The guy in green was the leader.

The head pilgrim gets to wear a different color poncho.