What stands clearest in my mind from my visit to Italy were three distinct meals. These meals had nothing in common, except that I had little or no choice in any of them.
The most satisfying of the lot had to have been in Rome at Trattoria der Pallaro. There is no menu here, you sit and are served a carafe of the house wine and whatever Mama Paola is cooking up. Everything we ate from the 10 [!!!] plates of food was simple, fresh, and hearty.
One of the dishes I’ll never forget was a perfectly cooked pasta topped with two different sauces. The bits of mystery scattered through turned out to be crunchy fatty nuggets of pure porky bliss. I’ve had some splendid bacon in my day but these wee nubs were taste and textural perfection.
A few times that evening Mama would appear tableside to make sure everyone was enjoying the food. The regulars got extra love.
My only regret from this trip is that we didn’t go back. Maybe a return visit would have gotten us a hug, too.
(pictures not mine, they were taken by my Italian companion Mr. T)
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