Parma - a Few Final Words Involving (What Else?) Food

Well actually three words - I Tre Porcellini. That translates as the Three Little Pigs and it was an osteria I stumbled on coming back from the band concert on Sunday. I wasn't all that hungry and it was only 1230 a little early for lunch, so I thought I would walk, build up an appetite and come back around 1300. Then, of course, I couldn't quite remember where it was. I wandered around and had almost given up when I turned a corner and there it was.

I love watching people in restaurants and the place was filled with highly watchable Sunday diners. There was a family beside me - Mother, Father, two brothers and the little boy of one of the brothers - so where was the mother of the boy? Was she working that day? Maybe Mama doesn't like her so she wasn't invited? Or they're divorced and it was Dad's turn with the kid? Whatever it was the kid was more than pleased with the second helping of lemon gelato he was allowed courtesy of one of the owners. In the next room there was a large noisy group: 8 women (elderly, middle-aged, teen-aged) with one man - very much Pater Familias chunky gold pinkie ring and all - and a chihuahua that occasionally added to the conversation. In another corner sat a young couple who, I suspect, had spent their first night together - that morning-after glow, strangely more on him than her and all little touches and caresses, knowing looks and giggles - so damned cute. An elderly gentleman, very nattily dressed in jacket and tie, shuffled past with his Filippina caregiver, seen to the door by one of the owners. It was a colorful cross section of people - many it would seem regulars others like me simply passing through - enjoying a good Sunday lunch.

And it was a good Sunday lunch:

Polenta Grantinée with Brie and Porcini mushrooms
Roast Fresh Parma Ham with
oven roasted rosemary potatoes
A pleasant half litre of the house white wine
Honey torte with brandy sauce and vanilla gelato
The house Amaro
An espresso to finish the meal off.

It was the perfect meal for a chilly Sunday, the price was reasonable, the setting comfortable and the service friendly. And unlike the evening before I wasn't made to feel uneasy about being a single dinner. Damn another reason to go back to Parma.

10 novembre - San Leone Magno

Le Limoncini

Friday night has become our regular night out for dinner. Not that we are unusual in that – dining out to celebrate the end of the work week is the normal way most everyone in Rome starts the weekend. There are a few favorite restoranti/trattori from previous trips that we planned to revisit. But last Friday (San Giocinto), with the Ferragosto closings, we choose a local restoranti that advertised that they were open during the whole month of August.

Le Limoncini is just a block away from the apartment, has pleasant sidewalk tables shielded from the street by lattice work and hedges, an interesting menu, and, for Rome, reasonable prices. The owner – large with an equally large moustache – mans the kitchen and his son – affable and as cute as a button – looks after the service. The waiters are professionals not never-been singers/actors/models/dancers between jobs and take their craft seriously.

We wandered over around 1945 – a bit early for the normal Roman to dine so we had a choice of tables. The obligatory bread and olives were set on the table – don’t think for a minute they’re a gift from the management, they show up on the bill at the end of the evening as a “cover.” We ordered a bottle of mineral water and began the serious business of deciphering the menu (Italian only in our neighbourhood.) We managed to put together a decent enough meal and ordered a really good Sardinian white to go with it.

Laurent:
Antipasto: Salmon in lemon and olive oil
Primi: Scampi Risotto
Secondi: Lemon Scaloppini
Dolce: Lemon Sorbet
Willym:
Antipasto: Fried Zucchini flowers stuffed with mozzarella and anchovy
Primi: Gnocchi in gorgonzola and radicchio sauce
Secondi: Veal Milanese smothered in tomato and rocket lettuce
Dolce: Panna Cotta with strawberries

Espresso and amaro

The gnocchi were amongst the lightest I’ve ever tasted and Laurent wants me to try the Risotto the next time.* I hadn’t eaten stuffed zucchini flower since we lived in Mexico in 1987 and they were as delicious as I remember. All in all a fine meal – though next time I think I’ll do either a Primi or a Secondi not both.

The food was good but as the evening progressed people-watching became half the fun. The restaurant filled up with couples – young and old, male-female and male-male, – family groups, a single male diner and several ladies out with friends – including at least one sister with her Sister from the Ursuline Convent down the street. At one point a black sedan pulled up and out stepped a sinister-looking, tattooed, all-in-black Guido with a shaved head and a full-figured female companion on either well-muscled arm. They strode into the restaurant and reappeared several minutes later having done nothing more nefarious than pick up their take-out pizzas. Around 2200 a young couple strolled up with a baby in one of those carriages that puts a Smart Car to shame. They were greeted with great joy by a table of friends and family. The bambina was passed from person to person, smothered in kisses and hugs, proudly held by a gentleman we took to be grandpa, squealed her approval at being the centre of attention then promptly fell asleep as the adults went about the serious business of ordering food. When we left at 2300 the place was still full and a young couple slid quickly into our vacated table.

*We went back with some friends who are visiting from the UK on Sunday night and were greeted like regulars. A few very tasty antipasti were suggested, Elizabeth, the 6 year old, was treated as the equal to any of the other diners and Laurent was right, the Risotto was wonderful. I have a feeling its going to become a bit of a Friday night haunt.

18 agosto – Sant’Elena