24 Perfect Hours in Rome
By Hannah HammondIt’s a heatwave and I’m sitting in Bungee Space in Nolita drinking a guava cold brew from a glass with a rim coated with salted plum sugar thinking, why is New York so cool? So cool that this heatwave feels soothing. As I drink my cool coffee I’m thinking about the Matrix, and how this drink is like a perfect simulation, and about how much I love blue pill America.
It’s the Italians, though, who have the right idea when it comes to drinks. They invented the caffè corretto, a kind of correct way of drinking when it comes to coffee, which is to say, they simply add grappa. Elevated living.
I’m thinking New York is a caffé corretto. It is very correctly four shots over spherical ice with the edge taken off, and I’m so sad to leave.
To self sooth and as an ode to my loss I decide to take a trip to Rome: the place where the early connoisseurs of the correct way to do things live and from where all cities sprung. I wanted caffé corretto from the source, to take a sip of the Trevi fountain and to feel a tethering to earth via lamb offal. So without hesitation I’m on a 6am Easy Jet flight with bae, shortly landing at Fiumicino airport and about to head to the hotel.
Hotel – Villa Laetitia
We arrive at Villa Laetitia, a Baroque temple adorned with signed framed photographs of Karl Largerfeld and ceilings dressed up with spirit boys. Situated in the Prati neighbourhood of Rome, boulevarded, shady and tranquil. Rooms here are around £200 per night; breakfast includes sugar dusted Italian olive oil cake with sips of Earl Grey tea.
Coffee – Cafe Sciascia 1919
Five minutes from the Villa Laetitia, in the Prati neighborhood, we are sitting with local coffee connoisseurs at cafe Sciascia where there is not only excellent coffee but also sandwiches with the crusts removed – decadent! One shot of espresso over zabaglione ice cream chased with sweet brandy. Very correct. We’re also enjoying the little iced cigars of curled hazelnut ice cream on little plates.
Lunch – Pier Luigi
I’m curious about the fusillotti pasta with saffron, zucchini flowers and raw oyster, but the atmosphere is extremely mid. Fine dining with zero ambiance. I’m hiding from the waiters behind a giant leather menu before making the executive decision to escape. Heading for proper Roman pizza at La Montecarlo instead.
Pizza – La Montecarlo pizzeria
A good decision. Perfect, peak Roman pizza, thin and crisp with blackened rims. Vibes here are immaculate. Green flag glass cabinet with an array of various delicious-looking well-cooked vegetables presented on oval dishes. Framed pics of pseudo-celebs on the walls. All punters Italian. Immediately order the Caprese salad and the mozzarella quenches like never before. Default plate of ancient-looking Roman cicoria. She had the capricciosa and he had the amatriciana.
Gelato – Ai Settimo Gelato
Gelato next. In a shady boulevard, with single bench outside for gelato eaters only, I order three flavours in a tub: melon, cardamon fior di latte and pistacho con panna.
A local wondering how we had found this place tells us the lady churning out the gelato actually quit her job in medicine later in life and fled to Sicily to learn the trade. I’m in love with this journey of hers.
Dinner – Piatto Romano
Thanks to an excellent recommendation from my good friend Sofia, we are now at Piatto Romano for dinner. The menu here is laden with the very offal I needed and in true Testaccio style, we order fried stuffed olives and the coratella, a dish of lambs kidney, brains and heart with caremelized onions and bay. Cucina povera always has the most decadent flavours.
Underneath this: a forest green bowl of Testaccio market salad leaves, which came to the table showered in deep magenta. Lashings of sumac in an olive oil anchovy dressing – salty purslane, spirals of pea shoots, other leaves unrecognisable but one that tasted predominantly of melon.
Next, a pork chop seared in pan with white wine and sage.
Then, a mysterious sauteed green that tastes strongly of parsley.
The dessert is surprising, a Sichuan peppercorn panna cotta which sits beside a pudding called ‘biryani’, a mango and pineapple goop topped with coconut cream and candied chillies. A free offering of a green glowing digestif in a robust, giant shot glass ends the perfect meal.
The following day, hungover, we are struggling to find somewhere open. We end up at Hosteria Grappolo d’Oro for lunch.
Here, we enjoy two solid bowls of cucina Romana, and head straight to the airport. We couldn’t leave Rome without eating a carbonara.
Hannah Hammond is a London-based chef who has worked at the River Cafe and Leo’s in London, and Le Servan in Paris. Photography by Hannah Hammond. Header image: market in centre of Rome, by metis film / Pexels.