Notes from the weekend

Da Corrado, carciofi alla brace, sheep traffic

Saturday, April 22nd 

Hello from my mama’s Airbnb in Trastevere, where we had a sleepover for the final night of her visit. It’s a basement apartment in an old convent, and once served as the convent’s laundry room. The entryway of the building is grand, with a heavy, ornate door and a wide staircase. When my mom and I first entered, we laughed that it felt right for us to be in the basement of such a stately building; Downton Abbey fans will understand that we fancy ourselves part of the Anna Bates downstairs crew.

I had a morning shift yesterday, so we went to the Academy for dinner, which is always relaxed on Fridays. We were speaking with an Academy friend, Sandy, and when we turned to the subject of her favorite decade she said, “Every decade is amazing, and every decade has its sucky parts.” Having only lived for 2.5 decades, the first of which I can’t remember very well, I would argue that the same is true for a week. The sucky parts of this week include scorching two pans of artichokes that I’d spent all morning preparing, slicing my finger open with my chef’s knife, burning my forearm on a cast iron skillet, and general exhaustion and fragility. It was a week of hard work, and my body felt it.  

The good parts of the week are tenfold: working with precious ingredients like the tenderest baby spinach and sweetest strawberries, a magical trip to the Testaccio Market (more on that soon), sharing my new life with my mom and our friend Sarah, shelling a mountain of fava beans in the courtyard, and on and on. Life is, annoyingly, always good and bad.

This morning, I woke up feeling burnt out from the week, and all I wanted to do was sit, talk with my mom, and eat. We took our time getting up, and eventually made our way to the Testaccio Market for lunch. My colleague Giorgia had recommended — highly recommended — Da Corrado, a stall with natural wine, cheeses, and a handful of dishes cooked by Corrado himself. Before we made it to the stand, however, we ran into Rachel Roddy, a favorite food writer of mine, whom I introduced myself to and discovered would be at the same event the following day. (I was shaking throughout the encounter, because that’s how dorky I am about great food writing.) Then, we ran into Giorgia and her sister Flavia, which made me feel very cool and local, so thank you, Gio and Flavi. 

And finally, lunch! There were only a few stools at Da Corrado, but we managed to snag a pair, and buckled up to be taken care of for 2 long, lovely hours. I especially liked the meatballs, somehow airy and light, blanketed in ruby-red tomato sauce, and the braised tuna and potato dish, served with big shards of crispy flatbreads. Even more remarkable than the food was the warm, patient, easy service, and the feeling that Corrado and his colleague Luca really appreciated the fact that each and every guest was there with them. Go go go! 

Mama leaves tonight. Sad to see her go, but grateful for such a wonderful trip.

Sunday, April 23rd 

Hello from the kitchen, where I am sitting, sunned and sleepy, looking out at the darkening garden. I sliced a few shallots a little while ago, and left them to sizzle lazily in a glug of olive oil with a pinch of chili flakes. Hunger hasn’t hit me yet tonight, but I know it will, and I’ll be ready to face it with caramelized shallots. 

I spent the day at Azienda Agricola Biologica di Marzio Vigneti, a vineyard an hour southeast of Rome, with some of my Rome Sustainable Food Project colleagues. Sara, RSFP executive sous chef, organized the outing, which was hosted by a good friend of hers, and it lived up to her dreamy description. The event revolved around carciofi alla brace, or artichokes cooked on hot ash — a tradition in southern Italy at this time of year. In this case, the fire was built from grapevines trimmed from the vineyard and dried until papery and flammable. It’s peak spring, and the artichokes have reached their highest form, so it’s only natural to honor them before they disappear! We honored them in the most Roman way imaginable: with mentuccia (wild mint), garlic, and a long, smoky roast until the hearts became velvety. Along with the carciofi was an array of crostini, frittate, Pecorino Romano, and olives, and each picnic table held a pile of fava beans to peel and enjoy.

To make the experience even more magical, we got to try the vineyard’s very own wine. My favorite was the rosato, which was cold, dry, and a warm-toned pale pink, like the walls of my high school bedroom. Before lunch, while the artichokes were cooking, the winemaker Riccardo toured us around the vineyard, which is quite close to the sea, with volcanic soil that yields complex wines.

On the drive home, we got stuck in traffic…of the sheep variety.

A good day.

Monday, April 24th

Back to work today. Until next weekend!

Phoebe