When in Rome…

After several months of enduring semi-isolation save for the diversions provided by a handful of country house gardens, we were itching to go abroad. Rome was the first thought for predictable reasons – the way you can turn a corner and suddenly be confronted with the ruined site where Caesar was assassinated, or the soaring arches of the Diocletian baths opposite the Termini Railways station. This is what gives Rome the edge – the way evocative fragments of a vanished empire are surrounded by a functioning world capital.

Despite the earlier havoc created by the spread of Coronavirus in Italy, firm measures appeared to have worked, although Rome was never the epicentre. In recent weeks, new cases here vary between zero and single numbers.

One of the greatest tourist destinations in the modern world has been reclaimed by the Romans, with foreigners a rare sight even in cosmopolitan destinations such as the Vatican and Capitoline museums. Normally the Vatican Museums deal with upwards of 25,000 visitors daily but at present the figures are restricted to 10% of this, which means treasures usually obscured by jostling spectators can be viewed sometimes with no one else in the room. From a balcony overlooking the Forum, it appeared to be virtually deserted. On the streets, there are a few brave souls from Germany, Austria and Britain but no Americans, Russians, Chinese or Saudis. This gives one a privileged feeling of being enveloped in another culture, enhanced by clusters of local youth just chattering and laughing in the narrow streets surrounding the Pantheon and Campo di Fiori.

Not many of the well-established hotels have re-opened yet but those that have, including the Hotel de Russie on Piazza del Popolo are now populated by groups of Romans in the public areas, all wearing face masks until they are seated. The management took advantage of the earlier lock down to completely restore the rear “secret garden” on the Pincian Hill, which was designed by Guiseppe Valadier.

Behind the scenes, such places are hurting as occupancy rates are around 15%, given that nearly half of all Summer bookings were Americans. The heavily occupied open-air restaurant and gardens, though, do evoke a sense of normalcy.

Very few of the multi-Michelin-starred restaurants are currently open, but they were never the point of dining out in Rome. Instead, there are a plethora of casual local establishments serving versions of cucina povera, usually with wine lists you can only dream of elsewhere.

This was the reason for a return to La Matricianella, a family-owned place on a side street equidistant between Augustus’s tomb and the Italian Parliament. Popular with politicians and other power brokers, it possesses one of the greatest value wine lists in Rome, crammed with superb Amarones, Barolos and Barbarescos below current wholesale prices. Given how crammed the outside terrace is, there were Perspex “Sneeze Screens” shielding surrounding diners but these were soon mentally dismissed. Perhaps the head chef was on furlough because apart from a satisfying tagliatelle funghi porcini, the remaining dishes of veal, roast potatoes and spinach were verging on overcooked and parched. Remarkably, I wouldn’t hesitate to return, thanks to my forgiving nature and the spectacular Produttori del Barbaresco Asili 2014 for less than £40.

The next day was occupied by visiting the Vatican Museums. The 25-minute walk from Piazza del Popolo was broken by a visit to Franchi’s, a simple deli with tables that has been on the Via Cola di Rienzo for more than a century, serving pasta dishes, whole quail and delicious cold peppers, spinach and artichokes. On the return journey, further along the same street and opposite the Piazza della Libertad is Gelateria La Romana, which serves some of the best puddings and ice creams in Rome.

Supper was at Da Armando Al Pantheon, a tiny restaurant on a side street adjoining the Pantheon, which had been recommended by Katie Parla, one of Rome’s leading food writers. This serves the essence of Roman Cuisine – gutsy, offal-based dishes such as Panino con Coratella d’abbacchio (heart, liver, lungs of lamb on a bed of spinach) along with a fragrant Spaghetti alla Gricia – cured pork jowl, pecorino and black pepper. However, the dish of the day was Faraona ai funghi porcini (luscious Guinea fowl with porcini, pine nuts and Sicilian spices). Again, the prices were ridiculously cheap, though perhaps that explained why my roast lamb chops also contained dangerously hidden shards of bone that could easily take out a tooth with an incautious crunch.

The next day was devoted to exploring a segment of the Via Appia, the original cobbled superhighway from Rome to Brindisi. We grabbed a bottle of mineral water and a porchetta panini from Norcineria Viola, which has been serving all porcine products in the Campo de’ Fiori since 1890. Only five miles out of Rome and suddenly you are on a two-thousand-year-old dead-straight road interspersed with catacombs, ruined churches, roman tombs and the floorplans of former villas. We began in front of a huge circular mausoleum, originally occupied by Cecilia Matella, the daughter-in-law of Marcus Licinius Crassus, the richest man in Caesar’s Rome. Opposite is San Nicola, a ruined fourteenth century Gothic church.

The Via Appia is virtually traffic-free as any car attempting to drive along the rutted road tips and up down like a boat in a storm. There are also some contemporary villas, one of which was occupied by Sophia Loren, but they are out of sight behind locked gates.

Our cultural pursuit the next day was the Capitoline Museum, the world’s first public collection of sculpture, with the staircase entrance dominated by the gigantic third century figures of Castor and Pollux. At the current time, you can linger as long as you please to see the highlights such as the colossal head of Constantine or the original she-wolf of Rome, said to be of Etruscan origin, though some recent research suggests it was created in the Middle Ages. From a terrace, you get an uninterrupted view of the Forum, again, virtually deserted. Just in front of the Curia, there is a small clump of greenery – an olive tree, a vine and a fig tree. Our friend Ivan Ruggeri pointed out that in the Old Testament, they are sacred in Ancient Israel but in this case, they relate to early Roman myths, though they were replanted in the Twentieth Century.

London friends had spent a week in Rome ahead of us and insisted we try Taverna Trilussa in Trastevere, the Roman equivalent of Shoreditch. This was heavily endorsed by Alessandra, the impressively forceful and bossy concierge at the de Russie. I named our preferred time, which she said would be fine, despite it being one of the most patronised restaurants in Rome, even during these restricted times. When I asked her how could she be so certain it would be available then, she smiled: “Do you think they would ever dare not find space for my customers?”

Taverna Trilussa is the Roman version of London’s River Café – a smart, popular place with special care to provide the best ingredients regardless of cost. This was definitely the most accomplished meal we had – bucatini all’ amatriciana served in its cooking pan and stinco di agnello da latte con patate arrosto (milk-fed lamb shank with roast potatoes). The service was also equal to that of the River Café, with everybody eating outside surrounded by greenery and large umbrellas. If any city appears normal during these stressful times, it is Rome because everybody eats outside in the Summer months anyway. It was only when I spoke to the Trilussa manager that a more challenging picture emerged. “We normally serve 350 covers nightly but now, we never have more than 140,” he explained. Not only that, the wine list is full of Italy’s finest wines – Barolos from Conterno, Giacosa and Gaja and Super Tuscans from Ornellaia and Sassicaia, all for hundreds of pounds a bottle, but no one is ordering them as these are invariably purchased by wealthy tourists. The manager explained that usually, more than half of their customers are foreigners but at present, they are lucky to have even a handful.

On our final day, we managed to get highly prized tickets to the blockbuster Raphael Exhibition at the Quirinale – to be honest, this was another bit of sleight of hand from Concierge Alessandra. Happy we went to it but because of lockdown, only groups of ten were allowed into each room at a time with whistles blown to move you on, which somehow took away the magic.

Taking advantage of this paucity of tourists, we dined on our final night at Da Fortunato al Pantheon. The food was straightforward save for a luscious mezzemaniche all’amatriciana con pecorino romano e guanciale di Amatrice and a well-executed risotto ai funghi porcini with a reassuring number of coin-sized slivers of black truffle. However, in this case, what made the experience memorable was the view from the outside tables – a large chunk of the Pantheon looming at the end of the street.

There is nothing gloomy about the atmosphere in Rome at night – everything appears to be functioning normally especially as every square and side street has voluble people seated outside enjoying themselves. Until mainstream tourists consider it safe to return though, Rome will be in the same uncertain boat as the rest of us, though I know where I would rather be until things finally change for the better.