We did rouse ourselves to visit the church of San Pietro in Vincoli, a small basilica in Rome with an outsize reputation. This is because Michelangelo's famously esoteric Moses with Horns statue is located here on the tomb of Pope Julius II - portraying the Biblical hero with a healthy set of horns atop his maned head. Why horns? It's believed this occurred due to a simple mistranslation of the Bible. As the Oracle of Wikipedia informs us:
Moses is actually described as having "rays of the skin of his face", which Jerome in the Vulgate had translated as "horns" (See Halo). The mistake in translation is possible because the word age can mean either "radiated (light)" or "grew horns".
So either Big Dog Michelangelo succumbed to a base misunderstanding, or he was up to something considerably more shady and esoteric, if you're going to believe the History Channel specials. It is more exciting that way. The tomb of Pope Julius II proved to be one of Michelangelo's most profound disappointments - originally commissioned to produce a monolithic structure for the expired pope, the size of the product was downgraded again and again. The eventual result would be a rather modest wall tomb, giving Michelangelo little room for whipping out the powerful artistry he desired to produce. Although Michelangelo was a bit hurt about the whole affair, he is said to have found his Moses his most life like creation: upon its completion, he apparently whacked it on the knee with his hammer and shouted, "Now speak!". Well, yes, good luck with that.
Very disturbing statue of the Grim Reaper in the church.
The street outside our apartment.
For lunch, we stayed at the apartment and consumed some meaty and cheesy delights we had obtained the day before. My dad and I befriended a meat-vendor in the square of the Pantheon, whose butcher shop contained an impressive array of porky and beefy delights. We returned to pick up some salami, prosciutto, and cheese, as well as admire the other stuff he had on display. ("I live alone, it is very hot here. There are less tourists these days. I move to San Diego," he told us a few times, a far away look in his eyes. "Best weather in the world.")
An assortment of Italian porky delights.
A profusion of olives. I used to not like them. Italy cured me a while back.
Hanging hams. Note the handsome pepper-corn encrusted specimen. Ham is considered a totally valid decorative accent in Italy and Spain.
A selection of cheeses. Cheese is also a valid decorative option.
That evening, we had drinks on top of the Hotel Mozart nearby (which administered the apartment we were staying in). The porch had some excellent views of the city and the Villa Medici. Have some photos.
Not a bad place for a glass of Prosecco.
For dinner, I wanted to visit the well-loved Armando al Pantheon, located you-know-where. To my irritation, we got over there and the place was closed when it was not supposed to be. I punted and made a reservation at another place that had come suggested to me, near the Piazza Navona. We duly trundled over there, and I tried to find the place. This led me and my dad into a hunt through some truly sinous back allies behind the Piazza - and despite asking a veritable mess of locals, we never did find the place. I admitted defeat and decided to walk over to La Fiametta, a bit outside the square. I'm glad I did.
La Fiammetta
Piazza Fiammetta, 10
00186 Roma (RM), Italy
06 6875777
La Fiammetta is a no-nonsense sort of place located near the Piazza Navona, a true-blue Italian pizzeria and trattoria. The clientele is mostly Roman, and no tourist menus are provided: bring your phrase books. You'll be glad you did. La Fiammetta's earthy and classic cooking is a real taste of Rome, in a pleasant al-fresco environment.
An avowed antipasto nut, I went for the antipasto platter for my starter. This was good and classic - lots of good grilled vegetable taste with olive oil and herbs. A great benchmark for what antipasto should be.
My mom went with the penne carbonara. This was perfect and rustic - rich as hell, slightly eggy, and full of crunchy and fatty pancetta. This version was actually identical to what Enzo made for us in Bolsena, which is high praise indeed - Italian soul food.
La Fiammetta is renowned for its eggplant parmesan, and this lived up to the billing. Rich but not greasy, cheesy and tangy, reminded me of why eggplant parmesan is worth eating. May have to try making it myself, even.
As I speak no Italian and could not for the life of me figure out the menu (forgot my phrase book, oh wait, I do not have one.) Thus I mistakenly ordered a simple steak of swordfish - would have preferred something a little more Roman. However, not to malign this: it was an excellently prepared swordfish steak with a good charcoal flavor and a little hint of lemon and olive oil.
My dad was brave and ordered the Vitello Tonnato, Italy's most famous (and most curious) cold entree. Vitello Tonnato is a curious composite beast, composed of chilled veal slices and a rich sauce made of tuna, egg, anchovy, capers, and lemon, among other ingredients. The flavor is bizarre if you've never had it before, at least initially, but if you love tuna salad you'll warm up to this real quick. I found myself wanting to steal it from my dad by meal's end. Wish this showed up on menus more in the states. (I actually made a similar sort of dish to this out of Food and Wine - it involved panko-crusted seared tuna and a very similar tuna-caper-anchovy sauce, and it was pretty good. Think I may revisit that).
After dinner, we hopped on the subway for one last late-night look at Rome. The Forum and the Colosseum at night are arresting sights, and although we were sad to see they hadn't lit up the Forum for our personal pleasure, it was still a lovely stroll. I also rescued a monstrously large black beetle from oblivion and squashing (drawing a small crowd as I tried to coax the beast onto a piece of paper), so it was really a nice time all around.
you mean a dorifora?
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