Best museum restaurants in Rome

The combination of Art and Food in a city like Rome is a no-brainer. The illuminated trend of coupling delectable cuisine with paintings and sculptures originated in several European cities, like Bilbao with restaurant Nerua at the Guggenheim Museum, Barcelona, Paris at the Musée d'Orsay, Avignon and St Etienne. Other world museums that have picked up on this idea include the Tate Modern in London, the Winter Palace at the Hermitage in St Petersburg, and The Modern at MoMA in New York City, to mention a few.

Here's what the Eternal City has to offer in terms of museum restaurtants:

Atelier Canova Tadolini
The studio where Antonio Canova and pupil Adamo Tadolini worked in the early 1800s is now a unique cafe and restaurant, where patrons dine surrounded by plaster replicas and marble fragments of the maestro's scuplture.
Don't miss the sea bass carpaccio with lemongrass sauce, the gnocchi with zucchini blossoms, cherry tomatoes and asparagus tips, or the grilled veal medallions with side of chickory flan.
Via del Babuino 151 (Tridente) Tel. +39 0632110702 - The restaurant is open daily noon to 11pm, cafe opens at 8am.

Bistro Cafe - Chiostro del Bramante
Come for high tea, or to dine on fresh seasonal dishes in the Hall of the Sybils from which, thanks to large glass windows overlooking the church of Santa Maria della Pace, you can admire the famous Raphael frescoes of the "Sibille e Angeli." The menu is perfect for vegetarians with its featured salads, bean soups and bruschette loaded with toppings, all enjoyed while making use of the free Wi-Fi.
Via Arco della Pace 5 (Navona) Tel. +39 0668809035 ext#26 - Open Tuesday to Sunday from 10am to 8pm.

Caffé Capitolino at Terrazza Caffarelli - Musei Capitolini
The breathatking view of Roman tiled rooftops is staggering from the top of the archeological Capitoline Museums, housed in Palazzo dei Conservatori and Palazzo Caffarelli.Visitors can take a breather from all the beauty inside the museum halls by sitting on the terrace of the Caffé Capitolino and ordering freshly squeezed juices, potent espresso or the house specialty salads, which come served in huge bowls.
Piazza Caffarelli (access from the musuem or from top of the giant Campidoglio staircase, turn right and head uphill) Tel. +39 0669190564 - Open Monday to Saturday 9am to 8pm.

Caffé delle Arti - Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Moderna
The National Gallery of Modern Art (aka GNAM) nestled in lush Villa Borghese, was built in 1883 to house the modern art of unified Italy. The cafe and restaurant "of the arts" occupies a shady wing of the museum's monumental structure, with a terrace surrounded by trees and greenery. After feeding your soul with masterpieces by Guttuso, Klimt, De Chirico, Pollock, Balla, Calder and Mondrian, fill your body with beef carpaccio, eggplant parmesan, a tasty timballo made with tortellini, and vegetarian cous cous, sprawled on one of the leafy terrace's plush sofas.
Via Gramsci 73 - Tel. +39 0632651236 - Open Tuesday to Sunday from 8:30am to 7:30pm.

Photo © Andrea Di Lorenzo

Open Colonna - Palazzo delle Esposizioni
Perched atop Rome's largest interdisciplinary exhibition area, sits an airy transparent open-space loft, which turns into a flickering urban lantern as night falls. Chef Colonna's innovative cuisine combines traditional Roman cucina povera with international and cosmopolitan flavors. Dinner is served upsatirs in the "Gourmet" level, but don't miss the value lunch options offered between Tuesday and Friday, with two buffet menus to choose from at a flat €16 per person.
Stairway entrance at Via Milano 9A (Nazionale) Wheelchair entrance on via Piacenza - Tel. +39 0647822641 - Open Tuesday to Sunday lunch from noon to 11pm.

MACRO 138 - MACRO
Museo d'Arte Contemporanea a Roma spells the contemporary art museum's acronym, whose permanent collection offers a selection of some of the most significant expressions of the Italian art scene since the 1960s. The all-organic and biodynamic restaurant housed in a spectacular glass and steel structure, offers buffet lunch and à la carte dinner, with an ever-changing menu largely dictated by seasonal and local availability.
Via Nizza 138 (Nomentano) Tel. +39 068548274 - Open Tuesday to Saturday from noon to 3pm; and 8 to 11pm. Sunday open for lunch only.

MAXXI 21 - MAXXI
The museum of 21st century art is Rome's latest addition. Anglo-Iraqui architect Zaha Hadid's vision was to design a space in which the pleasure of enjoying art (and food) is experienced at 360°. The MAXXI 21 restaurant's menu is based on the concepts of zero food miles, with use of products hailing from the immediate vicinity of Rome, particularly those in season; and zero calories thanks to a delicious menu designed to include only preparations containing less than 250 Kcal.
Via Guido Reni, 4A (Flaminio) Tel. +39 063207230 - Open Tuesday to Sunday from noon to 7pm, and Saturday from 11am to 10pm.

If it's music you're most into, and need respite from all the museum-visiting, why not make a stop at Rome's newest concert hall?

ReD - Restaurant and Design at Auditorium Parco della Musica is open from breakfast through to post-dinner drinks, with delectable meals in between. Chef Carelli's cuisine features both classic and innovative dishes, plus interesting artisan microbrewery ales and an impressive winelist. I'm often seen here for evening aperitivo, or to watch the rugby games broadcast on giant screens and mostly, for the pumpkin ravioli with home-churned butter and black truffles, the paccheri pasta with lobster tails, fresh tomato and basil, and the divine lamb shank with sweet pepper tiramisu.

Viale De Coubertin 12-16 (Flaminio) Tel. +39 0680691630 - Open daily from 9am to 2 am.

The keyhole at Knights of Malta

White and green. The two predominant colors in the Piazza dei Cavalieri di Malta. They are the hues of the carved marble and the feathery foliage of cypress, ivy and palm trees.

The walk uphill Via Porta Lavernale, leaving Testaccio's busy Via Marmorata behind, is quite a work-out. The incline is steep, but the surroundings pretty, so flexed calves and burning buttocks almost become a pleasant feeling. You'll find that the Piazza at the end of the passeggiata is empty: a Carabinieri patrol car, engine idling, perhaps a street vendor selling chilled water bottles, candy and microwaved Jurassic pizzas, and that's it. The place is deserted and peaceful.

At the far end of the square, set like a black diamond in the white facade, the huge doorway (always shut) is the mighty entrance to the headquarters of the Sovereign Order of the Knights of Malta. The one dark spot in the otherwise blinding glare of marble in the sun.

If you stop a while here, you'll see the occasional group of tourists approaching the closed doorway and taking a peek. And then they leave. Ten minutes later, a car may drive up–oftentimes a rented limo with driver–an Asian couple alights. They take a peek. And then they leave. No big deal. The Carabinieri sit motionless in their purring vehicle. Nothing strange is going on.

What everyone is peeking at is the 'Hole of Rome,' the famous keyhole through which the dome of Saint Peter can be clearly seen at the other end of a secret courtyard. The trees in the Order's garden romantically frame the perfect image.

Image copyright Gary Arndt

It may be a cliché, but the ritual of the "peek" is always a touching moment, like a sudden row of multiple stone arches, or harp music in a classical composition. There's something oddly sentimental in leaning forward, closing one eye and looking at il Cupolone, the dome–as we call it here–through one of Rome's most prohibited locations, mainly because the show through the keyhole is one hardly forgettable. This is in fact the only possible contact with what resides beyond the heavy closed doorway. The only exception is possessing an uber-authoritative decree signed by the Knights themselves, allowing the fortunate pilgrim through.

Neither the church of Santa Maria del Priorato, Giovanni Battista Piranesi's XVIII century remodeling work of art commissioned by Cardinal Rezzonico, the courtyard, nor the Order's convent are accessible to the public. What Piranesi's genius was able to rebuild, landscape and decorate cannot be seen in person. Only the Piazza and the famous doorway is for everyone to have. A consolation prize.

Sure, it would be great to continue the visit and see the church. But you can't.

One must be content with the emptiness of the ivory Piazza. Appreciating subtraction and absence; and basking in its silence. I like to come up here to peek through a keyhole, squint at the white of a marble facade, and drink up the deep greens of the cascading ivy, the cypress and the palms caressed by the sun.

Image copyright Gary Arndt

The fountains of Rome

One of the great things about Rome is its magnificent fountains, and they are everywhere. There are 280 fountains in Rome, and that's not counting the nasoni, the 2500 funny looking drinking fountains scattered across the city. Water, water, water everywhere. Rome's water system was one of the wonders of the world, and it still is. From the famous Trevi Fountain to the nasoni, water flows constantly, pure, fresh, and in most cases, drinkable.

Nasone drinking fountain

The fountain basins are clean and free of debris and the water sparkles through to the bottom. It comes from deep springs and is as cool and pure as mineral water. It still amazes me to find, all of a sudden, a nasone around a corner with continuously running water where I can put my palm to its spout and drink the spilling arched jet pushed through the small hole in the top, or at which I can fill my bottle and drink it on the go. Always cold and filtered, mineral-rich and delicious.

Whenever I stroll down the cobblestoned streets of the Eternal City and come upon its fontane, I always wonder, how have all these majestic fountains been working over time without a motor to pump the water? Looking back to my art history notes with Mr. Ceen, my favorite high school teacher, I am reminded how ancient Rome received (and still does) its water––about 38 million gallons a day––through a mighty system of aqueducts.

Fontana di Piazza del Popolo, designed by Valadier in 1816-20

All water flowed to the city by gravity, but because it was arriving from several surrounding hills, it could be stored in a network of large cisterns very similar in concept to today's water towers (the main difference is that cisterns are filled from the top). Water flowed from the cisterns either through pipes to individual homes or to public distribution points.

Fontane served both decorative and functional purposes, since people could bring their anforas (and later in history, their demijohns) to the fountain to collect water. The cisterns provided the height needed to generate water pressure for the fountains to spray the way they still do to this day. Some fountains were the actual city "end" of a certain acqueduct, like for example those of the Acqua Virgo, Acqua Marcia or Acqua Felix sources.

Pliny the Elder once wrote: "If anyone will consider the abundance of Rome's public supply of water, for baths, cisterns, ditches, houses, gardens, villas; and take into account the distance over which it travels, the arches reared, the mountains pierced, the valleys spanned - one will admit that there never was anything more marvelous in the whole world."

I can't list all 280 here, but a few I must mention, and they are:

Fontana di Santa Maria in Trastevere (4-8th century) one of the oldest in Rome


Fontana dei Libri (fountain of the books), located on via Staderari, between Piazza della Rotonda (where the Pantheon sits) and Piazza Navona on the side of the Chiesa di Sant'Eustacchio

Fontana delle Tartarughe (Tortoise Fountain)

built by Taddeo Landini and Giacomo della Porta, located in Piazza Mattei

Fontana della Barcaccia (the leaking boat)

by P. Bernini, father of GianLorenzo Bernini, located at the foot of the Spanish Steps

Fontana del Tritone (1642-43)

by Gian Lorenzo Bernini, located in Piazza Barberini

Fontana delle Naiadi (nymphs) (1900)

very controversial at the time because of the cavorting and bodacious naked nymphs. This fountain is located in Piazza della Repubblica, not far from Termini train station

Fontana degli Artisti (fountain of the artists),

Via Margutta - where all the prettiest art galleries are

Fontana di Nettuno (Neptune) (1574),

built by Giacomo della Porta and located at the northern end of Piazza Navona

Fontana dei Fiumi (fountain of the rivers) (1648-51)

by Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the centerpiece in Piazza Navona. It portrays the 4 major rivers and part of an endless dispute with Borromini who built the church facing it

Fontana di Piazza Farnese (1626)

by Girolamo Rainaldi, located in Piazza Farnese. There are 2 giant fountains in this piazza of the Palazzo Farnese - which is now the French Embassy - each donning the fleur de lys

Fountain of St. Peter's Square

stands in the breathtaking piazza facing the Basilica. It is part of a matched pair, one by Maderno (1614) and the other, on the northern side of the embracing square is by Bernini and added later

Fontana del Mosè (Moses fountain) (1587)

commemorates the opening of the Acqua Felice aqueduct. Also known Fontana dell'Acqua Felice, built during the reign of Pope Sixtus V

Fontana di Piazza delle Cinque Scole

built by Giacomo della Porta. The fountain and piazza are named after the five rabbinical schools located in the old Roman Jewish Quarter

Fontana di Trevi (Trevi Fountain) (1732-62) 

by Nicola Salvi and completed by Giuseppe Parini, commemorates the completion of the Acqua Vergine acqueduct begun in 19BC. This is the world-famous fountain where legend has it, if you toss coins over your shoulder into its waters, you are sure to return to Rome one day. It is built on the rear end of Palazzo Poli. The basin was built with the cash collected from taxes levied on wine!

Fontana del Pantheon (1575)

designed by Giacomo della Porta and located in front of the most gorgeous, still standing, entirely roofed Roman temple

Le Quattro Fontane, ([one of] the four fountains) (1593),

located at the Quirinale crossroads

Acqua Paola (more often referred to as Fontanone, or Fontana di Ponte Sisto

after the bridge near where it is located above Piazza Trilussa in Trastevere

Fontana delle Api (fountain of the bees) (1641)

by Gian Lorenzo Bernini in Via Veneto. It portrays the Borghese family emblem of the 3 bees on an open clam valve.

♥

My favorite fountain is in the Villa Borghese gardens. It is nestled in a secluded area and it has a twin on the opposite side of the park. It bubbles quietly in the shady calm of its hiding place. The fountain area is entirely surrounded by a marble wall, an oval bench that runs around the fountain. It is a pleasant place to read, relax, meditate. A flute player often comes here to practice. I used to come here to nurse MrE during his first weeks of life.

The light here is beautiful. And the sound of the rippling rivulets cascading from the gurgling top to the basin make listening a zen experience. Every Sunday I take my son there. It has become somewhat of a tradition. We explore the park, play soccer with a pinecone, crack open pine nuts with a stone, picking out its precious bounty eating them meticulously, and then we sit at the oval fountain in silence for a few minutes. Mr E hurls pebbles in the basin, while I watch him, smiling.

Explain the Ecstasy of St Theresa to a 3 year-old

"I saw in his hand a great golden spear, and at the iron tip there seemed to be a point of fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it repeatedly into my heart, penetrating all the way down to my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it."

Chapter XXIX; Part 13, Theresa's Autobiography

That's ecstasy. Here it is described with surgical precision by the saint who chronicled her own experience. The saint's name is Theresa, and the scene she describes happens every day in the church of Santa Maria della Vittoria on via XX Settembre, in Rome. It takes place in a secluded chapel owned by a noble Roman family, the last one to the left before reaching the altar.

The statues of the marble complex known as the Ecstasy of St. Theresa depict the moment described by Saint Teresa of Avila during her vivid vision of an angel piercing her heart with a golden shaft, causing her both immense joy and pain. The flowing robes and contorted posture abandon all classical restraint and repose to depict a more passionate, almost sensuous trance.

Mr E. and I walked into the chapel this morning after the last pews had been cleared following Mass. We stood there, muted by the monumental Baroque sculpture complex. The natural light coming down from a skylight above, made it all more powerful. The pain described in Theresa's bio was there displayed before us, condensed in the hardness of the snow white marble sculpted by Gianlorenzo Bernini in 1646: the solar plexus heaving, the angel's pike menacing down, the saint's face glowing with divine light. There's been copious literature written on that face. The Marquis de Sade (expert on the subject) said: "One doubts she was a saint."


There I stood, bashful and flushed, holding the sweaty, chubby hand of my astounded 3 year-old, before a stone figure having a transverberation orgasm. Bernini, a devoted church-goer, firm believer and artist of immense stature, would never have intended to depict here an episode of lust fulfilled. Instead, Bernini I'm sure, aimed to simply express the facial and body equivalents of a state of divine joy. But Theresa's face speaks volumes, nonetheless.

Next time you're ever in Rome, do take the time to visit the Conero chapel in the above mentioned Roman church, and see for yourself. Was Bernini trying to test his good fortune with a slew of wealthy benefactors by immortalizing a Saint in unsaintly attitude, or was the sensual voluptuousness of the times he lived in, take his hand too far while chiseling away?

Dreaming is gratis

bureaucracy |byoŏˈräkrəsē| noun ( pl. -cies) a system of government in which most of the important decisions are made by state officials rather than by elected representatives.
• a state or organization governed or managed according to such a system.
• the officials in such a system, considered as a group or hierarchy.
• excessively complicated administrative procedure, seen as characteristic of such a system eg: the unnecessary bureaucracy in local government.

I have not been able to post much this week. Say thank you to ruthless Italian red tape, traffic, foul weather (highly influencing my mood and functional skills), too short 24-hour days, menstrual cramps, E's tantrums, unemployment and a general money-chasing moment which has lasted too long.
There are however remedies to the above-mentioned obstacles to positive thinking. Many of them involve good food&drink, stimulating conversation, profuse usage of crayons and stickers, unexpected sunny days, reminding myself that the beach is only a 30km drive away, the company of friends and family, and dreaming.
I do that a lot lately. Dreaming (often with eyes open) and napping with E are among the best free-of-charge activities I like to engage in. They match very little else in terms of joy and satisfaction.
Right now my no.1 daydream entry is Escape. Here are a few images and thoughts associated with my latest reveries.

A lovely agriturismo in Alto Adige.

A hot air balloon ride.

A beautiful Pre-Raphaelite painting.

A gorgeous Tuscan landscape in Garfagnana.

A lazy midday ride on board the S. Giovanni.

Venice, period.

African skies.

Positano at sunset.

Lions.

Hidden Mediterranean coves.

Sangiovese grapes.

Books.

E's art.

Local&organic oranges (self harvested).

Among the duties of a parent

My son walked up to me today and out of the blue stunned me with "what’s a Picasso?"
It took me a while to figure out how a 3-yr old could know anything about modern art, let alone the name Picasso. But I eventually put two and two together. He's a huge fan of the '95 animated film Toy Story. In one of the opening scenes, one of the characters (Mr. Potato) undoes his face, jumbles all his features and says "Hey look, I'm a Picasso!" to which the interlocutor Piggy Bank after a blank stare replies, "I didn't get it."
Apparently neither did my son E, hence the candid question.

So we opened my laptop and started browsing images of the Andalusian genius' work. We were both surprised to learn that his first oil painting "The Picador" – word, which we repeated over and over for several minutes, rolling our Rs with very macho Latin flair – the boy Pablo painted at age 8.

We also discovered that during the Nazi occupation of Paris, Picasso had the French Resistance smuggle him bronze to cast secretly from the regime that didn’t find his artistic style fit for their taste. Through another interesting bit of Picasso trivia, we found out that in his Montparnasse posse – which included folks like Gertrude Stein, Jean Cocteau, Erik Satie, Marc Chagall and Marcel Duchamp, to mention just a few – poet Guillaume Apollinaire was arrested on suspicion of stealing the Mona Lisa from the Louvre in 1911. During interrogation, Apollinaire sheepishly pointed to his “friend” Picasso, who was therefore also brought in for questioning, but both were immediately released. I can just picture what happened in the usual Montparnasse bistro hang out later that night.

I tried to explain Mr. Potato’s joke by showing E paintings of cubist ladies, and their rearranged profile/facial features. We browsed many cubist works of art, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, the various portraits of Dora Maar, Le Rêve, Femme Assise au Chapeau à Plume, and the painter's self portrait.

When we arrived at Picasso's black, white and grey depiction of the German bombing of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War, I leafed past it and mumbled something about war being horrible, but E held down my hand on the mouse pad and said, "I want to see the war, show me" so I went back and enlarged the desperate, angular and touching painting to full screen. E became silent and we both took in how solemn and serious the moment was.

My little boy pointed at the horse, the bull and the screaming upward human face of a woman grieving over the dead child in her arms. I tried to explain about Spain, about young people fighting, panicked horses, torture, buildings wrenched by violence and chaos. As we looked into the grand mural, with words fit for a toddler, I tried to gently convey the helplessness and tragedies of war and the suffering it inflicts on people, especially innocent civilians.

After a long moment of quiet contemplation, which to a child is normally intolerably infinite, E looked into my eyes and said, "Ho capito adesso, mamma," –– I understand now, mommy.

He got it. He got Picasso.