5 favorite pastry shops in Rome

I don't consider myself a 'sweets' person. If I have to choose between mortadella stuffed in pizza bianca and a slice of cake, I go straight for the pork sandwich without hesitation.

Yet, despite how well I've eaten – and how full I am – I will always consider having dessert at the end of a meal, especially if the company joyful and the savory portions on point.

Rome can count on a wide choice of artisanal pastry shops that consistently provide locals with morsels of sweetness.

Here is my shortlist of 5 favorite pastry shops in Rome: Continue Reading ➔

The best cornetti in Rome

A lot has changed in terms of choice and quality since I last wrote about where to find the best cornetti in Rome, so I think it's time to update and revise that obsolete list to include some new key listings.

Every time I go on a diet (this happens quite frequently) the one food I miss the most in my weight-loss regime is the highly fatty cornetti.

Cornetti is the Italian word (but not equivalent) of croissants. They are crescent shaped, flaky, chock full of butter and sugar, and are Italy's favorite breakfast food, best enjoyed dunked in cappuccino. Yes, dunked! Ignore the judging stares of those next to you at the cafe counter.

Another popular way of enjoying cornetti is at night, after hours, consumed as a powerful sugar-boost. In my 2009 post on "cornetti" I mentioned a few helpful tricks on how to find the goods at night. This is in fact a particularly Roman thing, venturing out for a bagful of cornetti after dinner, or to recoup post steamy night dancing, or simply because we are gluttons.

Unlike croissants, which are exquisitely French, cornetti is a term that widely includes a plethora of typical Italian pastry staples, baked in a variety of shapes, sizes and containing many different fillings. Fried donuts, Danish rolls, brioches, whole wheat with honey, marmalade, or custard-filled, maritozzi slathered with whipped cream – these all belong to the baked realm of cornetti.

Every corner cafe serves cornetti in the morning. Whether delivered fresh, dusted with powdered sugar, or glazed from the wholesale baker in wide shallow boxes, or microwaved in back; bad cornetti pumped with processed crap and margarine are sold virtually everywhere. The good places, that actually bake their own artisan products were – until quite recently – a rare exception. Fortunately for me (and my nutritionist's bank account) there is an ever growing number of new places where some very good cornetti can be scored.

Here is my revised list of favorite cornetti dealers in Rome.

Coromandel - Via Monte Giordano, 60 - Tel. 06 68802461 - Open Tues–Sun 8.30am - 11.30pm
Ornella is unbeatable. This elegant bistro's baker daily produces croissants, cakes, pan brioche (which she the slices for the breakfast's French Toast) and other bakery goods. The friendly girls in aprons pouring the caffè, classy Parisian-style ambiance, terrific specials and smiling host Katia do the rest. A definite must.

Panificio Bonci - Via Trionfale 36 - Tel. 06 39734457 - Open Mon-Sat 7am to 10 pm; Sun 8am-3pm
He's done it again. Gabriele Bonci, the guru of yeast base starters and mastermind behind Pizzarium (Rome's number one quality pizza al taglio) has put together stone milled flours, French butter and alot of love, and given us cornetto fetishists the 80-gram (3 oz) cornetto of our dreams.

Bar Benaco - Via Benaco 13 - Tel. 06 8548636
I don't know what it is that makes the teensy (and expensive) cornetti baked here so special. All I know is one is never enough, despite their steep price. Flaky, buttery, not too sweet... these all-Italian cornetti are some of my all time favorites. The rest of the offer – coffee beverages – is less impressive.

Panella - Via Merulana 54 - Tel. 06 4872651 - Open Mon-Fri 8am-midnight; Sun 8.30am-4pm
Best known for its bread products, and probably the best pizza with zucchini flowers on the planet, Panella also bakes one mean cornetto. Technically perfect, the cornetti however cannot counter the staff's downright rude demeanor. The best option is getting a bag to go, and enjoying them at home with a freshly brewed cuppa.

Pasticceria Regoli - Via dello Statuto 60 - Tel. 06 4872812
This traditional bakery has been baking all sorts of pastry delights since 1916, and the house special is not properly a cornetto, rather the all-Roman maritozzo, a fragrant oblong brioche slit open and smeared full of freshly whipped cream. It doesnìt get much more Roman than that.

Cristalli di Zucchero - Via di San Teodoro 88 - Tel. 06 69920945 - Open Mon-Sun 12.30pm-3pm
This is a routine stop before (and sometimes after, too) hitting the Mercato di Campagna Amica near the Circus Maximus. Nice cornetti baked to perfection with natural starters and no chemicals or additives, as well as other sinful bakery goods. And for those who appreciate, even macarons.

Angolo Russo - Corso Sempione 13 - Tel. 06 86800686
This bakery is open all day and sells a ridiculous variety of sweets, pastries and baked goods. There's a deal if you purchase cornetti between 2 and 8 pm: 10 pieces go for a mere €4.

Pasticceria Romoli - Viale Eritrea 140 - Tel. 06 86324845 - Open Tues-Sun 6am until late
This bar-pasticceria (cafe and bakery) proverbially provides the northern suburbs with very good cornetti and similar baked goods, with a variety of fillings which may include classics like pastry cream, chocolate and jam; or the more exotic coconut cream, pistachio spread or fresh berries, apple and cinnamon, and other seasonal fruit fillings.

Palombini - Piazzale Adenauer 12 - Tel. 06 5911700 - Open daily 7am to midnight
I hardly make it to EUR – one of Rome's most modern and unique Fascist architecture neighborhoods – but when I do, Palombini is always a must: they roast their own coffee beans for espresso, and bake some of the best "cornetti alla crema" I have ever tasted.

Il Cornettone - Via Oderisi da Gubbio 215/219 - Tel. 06 5587922 - Open Thurs-Tues 7am-10pm
This is a crowded, noisy cornetto dealer. Cleanliness is not a priority, and the dangerous-looking people smoking out front make you think twice before venturing inside. The only one reason I've included this place in my list is the giant cornetto. A whole 80 centimeters (roughly 32 inches) of custom-filled flakyness.

Cornetteria Cinque 5 Stelle - Via di Tor Vergata 424 - Tel. 06 72633035
This bakery is open 24/7 and churns out 50,000 cornetti a day, plus the usual krapfen, classic pastries, cakes, mini pizzas and other savory treats for those of the less sweet persuasion.

Zozzone a Centocelle - Via dei Ginepri 16 - no phone
As one of the inner city's most popular late night hangouts, this bakery is always crowded, and impossible to park by. Blame their evening production of cornetti and brioches filled with Nutella and whipped cream. Stop drooling and read on.

Caffe Giuliani - Via Volturno 58/60 - Tel. 06 4455443
I learned of the artisan croissants, cornetti and other flaky goods baked fresh daily in this place when I was still working in the film business. We were shooting a very long and difficult scene for the movie The American (the scene never made it in the movie, ending up on the cutting room floor) and in between set-ups I perked up with numerous cornetti and espressos.

Addendums and suggestions. The first is by friend Katie Parla:
Pasticceria De Bellis - Piazza del Paradiso 56/57 - Tel. 06 68805072
I visited the bakery for the first time yesterday, and I confirm Katie's vote: in addition to the awesome deserts and pastries, the cornetti are truly stellar as well.

On the same day, I stopped by Antico Forno Roscioli, on Via dei Chiavari 34, and – besided tucking into some of their artisan panettone – I also sunk my teeth in one of their cornetti. Did not regret it at all.

My latest obsession is Le Levain in Trastevere, just off Piazza San Cosimato. All-French boulangerie bakes baguettes and all manner of cakes and desserts. But the croissants and pain-au-chocolat are what draw me the most. As if I needed another reason for wanting to live in Trastevere...

Opening photo ©instagram.com/boncipane

Popular Italian Desserts

Many Italian desserts sound delicious, but few know all of them by name. So, here's a handy guide to some of the more common Italian meal-ending treats, with a few tips on where to find them at their best in Rome.
Continue Reading ➔

World Nutella Day 2013!

If I had to choose between a piece of warm focaccia stuffed with homestyle salami, and a slice of cake, I'd probably go for the pork. That is if Nutella isn't part of the equation, because otherwise I'd seriously have a hard time deciding.

Today I'll be keeping my savory preferences to myself, and instead be a part of the celebrations in honor of the world-known hazelnut-chocolate spread because it's World Nutella Day.

Yes! A holiday that consecrates Nutella, founded six years ago by the genius minds of Sara from Ms. Adventures in Italy and Michelle from Bleeding Espresso. There's even an Unofficial Guide to Nutella, and you can get your copy or gift one on Amazon. What better occasion than today?

So, how do I celebrate World Nutella Day? Hosts Michelle and Sara suggest getting creative and eating lots of it, but also making recipes using Nutella, eating Nutella with a big spoon. Waxing poetic about Nutella. Even offering Nutella as a sacrifice.

Personally, I'll be baking. And for me this is a huge effort. I'm more of an improviser, so following precise instructions, being careful with measurements – which baking requires – is a not my thing. But on Feb 5th – World Nutella Day – I go by the book.

Remember the Nutella Pseudo Mousse recipe I submitted for my first ever World Nutella Day? Well think cupcakes frosted with THAT. My blood sugar spiked just thinking about it.

Ingredients for the easy-peasy cupcakes
1 cup Nutella
2 eggs
150gr (about 10 tbsp) all-purpose flour

Ingredients for the frosting
250gr (1 1/4 cups) whipping cream
2 tsp confectioner's sugar, sifted
3 tbsp Nutella

Preheat oven to 350°F

Whisk all the cupcake ingredients together until fluffy and completely blended.
Divvy up the blend evenly into muffin tins.
Pop in the oven for about 20-25 minutes.

In the meantime prepare the frosting.
Whip the cream with the confectioner's sugar until quite firm.
Add the Nutella to the whipped cream, blending it softly with a wooden spoon in round, repetitive, loving motions. Refrigerate for 10 minutes.

Cool cupcakes on an elevated rack, once completely cool, slather with the refrigerated Nutella mousse frosting. Decorate with sprinkles or chocolate chips.

Makes 8 cupcakes. You pour the milk while I set the table.

How do you indulge your Nutella?

Where to eat: the updated list

Many of you like to stop by here at Aglio, Olio e Peperoncino for recipes, or to hear the latest news on the sweet (and sometimes bittersweet) life in Italy. Some like to keep up with my freelance writing, and therefore are familiar with my column "In Cucina" I pen for The American Magazine in Italia, or my lifestyle correspondent-work for The Travel Belles, or the pieces I've done for other online press. In most of these, I like to share lists. I love lists, I'm a list maniac, I think I suffer from an acute form of list-fetish.

Over the years I have also shared lists of favorite restaurants and places to eat in Rome on this blog as well. And I've collected all these lists, divided by topic on a where to eat page. It has its own tab at the top of this blog, under the masthead.

If you trust my opinion, or are simply looking for a personal list of tried and tested, say– vegetarian restaurants, or gluten-free kitchens, or simply an inspirational index of favorite pastry shops, pizza joints, gelaterias, cafes and such, you can head over to the mother of all lists, and click on the various listed links to be redirected to the specific article.

If you have any suggestions for future lists you'd like to see here, please leave them in the comment box below, and I will take all requests into serious consideration. You know me and lists.

Italian bigné recipe

When I say the word, I can actually smell the sugary aroma of the three squared beignets in my plate at Café Du Monde. I don't think I have ever tasted anything quite like it.

Italian bigné are different. Some are fried, as in the case of the Zeppole di San Giuseppe fritters, but normally bigné are light choux pastry puffed balls that are baked in the oven. These cream puffs are also the base for Profiterole, filled with whipped cream or gelato, and drizzled with lavish amounts of melted dark chocolate.

Bigné were introduced in France by Caterina de' Medici, wife of Henry II of France, who brought with her from Tuscany lots of recipes, including choux pastry. Leave it to history that the name traveled from Florence all the way to French New Orleans...

I fill my bigné by slicing off the top, filling with a spoon, and then reassembling. It can obviously be done by injecting with a pastry bag and a narrow piping tip, but that always turns out a mess for me.

Today I'm sharing the recipe for a savory hors d'oeuvre version, loaded with a creamy 3-cheese filling, that yields about 24 assembled bigné

Ingredients for the choux pastry:
250 ml (1 cup) water
150 g (1 1/4 cups) all-purpose flour
75 g (1/3+ cup) butter
4 eggs

Ingredients for the filling:
100 g (3/4 cup) flour, sifted
100 g (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
500 ml (2 cups) whole milk, boiling
100 g (1/2 cup) Fontina cheese, diced
100 g (1/2 cup) Pecorino Romano, grated
200 g (1 cup) Parmigiano, grated


Start by making your bèchamel, which is the base of the filling.

Melt the butter in a stainless steel pan over low heat. Gradually sprinkle in the flour, and stir well with a wooden spoon until smooth. Cook gently until the mixture becomes a light golden color. Add the boiling hot milk gradually, stirring constantly to avoid lumps. Cook for another 15 minutes (at least) while stirring constantly.

When the bèchamel becomes rich and creamy in consistency – not too thick and not to runny, rather forming ribbons on the surface as it dribbles off the wooden spoon – remove from the heat, and dilute with a little more milk. Don't pour it in all at once, rather use it to blend the cheeses as you add them, and they melt and bubble.

Fold in the pecorino and parmigiano first, leaving the fontina last.

When all the cheeses are blended and well incorporated, let the mixture stand to cool while you make the choux pastry.

Pour yourself a drink, by now you've totally earned it.

Preheat oven at 180° C (350° F).

Heat the water with a pinch of salt. When it begins to tremble, right before reaching boiling point, add the butter and let it melt. Sift in the flour, remove the pot from the stove, and stir constantly until the dough comes away from the sides of the pan and forms a smooth ball (this will take about 5 minutes, have faith: it will happen). Let it stand to cool briefly.

Once the dough is lukewarm, start adding one egg at a time and mix with a wooden spoon until it reaches a smooth, paste-like thickness. I cheat and give it one last whir with a food mixer.

Spoon the bigné dough onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Again this can be done with a pastry bag, I use two spoons...

Bake the bigné for about 15 minutes, until golden and well-puffed, time greatly depending on oven force. The trick to perfect puffing bigné is to keep the temperature quite low and steady. Ventilated ovens are the best. Mine isn't...

Once your bigné have completely cooled down, using a sharp serrated blade, slice the bigné open as you would a bun, and slather 1 tablespoon (or more) of the creamy cheese filling in each, reassembling as you go along. Any leftover filling can be employed as dip for crudité, or spread on crostini, bruschetta, etc.

Serve at room temperature, or slightly warmed (20 seconds in the microwave) and pour the red wine with profuse abandon.

Another easy filling (which doesn't need cooking) is a blend of equal parts cream cheese and Gorgonzola. Dreamy.

Go ahead, take one more...

Budino di Riso recipe

Rice pudding––as we know it in Toscana––is one of those quintessential family type desserts – you feed it to kids for afternoon snack, or to perk them up when they're sick. They're sold in both pastry shops and bakeries, and are available all year round. The name "budino" actually means pudding, but there's no resemblance to the classic rice pudding. These are small baked rice pastries, the closest we Italians get to cupcakes!

Whenever I bite into one, the texture and flavor swing me back to my childhood. "Budino di riso" recalls Sunday morning passeggiatas in the Villa Borghese with my friends Margherita and Isabella, picking pine nuts and chasing butterflies, chaperoned by their nonna, the late Suso Cecchi d'Amico––world known screenwriter for Fellini and other cinema icons––accompanied by her gluttonous golden retriever Porto (who never missed a fountain for a dive).

Suso was a tireless nanny, great story-teller and awesome goal-keeper when it came to impromptu games of field soccer. During our playtime, we'd always stop at the Casina dell'Orologio cafe for a treat, and our order was always the same: a portion of budino di riso.

This recipe yields about 10-12 pastries, according to shape.

For the filling:
150 g (3/4 cup) of rice (I use the kind that will give off starch, like Vialone Nano)
400 g (2 cups) whole milk
100 g (1/2 cup) sugar + some confectioner's sugar for dusting
50 g (1/4 cup) unsalted butter + more for greasing the molds
A pinch of salt
2 egg yolks
A shot glass of rum, or cognac
A dash of cinnamon
1 vanilla pod, slit open and scraped (or 1/2 tsp vanilla extract)
The zest of 1 orange and of 1/2 lemon

For the pastry crust:
200 g (1 cup) "00" flour + more for dredging
150 g (3/4 cup) unsalted butter, chilled
A pinch of salt
1 egg yolk


Preheat oven at 180°C (350°F).

Use whatever muffin pans or ramekins you have at home, but ideally you'd need oval molds to make these typical Tuscan rice puddings.

Prepare the pastry first.

Quickly work the ingredients for the shortcrust with your fingertips (run them under cold water first) away from the oven or hot stove: remember, shortcrust pastry dough is tricky.

In a large mixing bowl, stir together the flour and a pinch of salt, and using two knives, cut the butter into the flour. Roll up your sleeves, remove any rings and bracelets, and get in there pinching and breaking up the butter chunks further with your fingertips until the texture resembles coarse oatmeal, and the butter pieces are no larger than peas.

Drop in the yolk, and knead just until the dough pulls together. You want to obtain a silky texture, so don't be tempted to add flour.

Transfer the dough to a work surface, pat into a ball and flatten into a disk, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 20 minutes. Then roll the dough down to 4 mm (1/8 inch).

Butter and dredge your muffin pans or molds with flour, line each with some pastry dough, and return to the fridge.

Bring 2/3 of the milk to a simmer and add the rice. Cook stirring until it's half done, then fold in the sugar, a pinch of salt, and the butter. Continue to cook, stirring and adding milk as the rice absorbs it, until the rice grains are quite soft.

Remove the mixture from the stove, let it cool until it is hot but not boiling, and stir in the eggs, liquor, cinnamon, vanilla and zest, mixing well.

Pour the mixture, divvying it among the prepared dough-lined molds, and bake for 15 minutes or until a light brown crust forms. Cover with foil and finish baking for another 10-15 minutes.

Remove the pastries from the oven, gently dislodge from the molds and let them cool on a rack. Dust with confectioner's sugar and serve at room temperature, with a nice cuppa.

Images © NatadiMarzo

 ...

A walk in the Jewish quarter

One of my favorite parts of the city is the Jewish Quarter of Rome.

I always enter from here, off the Piazza Mattei, through...

the Bernini–attributed turtle fountain

...a narrow and cobblestone-paved side street called Via della Reginella.

Always stopping to glimpse at the Judaica on the corner...

...and landing at my sanctuary, Boccione–the neighborhood bakery.

It smells wonderful in here, all day long.

After some small talk with one of the signoras that work the counter, I walk out with a pocketful of almond-cinnamon biscottini, and a big smile on my face.

Are you familiar with this part of Rome?

Frappe recipe

A carnevale ogni scherzo vale! This sentence translates to, "During carnival season, all pranks and practical jokes are allowed."
And so is eating fried pastries, dressing up in colorful costume, throwing confetti and being silly at any age. This year, carnevale has been pushed forward, because of the late Easter. But my annual revelry has already begun.

Image © mammafelice.it

Carnevale is a traditional Christian holiday celebrated in the two-week period that precedes Lent. Traditionally festivities are most lively between Maundy Thursday (giovedì grasso) and Shrove Tuesday, known here as fat Tuesday, martedì grasso, in French, mardi gras. That’s when the streets become dangerous. Especially around lunchtime, when school is out, and kids are armed and dangerous. Strolling down the street you can find yourself caught in the cross fire of projectile warfare. However this only constitutes a serious hazard to clothes and hairdos, since the designated ammo is usually only eggs, shaving cream, water balloons or stink bombs.

As a child back then and equally as a mother now, I look forward to the advent of carnevale not only because dressing up in costumes and make-up is fun, but also because at this time of year we are blessed with the traditional pastries called frappe.

What I grew up calling frappe go by an absurd variety of other regional names. Frappe means 'tassels,' but in Toscana they are called cenci, 'rags.' Southern chiacchiere means 'gossip,' nastri are 'ribbons,' bugie are 'lies,' lattughe means 'lettuce leaves.' Other local names include cròstoli (in Ferrara, Veneto, Trentino, Friuli), gale or galàni (in Venezia and Padova), intrigoni, lasagne, pampuglie, rosoni or sfrappole (in Emilia Romagna), cioffe (in Sulmona and central Abruzzo), and sfrappe in the Marche region. In the English speaking world I've heard them called lovers' knots.

These particular holiday fritters are crisp ribbons of rolled dough, dusted with powdered sugar. And just like their multiple names, the different incarnations are cut and shaped differently before being fried. Some are squared, diamond or irregular-shaped, some are tied into a loose knot. Some are light as a feather, others chewy and baked rather than deep-fried.

I'm warning you though–whatever their name, size or shape–frappe induce chain eating.

300 g (2 1/2 cups) flour, possibly "00" + more for dusting
100 g (1/2 cup) butter, softened
100 g (1/2 cup) sugar
2 eggs
Pinch of salt (if you're using unsalted butter)
1 packet of vanilla extract
Oil for frying
Confectioner's sugar

Mix the flour, sugar and a pinch of salt and shape into a volcano mound. Drop the eggs, butter and the vanilla extract in the crater and begin working the ingredients with your fingers to obtain a soft, supple dough.

Roll out the dough on a wooden work surface dusted with flour and a rolling pin, flattening it out to 1/8-inch in thickness. Cut flattened dough into strips using a sharp paring knife, or a pastry cutter, and deep fry small batches in plenty vegetable oil.

Remove from the frying oil with a slotted spoon and rest them on paper towels to absorb excess grease. When completely cool, dust them with confectioners' sugar, and serve wearing a domino mask.

Cornetto Nights

When asking around for a good "cornetto" place to finish off a night in Rome, it always feels like inquiring about a Masonic lodge. Folks check you out, trying to figure out if it's OK to disclose the secret. Then furtively looking around and whispering so as not to be overheard, miraculously an address slips out of tight lips, but only if you have been deemed worthy.

Everyone has a favorite cornetto dealer, almost always located in remote whereabouts, and typically underground. Directions to these secret society hang-outs usually begin with: "Look, it's a little bit complicated". This produces the stereotype middle-of-the-night knocking on unidentifiable shut gates in seedy industrial areas of the city, climbing in mysterious elevators, challenging three headed dragons and completing wild Hercules-style tasks to be granted the privilege of sinking one's teeth in a warm, fragrant just baked cornetto - a croissant.

It is therefore with the respect of an initiate introduced to a new religion that one must approach the subject. Humbly, head bowed, eyes averted. Listening carefully to the complex directions, treasuring them, keeping them safely in one's custody and dispensing them with extreme caution.

The address to a good cornettaro—Roman slang for the typical night-shift baker that sells croissants (usually an artisanal bakery/patisserie workshop) is worth gold. The perils cornetto seekers are faced with in the wee hours of the night are always lurking. One of them is seeing your favorite cornetto pusher shutting down. Er Montacarichi in via Pietralata 159A for example, a dimly lit warehouse whose service elevator pulls patrons up into the bowels of a steaming furnace where the goods are baked, and whose street level metal shutter has been mysteriously pulled down for years now. It would be trouble if the joint were no longer in business. Throngs of aficionados and cornetto junkies willing to to cross a deserted garage and climb in the musty floor lift would be at a loss without their nightly dose.

Those who believe such things can only happen in the outskirts of town are in for a surprise. Rome is dotted with cornettari. A city ordinance scared millions of nighttime consumers earlier this year when voices started circulating that selling food in bakeries and workshops after hours was illegal.

«Il cornetto è salvo» —the croissant is saved. Rome's mayor Alemanno's thundering sentence ended the controversy lifted by news of a presumed municipal law involving historic Roman cornettari, which prohibited the sale of their tasty goods after 1:00 am. A group gathered 8000 signatures on facebook for a picket line in Campidoglio, Rome's city hall; others feared a curfew blaming Alemanno's right wing affiliations to be returning Rome to its 20-year Fascist epoch, others simply feared the Eternal City would lose its status of cornetto capital that doesn't sleep. Whatever the political agenda, croissant bakers WILL continue to stay open and sell sweetness all night. And that's all that counts.

Image courtesy of 06blog

Last night, as my son snored in dreamy slumber, I payed the nanny's silence extra cash and tiptoed out of the house. I snuck out dressed in black, feverishly anticipating the adventure. Fortunately Laboratorio Lambiase has survived the bad economy and surge in cheap bars that serve stale cornetti made with industrially manufactured frozen dough.

I arrived at 1.15 am and the place was bopping with activity. Bystanders with glazed eyes and chocolate-smeared faces stood loitering the sidewalk, the moans of pleasure grew louder as I neared the small steps of the entrance that lead the believer down to a worldly universe of sweet pleasures. An exclusive circle, open to a selected handful of lucky few. Heroic knights who do not give in to the temptation offered by the luring neon lights of the "regular" cafes along the way, populated by lonely slot machine addicts and the occasional stranded drunk, no. This is a place for lionhearts and seekers of perfection.

The house specialty at Lambiase is a danish roll baked express and served hot. It is then filled with custard, fresh whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce. This awesome calorie bomb goes by the ambiguous (and cheeky) name of "Sorchetta Doppio Schizzo," which I cannot translate because I agreed to posting no adult content on this site. Let's just say the analogy is with kittens and female reproductive organs. The expression doppio schizzo is the description of the pastry's topping, and means "double squirt." The long line of triple-parked cars that obstruct Via Cernaia from midnight to dawn is the undeniable sign of Lambiase's (and their divine sorchetta specialty's) ongoing success. I saw people leaving the shop with bagfuls, and surely not for next morning's breakfast. Others were spilling in giggling and high with the perfumy air that escaped the ventilation shafts in the street. I reached the counter, asked for a sorchetta and ended up eating two. Plus took one home for Mr E.

Laboratorio Lambiase also specializes in regular croissants, krapfen (a delicious fried pastry filled with custard), donuts, puff pastry elephant ears locally called ventagli (elephant ears), bite-size spicy pizzas and rustici, which are small, assorted savory canapés.

Pasticceria Laboratorio Lambiase
Via Cernaia 47A Tel. +39 06 4941363
(please don't say I told you)

More worthy cornettari, divided by area:
Trastevere: Unnamed bakery/pastry shop on Vicolo del Cinque
Testaccio: No name pastry workshop on Via Alessandro Volta
Marconi/EUR: Il Cornettone in Via Oderisi da Gubbio; No name bakery workshop in Via Pietro Blaserna, 38
Monteverde: Unnamed pastry/bakery workshop in Via di Monteverde
Prati: Quelli della Notte on Via Leone IV; Dolce Maniera on Via Barletta, 29; Unnamed bakery workshop on Viale Angelico
Trionfale: No name bakery/pastry shop on Via Angelo Emo
Boccea: No name bakery/pastry shop on Via di Forte Bravetta
Centocelle: No name bakery/pastry shop on Via dei Platani
Parioli: Bambu's Bar on Viale Parioli; Marcucci in Piazzale Ponte Milvio

Nomentano: Pasticceria Romoli on Viale Eritrea, 140-142

L'Angolo Russo in Piazza Sempione

San Giovanni: No name bakery/pastry workshop on Via Albalonga, near Piazza Re di Roma
Cinecittà: Pasticceria Tichetti on Via Appio Claudio

Window-shopping at Gargani, Rome

A little food porn from the storefront window of Gargani, the Bulgari of Roman gourmet grocers.















Featured in this first picture:
Upper left-hand corner: the delectable tortellini Maletti with a prosciutto and Parmigiano filling. Notice how the pasta dough is bright yellow, you thank the farm hen and her organic eggs for that.
Above, center: ricotta and spinach ravioli, homemade by a local pastaio artisanal manufacturer
Upper right-hand corner: organic pesto sauce sold by weight
Middle: tagliolini all'uovo, fresh egg pasta, coarse and delicious thick angel hair-type
Lower left-hand corner: "caramelle," pasta dough 'candies' made with spinach, stuffed with Fontina cheese and ground walnut meats.
Below, center: mini potato gnocchi (the size of a thimble)
lower right hand corner, hand made Ligurian trofie (perfect marriage with above-mentioned pesto)

Second photo illustrates:

Upper left-hand corner: semolina gnocchi (typical of Rome). These are discs of polenta-style cooked semolina, and they are usually prepared by broiling them in the oven to form a crispy butter and grated Parmigiano crust.
Above, center: capellini (angel hair) egg pasta nests
Upper right-hand corner: reverse angle on aforementioned tortellini
Middle: assorted fresh homemade egg pasta, sold by weight
Lower left-hand corner: mini multi-colored potato gnocchi (tomato and spinach added to the potato flour mix)
Below, center: "caramelle" pockets stuffed with a pumpkin and crushed amaretto filling
Lower right-hand corner: regular potato gnocchi

And now, onto dessert. The following 2 pictures display:

Assorted crostate tarts (apricot marmalade, Nutella, blackberry jam, custard and pinoli (Italian for pine nuts), mixed dried fruits, etc. Notice the price in the foreground, €16,00 per kilo (hence the Bulgari nickname)
Marron glacées (candied chestnuts with a caramelized violet flower on top)
Fruit tarts, with prevailing strawberries (out of season, really...)
Salame di Cioccolato, a decadent chocolate dessert. For the recipe, see my rendition here
Antichi (way, way in the far back), a confection inspired by an ancient Roman recipe: baked pastry baskets filled with honey, almonds, raisins and pine nuts
Pastiera, the quintessential Neapolitan Easter cake made with wheat, ricotta and just a drop of orange blossom essence
Apple strudels, they come in any size, shape and form
And away, hidden in a far nook, a majestic bottle of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin, a damn fine Champagne

Zeppole di San Giuseppe

March 19th is the day of San Giuseppe. On this festive occasion, the Catholic Church honors Joseph, Mary's husband and one heck of a dedicated foster daddy. I like to think that for this reason, Italy conjunctively celebrates Father's Day, and these delicious fritters are the traditional festa fare.

People named Giuseppe are especially lucky here in Italy. On the day of San Giuseppe, their onomastico (saint name day) is enthusiastically celebrated throughout Italy. So auguri to all the Giuseppe, Peppe, Peppino, Beppe, Joseph, and Joe!

San Giuseppe also is the name of these festive zeppole. Pastry shops and local friggitorie – typical deep-fried food stands – churn them at an astonishing rhythm: that's because eating zeppole on March 19th is another one of those traditions that must be observed. 

The dough for Zeppole di San Giuseppe is prepared similarly to that for choux, also known locally as bigné. The main difference lies in the zeppole's lower butter content (healthier) and the cooking procedure: while bigné are baked in the oven, zeppole are instead deep-fried (action which nullifies previously attained health benefit). But why worry about calories? It's Father's Day. time to celebrate.
As promised, here's the recipe, Rosaria.

For the zeppole (yields about a dozen):
200 g (1 cup) all purpose flour, sifted
200 ml (1 cup) water
4 medium eggs
1/2 tsp cornstarch
100 g (1/2) butter, softened
Salt

For the creamy filling:
4 leveled tbsp flour, sifted
The rind or 1 small, organic lemon, closely trimmed of white pith
150 gr (3/4-cup) sugar
A vanilla bean (slit open lengthwise and scraped), or 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
The yolks of 4 very fresh eggs
500 ml (2 cups) whole milk
2 tbsp confectioner's sugar
A handful of Amarene (sour cherries stored in syrup)

The first thing you should prepare is the custard, crema pasticcera. Boil the milk with the vanilla and the lemon peel. 

In the meantime, lightly whisk the yolks and the sugar in a large mixing bowl to obtain a frothy mixture. Add the flour and keep stirring with a wooden spoon for roughly 4 minutes. Fish out and remove the vanilla pod (if you're using it) and the lemon rind, and combine with the eggy mixture in a deep saucepan.

Continue cooking the custard over mild heat until it barely reaches a slow boil. Count to 120 while stirring constantly and it's done. Note: depending on your eggs and milk, the crema pasticcera may thicken to the proper consistency before it boils. It should reach a point where it roughly resembles the texture of commercially sold firm yogurt.

Transfer the crema pasticcera to a bowl and let it cool, gently stirring it often to keep a "skin" from forming across the top.

Now onto the zeppole. Set the water, butter and a pinch of salt to heat, and when bubbles form on the bottom of the pot (it shouldn't come to a full boil) add the flour in one single swoop and stir constantly with a wooden spoon for 10 minutes. 

Remove from the stove and transfer the mixture to another clean vessel to allow it to cool at room temperature. Stir in the eggs one by one into a smooth, firm and homogeneous dough.

Cut 5-inch squares of parchment or oiled paper, and place on a large work surface.
Stuff the dough in a Ziploc bag and snip off a corner of it, using it as a "sac à poche" pastry chef's pocket. Squeeze out the dough to form 3-inch doughnuts and rest each on the parchment paper squares, keep in the fridge for another 20 minutes.

Frying the zeppole is tricky. Neapolitans insist on this procedure, and I'm reporting it as instructed by an eminent homemaker. 
You need 2 separate frying pans on the burners: in one the oil is warm, the other it is piping hot. In the first warm one, the zeppole puff up and detach from the paper, in the second they turn golden and crisp. 
I suggest you fry 2 zeppole per pan at a time, removing them as they reach the desired golden hue. 

Drain on a paper towel and cool before garnishing: slit them open and slather with your custard, recomposing the "sandwich" on a serving plate. Complete with a dusting of confectioner's sugar and a couple of syrupy amarena sour cherries per fritter. Park on your lap and prepare for ecstasy.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.

Image © Sarti del Gusto

Blueberry streusel recipe

I left the house bright and early, with self-gratification and coccole (cuddles) on my mind. After a 30 minute jog and an invigorating apricot body scrub, I sashayed into the Thai day spa for a herbal facial and a 90-minute Ayurvedic massage. 

Coming back home, floating on cloud 9, I left all tensions behind and… baked streusel. The beauty treatment is a 360° affair, is it not?

While E. helped by grinding the roast beans for my steaming demitasse of afternoon espresso, I whisked today’s ultimate merenda reward: blueberry coffee cake.

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
A pinch of salt
200 g (1 cup) granulated sugar
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
100 gr (1/2 cup) hazelnuts, coarsely chopped
100 gr (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, plus more for greasing (softened)
3 small eggs
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
200 g (1 cup) plain yogurt
200 g (1 cup) fresh blueberries (OK, thaw the frozen kind)
2 large eggs

For the streusel topping:

50 g (1/4 cup) pastry flour
100 g (1/2 cup) granulated sugar
50 g (1/4 cup) butter, cold and cut into small pieces
Preheat oven to 180° C (356° F).
Grease a 9-inch square cake pan with butter and dust it with flour.
Whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt.
In a large bowl, stir together the granulated sugar, cinnamon and hazelnuts. Beat in the butter at medium speed bursts until fluffy. If necessary, use the back of a spoon to press out any lumps. Break in the eggs, one at a time, beating until fully combined, and then finally stir in the vanilla and yogurt.
Add the flour mixture in 2 batches, stirring until just combined (over-stirring will make the batter harden), and fold in half the blueberries.

Spread half of the batter into the prepared pan, it will be quite sticky and messy, you can use a silicone spatula to make things easier. Sprinkle the nut mixture over the batter and top with the remaining blueberries. Spoon the rest of the batter into the pan, smoothing the top.
Make the streusel topping by mixing together flour and sugar in a bowl, rubbing the butter into the flour mixture with your fingers to form coarse blibby crumbs. Sprinkle these over the cake and bake until a dry spaghetti strand (or a toothpick) inserted in the center comes out clean, about 35 to 40 minutes.
Let the cake cool slightly while you brew your coffee, and then unmold. Allow it to cool completely on a wire rack (I hardly ever obey this last instruction) before cutting into 2-inch squares and applying to face.

A sweet little pastry shop downtown

Usually looking in the window of an Italian pasticceria or cake shop is to feel one's fillings twinge and one's heart lift; but not here. The inconspicuous entry to the Pasticceria Cinque Lune is for connoisseurs only. A small door, covered by a minimalist brown awning beckons only the experts to enter and relish their sweet destiny within.

The Italian Sunday tradition is all about keeping it lazy, lax and leisurely. This means waking up not too early, calmly reading the entire paper cover to cover, and eating breakfast in bed. For some, going to morning Mass, for others taking a stroll in the Centro Storico. One activity common to all however is making a stop at the local pastry shop and picking up the mandatory “paste” for dessert.
Il pranzo domenicale, the family’s Sunday lunch is a big deal here. Much more so than dinner, which usually is a piping hot cup of broth, a glass of bold red wine and not much else. Lunch on Sunday means getting the family around the table and making it a habitual and cheerful gathering: lots of great food, laughter and conversation, kids vaulting about high on excessive doses of sugars, grown-ups catching up on mutual work week endeavors, gossip, etc. The meal usually is structured in the typical 5-element menu: antipasto, a pasta or risotto dish, a protein main course of meat, poultry or fish, a vegetable side dish (or more than one, if the cook is in the mood), and dessert.
And this is where the requisite 11am stop at the pasticceria comes into play. Today the narrow retail section of the Pasticceria delle Cinque Lune was jam-packed to full capacity. Blame it on the midday sun that gave us Romans a breather from a solid week of rain, or perhaps the aroma of the freshly baked typical Carnevale specialties frappe, castagnole and zeppole emanating from the tiny pastry workshop and wafting into the streets. We had to fight our way to the head of the confused line to get our kilo of assorted goodies.
Pastries are sold by weight, dusted with extra confectioner’s sugar and wrapped in the trademark red paper and gold twine. E scoffed 2 deep-fried zeppole on the go while we chatted with la Signora Anzuini at the cash register, noticing how he had grown since Christmas, when she last saw him.


Pasticceria Cinque Lune infact also makes excellent 100% certified organic panettone, pandoro, torrone and other traditional Roman festive sweets, like pangiallo Romano, ricciarelli, pampepato and panforte. At Easter, the pasticceria confects decorated chocolate eggs of all sizes and cocoa content, each holding a little gift-wrapped surprise within its polished haves. This should come as no surprise, the “Five Moons” after all boasts its fourth generation of pasticceri artisans since its founder Salvatore Anzuini opened shop in 1902, so besides interesting German pastries like Krantz, Stollen or a fantastic semi-sweet braided breakfast bread, Claudio Anzuini and his team bake mouthwatering custom-made birthday cakes, monumental Mont Blancs, tarts of all types – the best being of course crostata di visciole – Sacher torte and the establishment’s signature "antichi romani," an ancient Roman recipe for crumpled puff pastry stuffed with ricotta cheese, honey and poppy seeds. Not to mention the pasticceria mignon: bite-sized versions of the above mentioned cakes, classic pastries, sfoglaitelle, fruit tartlets and more.



My mother’s abundant Sunday fares pacified our appetite and prized our gluttonous nature. The Carnevale pastries from Cinque Lune escalated our blood-sugar levels through the roof. At least until next Sunday.

Pasticceria Cinque Lune
Corso Rinascimento, 89
00186 Roma
Tel. +39 06 68801005

Forkfuls of bliss

After two consecutive weeks of rain, chill and gray skies, this morning’s sun came as a godsend. As did J’s impromptu invitation.

After picking up E from daycare and dropping him off in his nanny's loving arms, I dashed off to Trastevere where lunch among old friends on a dazzling sunlit terrace overlooking rooftops was waiting to happen.

J, F and I spent our matchless midday meal catching up on our cluttered lives, making merry in the blazing sunshine while downing copious amounts of fruity Pignoletto and devouring J's delicious swordfish and fresh tomato spaghetti.

The conversation swerved between film sets, script notes, exotic weddings, acting lessons, our mutual colorless sex lives, books, religion, private jets, friendship, wealth, home improvement injuries, supermarket prices and grand plans for the Future.

For dessert we pounced on the sugar coated zeppole and the fried bigné di S. Giuseppe F had picked up on his way over, and J brewed a gallon of espresso in his 15 demitasse-capacity stovetop moka. As Jimi Hendrix sensually licked and bit the strings of his Fender Stratocaster in the background, the afternoon waned into an orange sunset.

I love my friends.