Food Trucks in Rome

I first started hearing of construction site–meets–Hollywood film set roach coaches turned into gourmet gatherings in L.A., by friends and family who raved about top chefs going mobile, and mouthwatering tweets that informed hungry patrons at which corner the best Asian taco truck would park that day. The food truck buzz was too loud to ignore, so taking advantage of my nephew's wedding in Texas this past July, trip that included some quality time in California, I decided to investigate the US food truck scene in the only way possible. Eating my way through it.

First up I hit Dallas, and found an astonishing street food scene. Not all fried green beans and ribs, here I tasted some of the best Korean fusion and tacos north of San Luis Potosì. If the term "kimchee fries" says nothing to you, look up ssahmBBQ.com. Austin showed some pretty nice food on wheels – can't forget the fried chicken, shrimp and avocado coated in an almond, sesame seeds, cornflakes and chili panure – as did Houston, with it's superlative Tex-Mex and sensational food-truck meetups advertised in the lifestyle section of the paper.

Then it was San Francisco, with its illuminated food culture and eating activism. The city's food trucks went beyond fusion and value meals, these put actual white tablecloth restaurant chefs on the expandable/collapsible kitchens for some serious high-end, gourmet mobile eats, like the former organic farming students that run a rotisserie truck that serves heritage pork, free-range chicken and local lamb. Awesome!

At the Monterey weekly farmer's market, the tandoori oven on wheels fed flocking crowds some of the best chicken and chapatti I've had in a long time. Next in line I checked Los Angeles, another epiphany: Reuben sandwich trucks, breakfast food trucks, bacon-with-everything trucks, fried chicken and waffles trucks, BBQ burger trucks, cold stone ice cream trucks, thai-mex trucks, lobster sandwich trucks, sustainable trucks running on vegetable oil, dumpling & samosa trucks... each selling all kinds of awesome grub.

Every single pop-up wheeled enterprise I tried, offered great food that was cooked well, and cost reasonably little. Each business I ate at had a Facebook page, a Twitter account, QR codes and catering gigs lined up 'til 2014. These people understand the importance of communication, image and hard work: they dish out an average of 300 lunches a day, and besides creating a new food trend, they keep their clientele informed and happy, raise good cash, and most importantly, are bringing people back to dining.

photo © www.cousinsmainelobster.com

I began to feel a little envious. Seriously, why can't we have that here? Can't we replicate this genius phenomenon in Italy too, where food can be good but lacks international variety, the economy is in a down-pointed vortex, and any food fad tagged USA is a sure hit (well, except for Starbucks)?

Does the average Italian Joe that lunches out need to necessarily sit at a table, read his meal off a menu (albeit scribbled on a chalkboard) and perforce use silverware? Is the food truck concept too alien for Italians? Might the idea of a mobile cuisine be scary to the locals, who tend to associate it with the dubiously painted and hygienically–challenged panini-gelato-pizza carts that charge €5 for a bottle of lukewarm mineral water, and that Roman rodents are so fond of? Or can present day Italy, habitual to street food and regular historic invasions by foreign cultures, actually become the next food truck frontier? Mauro Uliassi, a cheerful Michelin-starred chef from Senigallia, is probably the first trying to make it happen, with his mobile food caravan.

photo © dissapore

At Torino's recent Salone del Gusto - Terra Madre world food extravaganza, Uliassi, who wisely focuses his efforts on street food, parked his little "StreetGood" kitchen cart in the middle of Lingotto's Padiglione 2 and sold fried morsels and gourmet sandwiches to the audience. All food coma and festival stupor aside, I think his was one of the best ideas present at the Salone del Gusto. He proved that good, affordable food can be brought to the many, and be available via roving kitchens.

I interviewed a friend and fellow expat foodie living in Rome who dispenses wine pleasures with her Vinoroma wine tasting venture, and that is strongly invested in the Rome food scene. When I asked her opinion on food trucks having a chance in Rome, the response was more than enthusiastic. It sounded like a business pitch. This got my metaphoric glands salivating.

So here I am calling out to you, my fellow expat friends living in Rome, with an idea. I'm looking for partners in a crazy venture. I want to start a Rome food truck movement, in a moment in which Italian food is in dire need of a revolution.

I am speaking to you. You who will sell a limb for a decent burrito. Yes, you right there stubbornly believing Rome will one day deliver a properly toasted bun for that 25% fatty burger you crave. You, with the Asian noodle fetish, and you there, in constant unfulfilled Rome ethnic food lust: if you haven't surrendered, come to me. Let's pool ideas, let's get serious, brainstorm, talk Kickstarter and buy that old Airstream van in the Cinecittà scrap heap. The required start-up capital should be minimal. Let's get this Rome food truck scene moving, and let us "stranieri" give Rome the dream. Starting with fulfilling our own, down in the streets.

foto © allbarnone

Dinner with Alice Waters

I received and invitation a few weeks ago that I could not turn down, simply because it involved good food and the promise of an intimate conversation... with Alice Waters.

The founder and mastermind behind the Berkeley cradle of food revolution Chez Panisse Restaurant, activist of the locavore movement that has been shifting food education and eating habits across the nation, and ultimately the Rome Sustainable Food Project, was coming to Rome for a benefit hosted by the very American Academy Rome kitchen miracle she performed 6 years ago, and I was going to be a part of it.

The American Academy Rome and Alice Waters appointed executive chef Mona Talbott, sous chef Chris Boswell, and a varied team of cooks and interns, to provide tasty and healthy meals for the Academy's fellows and scholars using fresh, organic, regional and seasonal produce and herbs grown for the kitchen on the Academy property. Before this, the Academy's food was historically a nightmare. After 5 years since the birth of RSFP, Mona decided to return to New York, leaving Chris Boswell in charge of the well-oiled kitchen. One of the reasons I support the RSFP by signing up as a Friend of the Academy (an annual donation of €75) was so that I could attend the many events hosted here, but mostly to enjoy the labor of love of Mona, Chris, Mirella and the rest of the kitchen staff on those weekdays when Friends (and friends of Friends, up to 10!) can come eat a buffet lunch composed of garden produce cooked with love for only a handful of Euros.

Back to the dinner. So here I am, climbing the Janiculum Hill under a full moon, and entering the candle-lined path of Villa Aurelia, a sage-smelling trail that will ultimately lead me to being in the same room with one of the women that mostly influenced my way of foraging, cooking and providing healthy meals for my child. My heart is fluttering, and it's not because of the uphill workout. Well, that too.

Cocktails are served in a beautiful frescoed room of the second floor, lit by ginormous chandeliers, soft notes waft from a grand piano and I immediately spot Ms Waters chatting with another guest. While I sip on a very good drink made with whiskey, ginger ale and rosemary, I glance over to the table that's been set for us in the main dining room.

Ok, not as intimate as we had expected, but still, breathtaking. Candles flicker and fruits from the AAR garden adorn the table, place cards are hand drawn, picturing seasonal veggies. Almost too perfect.

The bread baskets overflow with Roscioli buns, wines are poured generously and the meal is nourishing, prepared by no other than Mona Talbott, who has come back to the AAR just for this occasion, what a lovely surprise to see her there! Pictured below is the evening's menu.

The seating arrangement is decided on a draw, I happen 2 seats from the guest of honor and next to me is a lovely young lady named Luisa, who works as photo editor for the NY Times and is now living in Rome with her husband, a graphic design fellow at the Academy and their 4 year-old son. To my other side sits Vikki of In Rome Now, a helpful online resource I often use. Small world.

Between courses, Alice Waters addresses the guests and speaks enthusiastically of Italy and its food education, habits and values. Her soft-spoken, slight Southern drawl clashes with the iron principles she so stubbornly stands for, but I guess that makes sense. She has only words of praise for Italy, the Slow Food movement founded by Carlo Petrini, and all the wonderful options we are given here.

Except, I'd like to say something, but I don't dare. I'd like to whisper that it's not really a bed of roses, that way too many supermarkets and bad eating habits are common here too, not only overseas. I'd like to say that the image of this dolce vita lifestyle, with nonna's recycling of leftovers and solid morality in the grocery shopping list is sadly not happening.

The average family does not have all that much choice. Sadly there is no chance to forage wisely, no trace of the community gardens Alemanno promised Waters during her last visit 2 years ago... nor of the edible schoolyards purportedly commissioned in every public school of the city. Niente. I'd like to say it out loud that it's still brutally expensive to shop at the farmers markets and Italian CSA equivalents because mass distribution is killing us... I should say something (bites nails)...

But I don't. I remain silent because I'm hopeful. Maybe the revolution brought in the kitchen of the American Academy will spread like a sweet virus, and all discount supermarkets, antibiotic-spiked animals, dioxin-rich mozzarella and Monsanto will magically disappear in a cloud of vapor. I see Katie squirming in her seat, I'm sure she feels the same conflict. I take another sip of Sagrantino di Montefalco and let Alice Waters finish her speech without interruptions.

Vervain tea and biscotti are served in the inner sanctum: the library of Villa Aurelia. I loved the Nuciata c'addauru, a Sicilian candy bar that's like a walnut brittle made with honey and spices, but pressed between two bay leaves, which are eaten whole. I'm trying to capture the awesome lingering flavor combo (while dislodging laurel bits from my teeth) when a gentle and prosperous Cecilia Tessieri takes the floor. In a charming broken English she poetically tells us about Amedei and her family's artisan craft in Pontedera... and the chocolate tasting trays are passed around. Yes, and Im in heaven.

Outside the library window is a terrace, and beyond that terrace, Rome blinks her million lights, proffering her black velvet décolletage. Spectacular, I feel so thankful to be here.

With far too many assorted alcoholic drinks in me and blood sugar three times over the decency level, I skip down the sage path and say my farewells.

I'm half way home when I realize I didn't say goodbye to Alice Waters.

All grainy iPhone photos taken by me, save for the opening portrait, courtesy of Chez Panisse

Again, apologies

I apologize.

This blog has been inactive for a ridiculous amount of time.

I found 25 unmoderated comments and have been receiving emails form friends who complain the lack of updates. That is unacceptable!

Work and my life have really taken a toll on my blog time, but that's no excuse, especially when on the reading end are folks like you who are so affectionate, loyal and actually interested in what I have to say!

Take Debbie, for example.

Not only has she been on one of my foodie walks, awarded me with a trophy, she also likes to send things in the mail. Last month we received a box full of goodies and happiness, photos, clothes and love.

And Jeff? He's a keeper. When he last visited Rome he brought me some of his state's specialties, a toy for my son and he treated us to lunch in one of my favorite places.

Cannot forget to mention Geli, Rosaria, Eddie, Jim and Lori, among the first to follow this blog from its very beginnings in 2009. They have been a constant source of compassion, love and sound advice. I'd also like to remember the friends that are no longer posting, but looking over us from heaven, Renee and Tessa, along with Brian and Moannie, and the other angels I've had the fortune of crossing paths with thanks to this blog.

There are many of you that I'd like to thank for hanging in there and always supporting this blog. You have to trust me, I'll keep posting – and I promise it'll be more often.

So, this is not goodbye, it's a loud and ebullient arrivederci!

100 Places in Italy Every Woman Should Go - 2nd Edition!

I am so proud to announce that Aglio, Olio e Peperoncino is in the new edition of 100 Places in Italy Every Woman Should Go, in the new Online Resources section, in great company among author Susan Van Allen's favorites!

Time ago I shared a chapter from the previous edition which focused on women–owned wineries in Italy.
This coming fall, why not indulge in a true Tuscan vineyard experience, with views of olive groves, villas and distant castles in the company of Susan herself during a week of bliss between November 3 and November 10, 2012?

Learn more about Susan Van Allen's Golden Week in Tuscany: For Women Only!

How to make coffee with a Napoletana pot

Sure, the piping hot cup you get at the coffee bar in Italy is something else. With its trademark froth and energetic kick, properly extracted espresso is superb.

But as far as homemade coffee goes, the Napoletana stovetop espresso pot historically delivers the best.

The flavor of the caffè is "round," longer and more complex than regular coffee made with a Moka.

Naples is a city often associated with pizza and spaghetti. But if you've ever tasted coffee in Naples, you'll agree it's probably the best you've ever had. Scholars hold the water responsible, others say it's the technique, some say it's magic. The Napoletana was invented in 1819, and is used less and less on a regular basis in Italian households. And that's because using a Napoletana is not easy: bizarre mechanics, empirical measurements and lots of patience are involved.

Here is a step-by-step tutorial on how to brew a little bliss with a Napoletana, a ritual more than a method.

Tip: Use only the best finely ground coffee. Coffee powder is best kept in an air-tight glass or glazed earthenware container, not plastic. And stored in a cupboard, not the refrigerator.

Tip: Don't skimp on the coffee powder. Compact it with the back of a spoon and then make 3 little holes in the surface with a toothpick.

Tip: Overturn the Napoletana in one quick, single move, holding it by both handles. During this movement water will spout from the escape hole, this is totally normal.

Tip: While you wait for the water to drip down through the filter, make a little paper cone called "coppetiello," and place it on the spout. This will keep the aroma form escaping the pot :)

Waiting times vary according to pot. Mine takes 15 minutes to full drip down, some are quicker. You'll have to figure that part out on your own.

Can't find a Napoletana (also called maghenetta in dialect) where you live?

Buy one on my Amazon store and have it delivered to your doorstep!