All About The People: Nuraghe Sardo, Rome
I wrote a recent post about my top five food memories of all time, and as I read it I have two reactions; One that brings me pure joy, loving to romanticize these meals, some from a decade ago. The other reaction, is thinking that this list of five does not even scratch the surface of meals that changed my life. So, where does that leave me...all these wonderful memories and no blog post to show for them!
When I really start to break it down though, the food always tastes better with great service and great company. The memories that are worthy of being added to the list of ‘greatest meals’ exist because they are also immediately associated to great people.
The Food is all about the people. All about the people.
This is a dedication post to great restaurants, but really an appreciation post for great service, for thoughtful farming, for brilliant cookery, and maybe the most important of them all for me, front of house excellence. Those that leave you up on cloud nine from the experience they gave you; these are the hard working folks of my beloved industry that don’t always get the love, so a tip of my hat to you!
Todays post speaks once again to my time spent in Rome, and more specifically to my father and the wonderful owners of Nuraghe Sardo, a Sardinian restaurant just north of the Vatican. As I wrote about my dad and our infamous bucatini with meat sauce in a previous post, this particular memory kept nagging at me. I always felt like Nuraghe Sardo should have been apart of that list.
Pictured: Dad and I in Rome at the Stadio Olimpico. I do not have many pictures of us but this is one of my all time favorites, AND it represents dads trip to visit me that holds 2 of my most precious food memories ~ Bucatini with Meat Sauce, and Narughe Sardo.
Il dolce far niente. – It is sweet doing nothing.
For so many reasons, this food memory lives with me. The first of those was that we had planned to eat elsewhere, just up the street in fact at a local haunt that the owner of the apartment Dad and Laura (stepmom) were staying at recommended. I remember feeling excited for this meal.
Upon arrival, there were about six available tables in the quaint little dining room, but we were quickly told they were all full. This is not the type of restaurant that does reservations, but instead, I was left feeling like we were too American to eat there. Being the privileged young woman that I am, I don’t think I had much experience at that point in my life being somewhere that I was so clearly unwanted. As I stood there and haggled in my broken Italian it became very clear that there was no amount of “wait time” that was going to ever free up a table for us. In a moment of frustration, my dad, stepmom and I walked out and marched down the street back where we had come from. As our bellies rumbled and our attitudes diminished we decided somewhat quickly to walk into a restaurant we had passed earlier that evening. As soon as we walked in the door, the owner welcomed us like we were family. I will never forget him and the female server who waited on us that day. They were exceptional, and kind, and nothing is better than kindness.
The magic of this experience was even though we didn’t speak the same language we fell in love with the people, we couldn’t read the menu and yet the best dishes hit the table, we hadn’t planned to be there, but we were dropped into this perfectly captivating evening. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, things unexpected can turn into the most enchanting memories. The most vivid thing I remember was eating a beautifully cooked whole white fish, laid on a bed of thinly sliced potatoes. Sardinians know there way around a fish, Ill just leave it at that. I remember Laura and dad taking a bite and smiling, I remember thinking ‘I am living the Roman dream’. You are supposed to have those influential “italian” moments when you’re here, and I thought this was the most special of those kinds of moments. A silly romanticized thought, but one that still brings me joy, and will live with me for the rest of my life.
Italian culture in general is much slower paced than the American rat race, they indulge in coffee and sweets in the morning, in an afternoon siesta, they sit down to eat and have no expectation of when they will leave, they share their wine with anyone who wants, they eat and drink and smoke, and eat and drink and smoke their way through an evening like no other place I have ever been. You do not have to love every aspect of this, I know many are not fond of the smoking or the 4 hour dinners, but what you must do when in Italy is embrace this purposefully mellow and beautiful lifestyle.
La Dolce Vita - The Sweet Life
As the night went on, the owner would bring us different dishes to try, all of his favorites and all of them equally delicious. My favorite part though was my introduction to the culture behind Limoncello. If you are not familiar, this is a Lemony alcoholic beverage that is synonymous with Italian restaurant culture. As we approached the desert portion of our meal, I really could not tell you exactly what we ate, but what I do know is that my father almost threw back an entire bottle of Limoncello by himself! And this man does not drink like that. I think all 3 of us were surprised by this element of service; 3 little cups and a 750ml of Limoncello, now maybe in normal circumstances this is not so normal, to give customers free drinks. In our case though, the owner kept urging us on and wanted us, his new American friends, to enjoy ourselves. Do note, while not far from the Vatican we were in a residential area where most tourist are not wandering too, for this reason I think he took a liking to us. I know we also got a brown bottle of booze at some point, my guess looking back is that it was some kind of Sherry, or Fernet, or maybe more likely Frangelico, Marsala or Nocino; one of the many famous Italian liquors.
As I reflect back on this beautiful gem of a memory, I do believe there is an aspect to this communal gifting of beverages and food that is quintessentially Italian. An while yes we did pay, we did not pay for nearly as much as we consumed, because the beauty of this memory is the real joy they had in sharing a piece of them with us. Ill never forget that. To break bread with neighbors, to feed them, to laugh together, to spend 3 hours at the dinner table exchanging stories and cigarettes, topping off glasses and clinking them merrily; there is no other place on earth that does community and food quite like the Italians. A tip of my hat to this culture, but more importantly to the owner and family that ran this restaurant, what a beautiful place. One night, that may have seemed like any other to you, is forever burned into my mind even fifteen years later!