This time of year in Rome, one of the few veg (contorno) choices on the menu is cicoria. It is ofttimes described as chicory, which is true. But it’s not quite like the bitter green we eat in the USA. Well, it is. And it’s not.

The Roman preparation is simple, and delicious!! It has clearly been sautéed in olive oil with some red pepper flakes and sometimes garlic. And served room temp.

For the longest time while living here I was obsessed with finding out exactly what vegetable it was. I finally landed on dandelion greens. Not exactly like the ones we buy in the States – the ones here are more tender. Maybe young. Not sure.

And then one afternoon, as I stalked (yep – went there) the Date Lady at the Campo de’ Fiori market – waiting for my beloved nature’s candy to come in – I thought to ask “what are those greens you use to make cicoria.”

Of course, I had to buy myself a bag of this cicorietta. That afternoon as I tromped back to my appartamento in Monti – I happened by the Taverna Romana – and saw that night’s offerings on the chalkboard. At the top: Spaghetti con Cicoria e Pecorino.

Another obsession was born! I needed to make that dish. I had my greens. Now I had to have the rest of the ingredients needed to create this pasta meal at home.

Even though I walked by it every day, I somehow missed the Alimentari shop on my street, the Via del Boschetto. They might as well have called the store “everything Janet needs to cook tonight.” (Which makes total sense: alimentari means FOOD in Italian).

Anyway, they sold me precisely the amount I wanted. A small bottle of Extra Virgin, a tiny chunk of pecorino, spaghetti, a dinky pouch of peperoncini.

Even this:

TWO, yes 2! Anchovy Fillets

Who sells just two anchovy fillets? How many grotty opened cans of anchovies – with their congealed fat – lost in the nether world at the back of your frig – have you flipping tossed!!??

Not gonna lie!!

IT WAS DELISH!!!

20120418-205635.jpg

Lest you think I only eat thinly disguised donuts that don’t seem like they’re donuts because they have names I can’t recall — here is my porta via (take out) dinner purchased at a pizza/forno (bakery) in Monti. The turisti are all out in the piazzas now, or at the wine bars, or having those little glasses of nuts and chips & plates of savories with their glasses o’ wine (read Apertivi Time in Rome). There were only Italians in this pizza joint, working folks, grabbing a little slab of pizza like me. I walked away with veggie pizza with a slice of potato tossed on — and then oh those greens!

Why are they so damn good!?! I make them at home. They dont taste like this. Granted, I don’t see those water tubs with stalky greens floating in them that seem ubiquitous in every shop or super mercado I have visited. I went with cicoria (chicory) tonight. Alas, I think the punterelle season is over.

Now, don’t get me wrong, this is not all I do while in Rome: eating. I have been museuming, churching, praying, monumenting, Pantheoning, Coliseuming. Walking, walking, walking. It’s that food as microcosm thing at play. The way a culture does their food is the way they live and think. Hey, better minds than mine have pondered this. People you might say who are higher on the food chain. But, the Italians express themselves with those plates of bitter greens yanked from the ground. And, by the way, those Roman greens are nothing like the ones in Florence. Or, Assissi.

I ran into a funny blog written by an Italian in America when looking for the name of that killer sweet I had for breakfast. The writing is in Italian, but you get the drift with the pictures. This hapless soul looked into the face of Taco Bell coffee and a Hearty Man breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, pancakes and toast. When all he wanted was un caffè e un cornetto.