Mission Accomplished: Carcofi Guidia

Tuesday marked our first all day field trip in weeks that would take place strictly within the bounds of Rome itself. This doesn’t mean that it was any shorter or less strenuous, we spent the entire morning retracing the triumphal route of the conquering Roman generals (the path on which they would march after returning from battles abroad to display their spoils of war in an awesome spectacle and assert their power). I made it out of bed in response to my alarm, assembled my longchamp, grabbed some breakfast (my new favorite thing the centro has to offer is coffee yogurt… kind of odd, but great), took my cestini bag which per usual contained a container of provolone/prosciutto and Pina cake (Pina is Franco the director’s wife and this is his name for her yellow pound cake that I eat once a week), hopped on the bus, and got off at the Largo Argentina stop.

I would call this morning anything but exciting. We first listened to the professors talk about the giant ditch of ruins in the area called Largo Argentina (the name comes from a tower nearby that medieval popes erected). It reminded me of Boston back in its big dig days. Ok that was harsh. I was just trying to come up with a visual for you. I was paying attention, as this was our first stop on the old triumphal route and  there were several fascinating manubial temples in the ditch, which the generals of the wealthy men of the fighting Catulus family dedicated during the 3^rd/2^nd century. Manubial temples are temples that generals built to honor a vow they made in battle when imploring to the gods to help them.

Anyways, an hour and a half later at the climactic ending of manubial temple marathon, and just as I was dozing off circa 10:50AM, I smelled something wonderful that fired neurons in my distant memory, and then a few minutes later I saw stars… and then I fainted like I did that time in tenth grade after the drunk driving assembly (this is an embarrassingly true story) and everyone freaked out.

GOTCHA!!

Just kidding, I was in the Jewish Ghetto, smelled a baking loaf of my cousin Debbie’s challah, and saw Jewish stars on the signs of all the restaurants around me. The Jewish ghetto is located where the ancient Circus Flaminius stood, which was a meeting ground for Plebian assemblies and a place for spectacles for large groups. Quintus Flamininus, (pronounced Flam-in-eye-nus) was another general of the Roman Republican conquering era who was known for finally subduing the annoying Macedonian King Philip and cleverly pulling all of the fickle Greek city-states into the Roman empire. In Ancient Greek class the day before, I had translated a section of Flamininus’ personal biography written by the Greek author Plutarch. This snippet illuminated his character; he is exemplary of the types of individuals running around in the hey day of the Roman Republic.

During the Greek Isthmian games, an annual event in which Greeks from all city states would participate as a statement of their unity and peace (sort of like the Olympics), Flamininus ostentatiously decided to announce their freedom and ability to exist peacefully and without taxation or garrison, of course thanks to the Romans and mainly Flamininus himself. Plutarch describes how Flamininus became the champion of the games. The Greeks didn’t even care about the other athletic competitions signifying peace and independence, they just wanted to greet and hail their savior. Flamininus is only one example of the power hungry characters I encountered this week who left his mark on the city by spoils of war.

So after exploring the fruits of the Roman expansion in the third and second century BC, it was time for the real challenge: finding fried artichokes (Carcofi guidia), the legendary dish of the Jewish Ghetto in Rome, despite no restaurants yet being opened. Most classmates settled for the ricotta chocolate torte cake found in the bakery on the corner (a bakery to which I will certainly return to buy challah as soon as I am back from my travels of the next two weeks), but determined girls like Alex and I knew what we wanted and set out ambitiously in search of the legendary artichokes. Along the way we were side tracked at a tourist shop because Alex absolutely needed to buy a gold SPQR bracelet. At first I protested the detour and said that we couldn’t afford digressions (she won), BUT while she was paying, the cashier overheard us talking about our mission. It was fate and five minutes later we were sitting in his buddy’s restaurant called La Bella Nonna (one of the most renowned, and yes mom its Zagat rated, restaurants in the ghetto). We were invited to sit down and treated to a to-go package of two, right out of the oil, perfectly sized fried artichokes. My artichoke melted the second it hit my mouth, a perfect combination of sweet and salty as Alex so perfectly claimed. I have never tasted anything so delightful in my entire life, and never again will I roll my eyes at the Zinman dinner table when Howard and Margie rave about the time they went to the Jewish ghetto in Rome and had fried artichokes without me. Mission accomplished! We are planning on taking our centristi friends back to La Bella Nonna for a Saturday night dinner in November, as we befriended the owner, host, and angelic cashier who showed us the path to salvation.

Fried Artichokes!!!

Friday morning we leave for the land of the godfather himself. SICILIA! A week of bus rides, over night ferries, changing hotels daily, Greek colonies, and delicious vino. Oh and of course finding a fabulous gangster to marry. Arrrrrivaderci amici!

Lizzie and I

Night Out!

On the manubial temple Marathon we went into an underground restaurant in which remains of the Theater Complex of Pompey are still visible! Notice the perfect opus reticulatum (first century BC style) on the wall behind me.