I’ve had my tea, done my stretching exercises and gotten dressed and now, since I need something a bit more to get me going – to carburare as the Italians would say – I’m ready to go downstairs and get my first espresso of the day.

I’ve been in Rome now for ages, and I don’t have to spend much time deciding which “bar” as a café  is generally called here, I will go to. Ever since I first moved here from the US, I’ve always lived in the same patch of the Trastevere neighbourhood  and although I occasionally introduce a bit of variety, generally speaking my when my feet hit the cobblestones I head right for “my bar”. Called simply “BAR”, on the corner of Vicolo del Cinque and Vicolo di Bologna.

I admit that this place does not look like much, and although it’s somewhat more spiffy than when I first starting coming here, there are lots of places in Rome (although not many around here) that are better furnished and more chic. But that of course has never been the point.

The main point is the coffee, one of my few vices. The second is Giancarlo, the extremely witty but somewhat temperamental barman who has been working here for 25 years. And the third is the chance to be a real part of the immediate neighbourhood, since most mornings I will run into the postman, the brothers who run the jewellery store across the street, the very loud but simpatico wife of the greengrocer, several restaurant owners, a couple of garbage men taking a break, the cops who are duty in the next piazza and Giancarlo and Stella the dress-alike upholsterers from around the corner. It’s like  Cheers, the place where “everyone knows your nay yay yame”.

You  soak up a lot of  neighbourhood gossip here, overhear arguments and get to join in discussions on the weather, the fate of Alitalia, Berlusconi and last night’s TV quiz show.

But you also get to witness, repeatedly, the amazing variety that Italians’ coffee orders take. Espresso or espresso decaf  can be ristretto (less water, more coffee) ristrettissimo, lungo (more water), macchiato caldo (with a bit of hot milk) or macchiato freddo (with cold milk).

Some (usually blue collar workers) want their coffee corretto, that is spiked with something alcoholic. Others want it al vetro, in a small glass rather than the classic demitasse cup. Then there’s the cappuccino (never, never to be drunk at the end of a meal) which sometimes gets modified in the following ways: senza schiuma (no foam) poco schiuma, tiepido (lukewarm), scuro (less milk) or chiaro (more milk).

Since politically correct hasn’t sunk in here as it has in France where one can no longer order a small black coffee with the words, un petit noir, some people ask Giancarlo to make un marocchino, a Moroccan, which is  a lovelty-to-look-swirly drink of ….. What isn’t asked for much these days is a caffe latte which is more of a home breakfast drink especially for older children. And if you’re lucky, you’ll get to hear and American asking for a “latte” and ending up with….a swirly drink of caffé, chocolate and cream.

Curious about Italy? Check out Sari Gilberts's own blog. 

Call us cheesy, but momondo has gone crazy for coagulated milk. We've given our writers the mission of uncovering 'le meilleur fromage' in Paris, 'il migliore formaggio' in Rome, the stinkiest cheeses in New York and the hands-down best cheeses in London, Madrid and Brussels. So grab yourself some bread and wine and join us on this tour of the best cheese shops in Europe.

Rome 

Volpetti has been serving the working-class quarter of Testaccio since 1973. Over time, the deli has evolved into a foodie destination, a place to sample and buy some of the best products in Rome.

Volpetti’s employees are well-practiced in catering to the fantasies of food pilgrims. They were eyeing me from the moment I walked in – another foreign girl wearing a gluttonous grin.  I was taken by the elbow and shown a starter cheese, an accessible pecorino. “That’s nice,” I said while nibbling on a wedge. “Now what else can I taste?”

My particular guide, after sizing me up, returned with a cheese and a conspiratorial wink. “Try this,” he said, pushing a slice toward me across the cold marble counter. “It’s very good,” I conceded, and he began slicing white fig and pouring some sweet white wine. “Together,” he nodded, and I married the tastes before melting into the floor.

What happened thereafter is a bit of a blur. There were many more cheeses, a number of sausages, vinegars and oils. I was moving around in a euphoric daze, tasting everything, shouting “si!”

I approached the cash register with some hesitation while my purchases were being wrapped. Just how much would all this cost, I wondered, catching sight of a frightening sticker. With the Bagoss di Bagolino priced at 90€ per kilo, I was glad to have asked for a very small slice.

"Your total is 114€, Signora. And our credit card machine is broken.”

After emptying my wallet and also that of my friend, we left completely broke and with thoughts of a conciliatory cheese party back in Paris. Another smiling young woman was entering Volpetti as we were going out. “Good luck,” I told her. “You’ll need it.”

Volpetti Deli Shop, Via Marmorata 47, Rome

Go further: See where in Rome Sari gets her Betty Crocker mix and sugar-free jello.....

Even though her studio is only three blocks away, I haven’t seen my friend Gloria Argelés in ages. I don’t really don’t feel like going out to dinner (for most locals, the 30 euro per person minimum you end up spending in a restaurant these days is a turn off). So what to do?

Increasingly, I do as the Italians do. I call Gloria, an Argentine sculptress, and invite her to meet me at Ombre Rosse, the nearby café where, as elsewhere in Rome, the aperitivo, a long-standing Italian tradition which for a time had sort of gone into eclipse – is back in swing, with the 21st century addition of lots and lots of free food (you pay only for your drinks).

Here, as in cafés throughout the Italian capital,  people are sitting  sipping brightly-colored drinks, chatting and frankly appraising their neighbors, something that back in the U.S. would be considered unacceptable staring but here on the continent is a normal part of wordless social discourse.

The young and always pleasant servers at Ombre Rosse, say these days the aperitivo of choice chez eux  is a “spritz” . which they make with white wine, soda and a splash of the orange-colored, non-alcoholic Aperol or the house aperitivo, a delicious concoction of orange juice, Campari and Aperol.

Looking around me, however, I see many people are, like Gloria, opting instead for a plain old glass of sparkling “Prosecco”, or have selected a Margherita or one of the more old-fashioned “aperitivi”, such as the improbably bright-yellow non-alcoholic Crodino. I myself go for the more traditional stuff. No Brazilian Caipirinhas or Cuban Mojitos for me. If I’m not worried about staying up late, I’ll choose a Negroni (vermouth, gin and Campari over ice) or else my alternative favourite, a Campari Bitter over ice with a slice of orange.

The idea of the aperitivo is supposed to be that of stimulating your appetite (although, you may ask, how many people visiting in Italy really need to make an effort to get their gastric motors going before dining) or, alternatively, breaking the ice (no pun intended) with one’s fellow diners before actually sitting down to a meal.

Some say the tradition goes back to ancient Roman times, but in more recent Italian times it’s appearance in generally traced to Turin in 1796 when Anronio Benedetto Carpano invented his vermouth drink, Carpano, later rebaptised “Punt e Mes” by Italian King Victor Emanuel II. Others insist the tradition is more Milanese, pointing to the fact that Milan is where the Ramazzotti brothers invented their “amaro”, mixing 33 herbs and roots in an alcohol base and where the Martini family came up with their vermouth drinks, first Martini bianco and then Martini dry.

Whatever the history, the aperitivo tradition is now back in full swing  especially because instead of the rather boring peanuts, pretzels and potato chips of yesterday, you are now more often than not offered a whole slew of nibbles to get your gastric juices in full working order.

At Ombre Rosse in Piazza S. Egidio in Trastevere, the buffet runs from 7p.m. to 9 p.m. You only pay for your drinks, but if you are feeling peckish you head for the bar where the counter holds dishes of cous-cous, tomato, celery and bean salads, small pizzette, salami, breads, carrots and celery sticks etc etc etc. And you can fill your plate as many times as you like.

Every cafè in Rome, of course has it’s own style and there are the more or less generous offerings at the very pricey Piazza Navona or the tourist-filled Piazza della Rotonda, facing the  magnificent nd century Pantheon, where – it should be remembered - you can combine your pre-dinner (or pre-lunch drink) with an important visual experience.

Some might like to join the insiders at Ciampini at Piazza in Lucina off the Corso or at one of the cafés in Piazza delle Coppelle, between the Pantheon and the Italian Senate. And if you prefer elegance, you can always decide to enjoy your aperitivo on the terraces of patios of luxury hotels such as the Raphael, the Minerva, the de Russie, the Eden or the Forum. And further a field, the Red Bar near the Auditorium, Rome’s symphonic orchestra hall charges 10 euros and provides enough hot snacks for a small army.

Read more about about Italy and life in Rome on Sari's own blog.

The diet (which I sorely need since I only have a couple of pairs of trousers I can now fit into) called for sugar-free Jello as a dessert substitute. But where in Rome was I going to find that? Then  I had a thought. “Could it be that Castroni has Jello, or something similar?” It sounded far-fetched but since the store, one of my favourites, has just about everything a foreigner would need or want, I jumped on my motorbike and scooted over to Via Cola di Rienzo 196-198,  in the heart of Rome’s Prati district to have a look.

Visitors to Rome or other parts of Italy often come here primarily to eat wonderful Italian food. But when you’ve lived in Italy for a long time, it often happens that you don’t want coffee and cornetti for breakfast you want pancakes with maple syrup. You crave herring in cream sauce and  not spaghetti carbonara for lunch. You want French country paté or tortilla chips with guacamole sauce. And instead of osso buco or saltimbocca alla romana you want to whip up an Indian curry or eat some other Indian entréé even if it means a prepared meal you heat up in the microwave.  Perhaps instead of Nutella you find yourself dreaming of Skippy’s peanut butter. And if TiramiSu is deliciously mind-blowing, what if you need a fix of dulce de leche or fig newtons, oatmeal cookies or, I am ashamed to admit it, a chocolate cake made from a Betty Crocker mix.

When you get these cravings, if you live in downtown Rome you go straight to Castroni where, almost anything is possible. In fact, most amazingly, I did find American Jello, a second, British variety made by Rowntrees, and even a sugar-free version by a companycalled Hartley’s. I guess to an extent I was lucky because, as Roberto Castroni told me, they’d only been stocking Jello among the store’s nearly 2000 imported products for the last couple of months. The store sells imported condiments and canned goods from most parts of the world, sushi and caviar, cookies and biscuits, crackers, teas, patès, sauces, rice (or rather rices), pasta, nuts, candies and coffee (there is a flourishing espresso bar inside AND a corner dedicated to torrefazione freshly-ground, as you like them, coffee beans from a variety of sources. Before Thanksgiving and Christmas, special tables are set up for specialty products that different groups of foreigners feel they simply cannot do without.

The Castronis – papà Marcello, sons Roberto and Fabrizio and brother-in-law Massimo – rely on a long-standing supplier in London to advise them about British and American products, and others in France, Germany, Scandinavia, Russia, the Philippines, and China – some of the roughly 20 countries from which they import.

There are several other Castronis in Rome, run by other branches of the family, but this is the biggest and the most central and the best stocked. The store exists since back in 1932 when it was a normal grocery. But in the 1960’s Marcello Castroni had a brilliant idea which turned out to be more than foresighted. He decided to stock his store– to satisfy Rome’s diplomatic community. Little did he know that starting in the 1980’s, Italy would see an unprecedented influx of foreigners from all parts of the globe. Fresh ethnic produce is available in and around the Piazza Vittorio market on the other side of town where many Africans and Asians shop. But those who live or work downtown or have a bit more disposable income know that most of those homesick cravings are best satisfied right here.

Go further: Is it Italian products you are looking for when in Rome, then read about when Meg got deliciously duped at Volpetti.

Restaurants are everywhere in Trastevere. And that’s not surprising since, traditionally, Romans have always come to this neighbourhood for dinner and nowadays the same goes for tourists, as one can tell from the fact that, increasingly, there are eating places in the area which are open from 12  noon to midnight so that visitors not interested in adopting Italian habits (unfortunately, a large number) can get a meal even at 4:30 in the afternoon.  But there are many restaurants that keep “Italian” hours: 12:30 to 3:30pm. 7:30p. m. to 11:30 and often they are the best.

La Botticella, which except for Wednesdays when it is closed, is open evenings (and for lunch as well on Sundays and holidays), has existed for some ten years now. But even though it is just around the corner from my apartment,  I had never heard of it until a  couple of years ago when a friend took me there and I was delighted enough with the food to make sure that I, who no longer eat out very often, go there every couple of months.

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The restaurant serves a mixture of Roman and Roman Jewish dishes that are, frankly scrumptious. The Jewish community in Rome is the oldest in the world outside of the Middle East and the cuisine (don’t think pastrami or bagels which come from Eastern Europe) has left its mark on that of Rome; today, in fact, the two are almost indistinguishable. I am a great artichoke fan, so for me it was a real plus to know that there was a place right near me which made excellent artichokes, Judean style (carciofi alla giudea), not to mention the deep-fried zucchine flowers and the mixed vegetable fry that includes golden nuggets of fried mozzarella.

The décor in the restaurant is slightly kitsch; red and white check tablecloths and a series of knick-knacks and pictures that you wouldn’t want to take home with you. But the food, yes. The possibly-too- ample “primi” or first courses whipped up by Giulia, the chef, are luscious. Even a photo of La Botticella’s bombolotti  with sausage and broccoli makes my mouth water. Giulia’s spaghetti carbonara and her white lasagne with pheasant and truffle make you feel you are in food heaven. Main courses include typical roman dishes such as saltimbocca alla romana, pollo con pepperoni (which by the way in Italy are bell peppers, not sausages) and abbacchio alla cacciatore.

And then there are the desserts, yum, all of which have an intriguing homemade look but whether we are talking about Roman cheesecake, crostata or chocolate cake with chestnuts, are simply sublime. And let me add that Giulia’s homemade biscotti are to die for.

Giulia, dark-haired, smiling and somewhat chunky, looks as Italian as one could imagine, but in effect she is Rumanian and has been in Italy for only six years. The kitchen, which most people never see, is tiny so it is clear that Giulia is something of a miracle worker. Ignore the enormous menu and for the best choices, ask what are the day’s specials. In addition, remember that three times a week Giulia is also available for cooking lessons (four people maximum).

LA BOTICELLA; Vicolo del Leopardo 39a, Roma