torrid and you’ve just gotten off a budget airline flight. It’s even better when joined
by its most lethal bedfellows; sweet vermouth and gin to make a negroni and you
are gazing semi pie-eyed over the rooftops of Rome on a romantic bank holiday
weekend. For my companion, who is feeling under the weather and struggling with a
cold, we discover yet another merit of the classic aperitif, in that it acts as an effective
decongestant. We are now somewhat ready to play.
For the impecunious hedonist with a commitment to style, there are few better
places to stay and do just this, than the Hotel Adriano (www.hoteladriano.com)
whose centrality a few pulses from the Pantheon and pretty roof terrace are hard
to beat. Interiors are chic and simple and there’s always a buzz and a game of
chess taking place in the lobby. Fuelled by the added negroni buzz we jump on
some classic, one-gear bikes (provided by the hotel) and chance the cobbles and
our orthopaedic hopes. History, predictably, is all around in the Eternal City, and
directly opposite our abode is Obikà, (www.obika.it) which makes great claims
for being ‘history’s first mozzarella bar’. I warn my dear congested companion that
too much dairy can create more mucus, but he is happy to take the risk upon sight
of the seductive white balls. We gorge ourselves on a selection of ‘rotoli’; sliced
and rolled mozzarella stuffed with savoury fillings ranging from smoked salmon to
artichokes.
Maybe I’m an ageing hedonist who likes predictable pleasures but I still
love the unbridled loveliness of knocking back a couple of glasses of prosecco
in the Hotel de Russie courtyard (www.hotelderussie.it); a site perfect for
concocting lurid fantasies of how to make tons of cash to eventually spend every
day there. From there it’s a stones throw (or a wobbly bike ride) to the Hotel
Locarno (www.hotellocarno.com), a perennial Roman favourite which now has
a reinvigorated fashion scene in the Art Deco lounge bar. I wear my favourite dress
du jour, a Marlene Dietrich style floor-length gown, and, feeling like the glamorous
protagonist of a 1930s whodunit, I throw back a textbook negroni. My companion’s
experienced eye tells him at this point that if I do not eat a proper meal, and pronto, I
will start to become, hmmm, “come si dice ‘bit of a nightmare?’”
And so, we leave the bici and shimmy over to Testaccio,
former meat-packing district and Rome’s main hedonistic artery
which runs from Via Galvani to Via Monte de Testaccio. We settle in
at Angelina (www.ristorantenagelina.com), which manages to take ironic inspiration
from Angelina Jolie (no, seriously, look at their flyers for the aperitivo parties) while
still maintaining stylish integrity and pulling off something of an up tempo Shoreditch
house feel- all stripped wood, ceramic topped tables and elegant shades of white and
grey in the airy vaulted interior, while butchers' placards adorn the tiled walls.
Maybe Ange’s famed penchant for wearing vials of her lover’s blood strikes
accord with the neighbourhood’s gory history; until 1975 Testaccio was home to
Europe's largest slaughterhouse, and has now become the bleeding heart of the city's
contemporary art scene. Attractive crowds fresh from the ROMA art fair in the new
space at Macro Museo -the macabre ex- abbatoir across the road- jostle with fashion
mavens and the odd reality TV star.
In a part of town once famous for offal oriented dishes such as pajata (veal
intestines clinging together in their own imbibed milk) it’s a relief that there are
some less visceral dishes on offer such as cacio e pepe; an immensely satisfying and
simple dish of pasta drenched in pecorino cheese and lots of black pepper. A modern
presentation of a romana classic. For the carnivorous at heart there's a fine array of
high quality Danish and Texan grilled meats to choose from.Yee-haw! We make a
pact to try and return for the terminally chic Sunday brunch tomorrow on the terrace
Engines stoked on red meat, negronis and wine we scoot up the past
the traffic stained antique pyramid monument that marks the beginning of Ostiense;
an area that is ubiquitously gritty and industrial and therefore inimitably cool with
various projects by trendy architect Rem Koolhaus underway. It must be said that for
me, Italian clubs have always left a little to be desired, but the cream is
probably Goa (06 574 8277, Via Libetta) which attracts a convincing clutch of
international DJS and that unmistakable brand of electronic Euro with a touch of the
Balearic. Nadal chested men in singlets pump the air and more arty musos bob their
heads in appreciation over punchy cocktails. Being teenagers of the rave inspired 90s
we throw ourselves into enjoying the twisted electro churned out by a sound system
which is as punishing as any you might find in the old super-clubs of UK
yore. Perhaps I don’t dance with gusto to all things electro so much these
days but whether my all over aches can be put down to throwing shapes, cycling on
cobbles, or don’t tell me, the negroni diet, by the following morning I’m more than
ready for a massage in the darkened cocoon like rooms at new sybaritic
spa Kaami (www.kamispa.com) near Piazza Barberini, before a restorative long lunch
of cheeses, cold meats, wine and miniature portions of lasagne at Cul De Sac, a little
enoteca off the Piazza Navona that really can cure all
ills.(www.enotecaculdesac.com). We settle in next to a table of international jeunesse
doree who are having a boozy discussion in three languages and watch the passeggiata
pack amble by, just enough time for our stomachs to settle before gobbling down a
gelato at dreamy spot Gelateria del Teatro (Via S.Simone, 06 45474880) just off Via
dei Coronari where the intense, 75% cocoa cioccolato puro and organic concoctions
and gluten free cones knock the socks off the standard tourist traps such as Giolitti.
Back on the bikes to burn off some of this calorific creaminess- but we don't
get very far- seduced by the setting sun on the warm cobbles around the
Pantheon and because we are greedy hedonists in love, we ignore the tourist
trash and share a plate of perfect tonnarelli alla carbonara at old favourite
Maccheroni (www.ristorantemaccheroni.com)back in centro storico. Viva Roma!
