Toilet Equipment, and La Scoperta del Giorno

The latest in the now-and-then RST feature, La Scoperta del Giorno (the discovery of the day or, better put in English, Today’s Discovery). The Italian word “scoperta,” and its English equivalent, “discovery,” are similarly constructed; each is based on the verb “to cover” (coprire/to cover) and each is converted into “uncover” or “discover” with a prefix (the “s” in Italian, the “dis” in English).

We reported on gentrification in 2019, and one of the neighborhoods we included was Quadraro, which occupies both sides of Via Tuscolana just south of the Porta Furba Metro stop on the A line. Quadraro made some sense as a locus of anti-gentrification sentiment, because it's a leftist, working-class neighborhood, while also being one of several Rome street art/murales centers, and hence associated with artistic elites.

That said, Tuscolano to Quadraro's south had always seemed to us relentlessly middle-class, impervious to gentrification. Until yesterday, when, window shopping, we were shocked to realize that we could have walked into a store in the heart of Tuscolano and come out with a $400 toilet brush! 

                    And that's La Scoperta del Giorno for an afternoon in October, 2025!

The Orecchiette Wars and the Search for Authenticity

Made in Italy is a label that still attracts attention, and buyers. Italy has been very protective of its country’s indigenous food products, and we’re not talking just wine here.

A recent article on the front page of a daily Rome newspaper, Il Messaggero, brought this point home to us as it proclaimed that the authenticity of orecchiette, the “little ear” pasta form, was at risk. Orecchiette, as we learned, should be a product of Puglia. Moreover, the “nonne della pasta” (“pasta grandmothers”) of the region are accused of making it only partly by hand—"ma loro negano”—“they deny it.”

In Bari, according to the Messaggero article, which was based on a UK Guardian article, there’s been a “blitz” of authorities going after the pasta makers. I like the Guardian headline: “Barricades in Bari: why the city’s ‘pasta grannies’ are under scrutiny. Sellers of fresh orecchiette in southern Italy are fighting back after being accused of tricking tourists with bought wares.”

The blitz, which started in January and has continued, includes the local prosecutor, the local police, the national Guardia di Finanza (tax police), and the Carabinieri (national police force). Says the Guardian, “Authorities said the most conspicuous evidence was piles of cardboard boxes for factory-made pasta found dumped in wheelie bins on the outskirts of the old town.”

The full article on the inside of Il Messaggero started with a typical—and enticing—yellow journalism approach:

“Not everything that ends up on your plate is truly Italian. From Parmigiano Dop* that hides foreign milk, to wine labeled from Tuscany but produced elsewhere to mozzarella ‘made by hand: sold as ‘artigianale’: the risk of being cheated is around every corner, and it doesn’t hit just tourists. Olives, salami, dried tomatoes, fresh pasta. The “made in Italy” label at times is corrupted by deceptive brand labelling, in stores in the center of Rome that are tourist traps, and on packages both in windows and on tables. And the case of the ‘orecchiette wars’ in the oldtown of Bari [in Puglia] is just one vivid example.”

The full newspaper page, which had an overall headline of “Add Doubt to the Table,” also featured wine from Pantelleria (an Italian island about halfway between Sicily and Tunisia) that was in fact made in Germany. And a third piece on adulteration of cheese products—Mozzarella and scamorza in Barletta (also in Puglia)—another blitz by Carabinieri, in this case specifically by their Nas division. We were unaware of this division of the national police force (we knew about their division that finds stolen art, and have appreciated and written about it). Nas, or Nucleo Antisofisticazioni Sanità, is the department of the Carabinieri responsible for controls of foodstuff, drinks, medicine etc. from adulteration, impurities, and fraudulent labelling. We couldn’t tell whether the Nas division of the Carabinieri was involved in the orecchiette wars, but they were involved in this cheese product adulteration.

It seems the cautionary tale is to watch what you eat, or don’t believe everything you’re told. It would be hard for the Italian authorities to keep up with the counterfeit products, we think. That won’t stop us from eating what we like here in Rome. Though maybe we’ll pay more attention to the recommendations of food experts like Katie Parla. Unfortunately, learning about these scams, while entertaining, adds a bit of cynicism to the table. 

Dianne 

*”DOP stands for Denominazione di Origine Protetta (literally “Protected Designation of Origin”). As the the name suggests, this certification ensures that products are locally grown and packaged.” Walks in Italy, a tour provider with a rich website, has a good piece on Dop here. (Italians tend not to use upper case for all the letters in their acronyms.)

La Scoperta del Giorno (Today's Discovery): Inside a Nasone

 

La Scoperta del Giorno (Today’s Discovery): Inside a Nasone

Today we’re launching a new (and not daily) RST feature: La Scoperta del Giorno (the discovery of the day or, better put in English, Today’s Discovery). The Italian word “scoperta,” and its English equivalent, “discovery,” are similarly constructed; each is based on the verb “to cover” (coprire/to cover) and each is converted into “uncover” or
“discover” with a prefix (the “s” in Italian, the “dis” in English).

The big event of September 20 was a huge pro-Palestine demonstration starting in Piazza dei Cinquecento in front of Stazione Termini, which we attended along with about 50,000 other people. But La Scoperta of that day took place about an hour after the “manifestazione” had left Termini to proceed through the city to the university. We were not part of the ongoing march, but headed home on foot, through Piazza Vittorio, where we took a break for a coffee at a sidewalk bar just outside the Piazza. There, sitting at a table, we could see dozens of those who had been at the demonstration—or were still part of the ongoing march—pouring out the gate of Piazza Vittorio and heading for a nearby nasone (one of thousands of “big nose” water fountains in Rome, most of them flowing constantly) to have a drink and fill up their water bottles.

 

The line was long, because a second nearby nasone wasn’t working. Then a man reached inside the top of the non-functioning fountain and, within no time, it was working! How did he do it?

By inspecting other nasoni, we soon learned that some but not all of them have a handle inside that turns the water on and off. 

The handles were likely installed in 2017 during a severe drought when more than 2,000 of the nasoni were “turned off.” Since the handle revelation, we have often tried, usually without success, to remove the cover to access the handle—or just to see if there was one. Here's a nasone without a handle:

Most of the covers appear to be fixed—that is, not easily removable by a passer-by. It looks like one needs a special round tool with a triangular interface to get the cover off.

Some nasoni have handles to turn the water on and off! That’s La Scoperta del Giorno for September 20, 2025.

Bill 

 

An Evening in Rome. Best-laid plans, and all that....

What do you do in Rome? As a friend once said, “you walk out the door.” So true, though these days we often walk out the door with a plan. Sometimes things go “according to plan” and sometimes, especially in Rome, they don’t. This is the story of one of those days—an evening, to be precise. With a “lieto” (happy) ending.

Our day began, as usual, at our coffee bar of choice, based on a couple of good experiences we had had there over the past two days, including one just the day before, when we had enjoyed a couple of Campari “Spritz” in the cool night air. The bar, on Via Pomezia at Via Cerveteri, is Bar Anima Nera (Black Soul), though we call it the "Mad Hatter," after the fine drawings that grace the inside walls. The structure in front of the bar is on most days a vegetable stand.

A chilly morning drove us inside, pleasant enough with our daily newspaper (“Il Messaggero”) but when we went to pay the new Italian guy got the price of our caffè Americani wrong (E2.50 rather than the customary E1.50), and another new Italian guy served us our cornetto with a cough. Perhaps a harbinger of things to come.

Our mid-day adventure—a Metro A excursion to Aurelia and Prati to see a couple of closed edicole (newsstands) worked out fine. After doing some work at home in our rented apartment at Piazza dei Re di Roma, our plan was to take the Metro to Piazza Repubblica and a 64 (or 40) bus to Chiesa Nuova for an opening at Maja Arte Contemporanea, via di Monserrato 20, then tack to nearby Bar Peru, a favorite of ours in years past, for an aperitivo and cena—apericena, a one-price drink and plate of good food selected from a variety of prepared dishes available at the bar.

The opening was well attended and the wine (a Ribolla Gialla) was nice, but the art, while colorful and organic in a Victorian sort of way, was not of the sort to invite our serious consideration.

After a few minutes, we departed for Bar Peru.

Lo and behold, Bar Peru had, so it seemed, changed hands and look. The stools on the street were gone (maybe the police objected), replaced by tables across the street in the piazza. Inside, there was no apericena to be had.

We ordered two Campari “Spritz,” took a raised table inside, and lamented the changes. The new ownership appeared to be Asian.

The Spritz were excellent (the bar is amply supplied with Campari), the bartender terrific, and we enjoyed the chips and the peanuts in a Depero Campari & soda bottle. But what to do now, early in the evening. Via Giulia was just a block away, toward the Tevere, and we headed there, not knowing what we’d find. The street was dark and mostly quiet. The Accademia of Hungary in Rome, in a palazzo designed by Borromini mid-17th century and one of our favorite places, was open, and a sign mentioned a concert of piano, violin and flute. “First floor,” said the bored attendant, and up the stone stairs we went, just as the flautist was wrapping up the first performance. We took seats and for 45 minutes were thoroughly entertained by a remarkable 24-year-old woman violinist (Ludovica Mastrostefano) and her equally compelling piano accompanist (Sara Damiani). Popular Romanian tunes by Béla Bartók; Sonata n.3 by Edvard Grieg. Delightful!

So far so good. Afterwards, Dianne wanted to eat, Bill to drink, and we settled on Il Goccetto, our favorite wine bar (on nearby via dei Banchi Vecchi), which has both. It was absolutely full, spilling out onto the street (as it usually does). Disappointed, we left. Checked some other places, then decided (it was about 8:30) to head home. Caught the 64 bus (the "watch your wallet" bus) on Corso Vittorio Emanuele II. A man on the bus warned a tourist with luggage that a sciopero (a strike) of some transport services had already begun. Rumor was that the subway wouldn’t run after 9 p.m. We thought he was wrong. We ended up near the controversial Pope John Paul II statue/sculpture in Piazza dei Cinquecento, where a small ProPal (pro-Palestinian) protest was going on. 

Walked toward the lit-up Termini station, avoiding the buses. Found 5 clustered Carabinieri (state police) just outside the station, and we inquired, in Italian, if there was a strike going on at that moment. Yes, said one of them, a woman, authoritatively. The Metro (the subway), she added, was not running.

What to do? Dianne’s app said it was a 40-minute walk to our Re di Roma digs, and, having done the walk just the other day, we headed off on foot, down Via Cavour and into the piazza behind Santa Maria Maggiore, soon coming upon a Metro entrance. The electronic signed warned that service was "non garantite," but people were entering, and so we did.

Below, at the turnstiles of the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele stop, we asked a woman employee if there was service in our direction. Before she could answer she scurried away to deter several people whom she deemed not to have paid. We decided to give it a try. The train came. We took it. Finally secure at home, and having reached 19,000 steps (about 8 miles) for the day, we relished a plate of cold cuts and cheeses and a bottle of Circeo doc, as Bill called it, in our cozy living room, excited at having “sopravissuti” (survived) and had such an exhilarating time doing it. What do you do in Rome? Walk out the door!

Bill

PS from Dianne: Sometimes you get what you need.

Food Truck Fairs in Rome

 

What's not to love about olive offerings from... an olive?

While haunting the near-in suburban area of Tiburtina, off via Tiburtina. we saw signs one day for what looked like an upcoming food fair in Casal Bruciato, part of that area. Besides the neighborhood's memorable name ("burned farmhouse"), the idea of a suburban food fair, far from tourists, appealed to us.

We got there a bit early, before the crowds started to build, and had our pick of food.

Above, the '70s housing some would decry, looming over a few of the 30 or so food stands, offering everything from Mexican food (far right) to grilled almost anything (the arrosticino stand at left).

We delved into some reasonably-priced carciofi alla giudia (Jewish artichokes, one of our favorite Roman foods), complete with sangria from the Mexican stand--probably not a combination of which Romans would approve.

The early fair-goers were mainly families with children, even in the shadow of the beer tents ("Birra Crudo") and cocktail bars ("Aperi-time" - their shelves lined with colorful bottles of Campari and Aperol).

The most prominent advertising was on the porta-potties (photo below): TTS Food ("Hey you, get a move on, the food is waiting"...."Your order is ready...don't take too long."

Only in doing research for this post (yes, even food fairs and Casal Bruciato require some research) did we learn "TTS Food" stands for "Typical Truck Street Food." The enterprise is active all around Rome and its environs and has a schedule. This summer they were in a dozen Rome neighborhoods, including Garbatella, Monteverde, and Trastevere. (Website here.)

Although we didn't stay for the music (see below), we will next time. It is just a pleasure enjoying  Italian food with real Italians - far from the tourists (I wonder how it all works in Trastevere?).

Right, a trumpeter setting up.

Left, arrosticini on the grill - we had some of these too.

The BBQ stand, right, seems to have an identity problem - American or Italian?

Left, pasta in a cup - with the Roman classics.

Right, grilled octopus (or pizza if you are less adventurous).

Left, catching the bus back - never far from Giorgia Meloni.

Dianne