Five Things You Need to Know About Eating in Italy

Consider it advice from a failure

Check out the sushi plate full of “Mexican rice.” Photo by Stacey Eskelin.

Eating annoys me. I say this only with the intention of being fully forthcoming with you, so you know exactly where I stand on the subject. If I could get away with not eating, I would totally do that. Food is expensive, you have to shop for it, and then you have to cook it, and these are three things I don’t like.

Here’s a short but by no means comprehensive list of other things people like that I find abhorrent: alcohol, parties, retail anything, weddings, selfies, network TV, gender reveal parties, celebrities, royals, jewelry, designer clothing, and J.R.R. Tolkien.

But ya gotta eat. And if you’re in Italy, ya gotta eat as much as you can, because you’re never going to find food this delicious in the States. Not every restaurant offers top-quality fare, so how do you know a good place from a bad one?

1. Eat Italian food cooked by actual Italians. I know this seems self-evident, but let me tell you a little story about what happened when John and I went out to eat last week. See, here’s the thing. In Italy, all the food is Italian. 365 days a year: Italian. Don’t get me wrong—even with my annoying gluten allergy, I love Italian food. But sometimes, especially as an American, and double extra especially as a Texan who’s had some first-rate Tex-Mex, you get a hankering for food that isn’t Italian. And that’s why when we found “una cucina messicana,” a Mexican kitchen, in our neighboring town of Terni, we drove right over.

   It wasn’t just godawful; it was inedible. And that’s a generous assessment. We have only ourselves to blame. Rule #1: ethnic food should probably be made by people of that ethnicity. We knew this. In Rome, we don’t go into pizza parlors run by Arabs, Turks, or Pakistanis. No offense intended toward Arabs, Turks, and Pakistanis, of course. It’s not a nationalist thing. As an American, I wouldn’t trust myself to cook Pakistani food, just as I know Pakistanis, Turks, and Arabs have their own take on Italian food that isn’t necessarily the one I came to Italy for. When I want pizza, I go where Italians make the pizza. When I want a kebab, I go where Turks make the kebab. And when I want Mexican food, I’m sh**t outta luck because there’s maybe one Mexican kitchen run by Mexicans, and it’s on the other side of Rome.

   

   These are chicken fajitas? Seriously? Photo by Stacey Eskelin.

   Let me also say that there are many wonderful Italian restaurants owned by Italians that employ sous chefs of other nationalities. These are perfectly fine. Anyone can cook, and anyone can be taught to cook.

   Except me. I’m a lost cause.

   Our “Mexican” meal? The nachos weren’t made in-house. They came off a supermarket shelf. Same with the guacamole, which reeked of garlic and had the same slimy consistency as the head of lettuce left in the back of your fridge. The cheese wasn’t Italian or Mexican; instead, it was a tasteless, spreadable orangey substance that came out of a jar. “Mexican rice,” as you can see in this photo, was white and parboiled, served on a sushi dish, and this portion was supposed to be enough for the two of us.

   Placing a skull head full of chopped greens on the table does not a Mexican meal make. Our fajitas? Some kind of quasi-Indian goulash of boiled, not grilled, meat, floating in a curry sauce. We couldn’t wait to get out of there.

2. If the menu’s in English, run. Otherwise known as a tourist menu, the sandwich board outside, usually in highly eccentric English or any of five other languages, is a dead giveaway that the food inside is going to be substandard. Don’t eat there. You are much better off going to an authentic Italian restaurant and using the Google Translate feature on your phone to parse through the menu. Tourist restaurants charge you more for less. It’s all checkered tablecloths and drippy candles stuck in the necks of a raffia-bottomed wine bottles. These tourist traps usually serve hamburgers as well as fettuccini alfredo because that’s what they think you want. Surprise Italian waiters by asking for, and eating, real Italian food. Don’t go to McDonald’s. Don’t so much as glance at the stupid Starbucks by the Vatican. Take your coffee at a real Italian bar, and eat your meals in a real Italian restaurant. Play it safe, and you are depriving yourself of one of the true glories of Italy, which is its food.

   

   Vice photo of a tourist menu.

3. Don’t judge a trattoria by its cover. Some of the best food I’ve had in Italy didn’t come out of a restaurant listed in the Zagat’s guide. It came out of very ordinary-looking eateries with scuffed white walls, unromantic LED lighting, and shabby, butt-sprung chairs. I defy you to discover better food than the humble trattoria in Rome’s Torpignatarra neighborhood called Da Francesco. My God. The caccio e pepe alone is worth the flight over here.

   Quite often, you will find the same four or five photos of Italian actors from the fifties and sixties hung on the walls of truly scrumptious restaurants. If you see framed photos of comedic actors like Totò, Alberto Sordi, even the ever-lovely Sophia Loren, you’re probably in good hands.

   

   Seeing a photo of Alberto Sordi is as good as a four star rating.

   

   Totò’s letting you know the spaghetti is REALLY good.

   

   National treasure and true Italian beauty Sophia Loren who ain’t afraid of no pasta. Go, girl!

   Here’s a clip from Un Americano a Roma, where the great comedian Totò decides to eat like an American … and winds up spitting out the food and digging into a plate of spaghetti instead.

4. Bars that masquerade as restaurants. You will know them by the menu in five languages and the buttadentro waiters, waiters that stand outside soliciting your business. Buttadentro literally means to throw someone or something inside, which is how you’re going to feel if you allow yourself to be badgered into eating in one of these subpar dining establishments. If you prefer making decisions based on consumer reviews, look for consumer reviews by Italians. Your average tourist is clueless and wishes only to appear sophisticated enough to leave a review. Such offerings are not to be trusted. Go where the Italians go. Eat as the Italians eat. Do as the Italians do.

   

   Dissapore photo of a buttadentro waiter.

5. In Italy, salad isn’t an appetizer. Here, in order of food course sequence, it’s antipasto, primo, secondo, contorno, dolce. An antipasto might consist of a selection of cheese, olives and sliced meats. A primo might be any type of pasta dish. A secondo is a meat dish. A contorno would be the salad or any kind of vegetable, including roasted potatoes. And dolce—well, you know what that is. And yes, it’s delicious.

   

   Pasticciotto. Are you worthy?

   What have you eaten in Italy that you just adored? Be sure to leave your comments below.