Bari to Fiumicino, and Thank You to Alessio
Final Schengen days are sad days. We had an early breakfast with Nicolò, said our goodbyes (I’d come back here in a heartbeat), and drove to the airport.
We had plenty of time, and made it to FCO and our hotel without much event.
Joe called an Uber, since the next shuttle was an hour’s wait. And that was the best choice of the day, because Alessio, our driver, is priceless.
We loaded up our suitcases into the van, and rode in relative silence for a few minutes, until we started speaking Italian with him and asking if he’s from Fiumicino. He is. Ok. On to food and dining questions. He got super excited after learning Joe’s background is half Calabrese, since that’s Alessio’s father’s region, and in fact they’re from the same area. “Cugini!” Joe exclaimed—they’re cousins!
Alessio directed us to two places. Flash forward; the supper place, L’Osteria DER Pajata, is closed Sunday evenings. Bummer. Because the place he recommended for lunch was where I had multiple foodgasms, and I expected the dinner place would top even that.
It has the very authentic Italian name of “Fish Take Away,” and is in a part of Fiumicino new to us. This is where everyone goes! Alessio told us that the Romans come here in Fiumicino to eat on the weekends. I can see why. There was a line of waiting diners winding out the door (here, and at other restaurants along the street). I didn’t know if the people in queue were indeed ordering take away fish, so I asked for a table for two. We were promptly told to go to the end of the line. Then, quickly after that, somehow (probably since it was just the two of us), we were pulled in ahead of the long line and shown to a cute little corner table.
And then the fun began.
Fiori di zucca, stuffed with mozzarella, anchovy, breaded and fried.
Salad of cuttlefish, carrot, and celery—that’s it—and bam! Fresh!
Joe had the local tuna (steak)
I had a small mountain of mussels and clams
Wine, fresh bread, happiness.
We recrossed the bridge to the lungomare, where we found the Darsena gelato place we’ve frequented in the past. Silky, good. I had the chocolato fondente with zabaione, and Joe had straight up dark chocolate.
Eating our gelato, strolling along the sea, we noticed crowds looking out toward the horizon. There was some sort of water racing course, and the speed boats (looked/acted like hydrofoils) were flying. They hovered above the water, touching down on a curve or two. I have no idea what they were doing, but it seemed to me like the Indy or some other racetrack where cars go in circles. I don’t understand the appeal of that… to me, it’s akin to checking out the washers at a laundromat. But this was on the sea and families were out to have fun and watch, or not watch, together. Lots of kids, laughter, rope swings, soccer, and gelato. I could spend an afternoon like that!
I needed to crash. In between really loud bouts of conversation from our American hotel neighbors, who gathered in the courtyard outside our door to smoke, I caught a couple of winks of sleep here and there.
As mentioned, the restaurant we preferred is closed Sunday evenings, so the desk clerk recommended Gastone, just town the street. I was in the mood for a simple Cacio e Pepe, but all they had was seafood (normally not a problem for me, but we’re in the land of Roman food). The Italian menus must state if the fish/seafood is previously frozen (which I won’t eat in Italy), and most of it was. But, luckily, they had puntarelle, which I love. I haven’t found it anywhere outside the Rome area. And this one came with calamaretti, so I got two of my favorite things in one. And Joe? Linguine with clams. A-gain. The guy knows what he likes.
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