Eataly all you can

MANILA, Philippines - Spaghetti, pizza and I go way back. Attending kid parties as a toddler meant inevitable encounters with chafing dishes of overcooked spaghetti, and stacks of cardboard pizza boxes. By the third grade, this was my only knowledge of what Italian food was all about, unusually sweet red sauce, and thick-crusted bread topped by cold and rubbery mozzarella. My first trip to Italy, Rome and Florence specifically, back in ’99 was where my nine-year-old self’s notion of Italian cuisine was obliterated magnificently, and where my fascination with food began. Fourteen years since, a few cheap eats — and maybe a couple worth the extra euros — have made it as markers for where my epicurean love affair manifests.

To market, to market

To get a taste of a country’s culture, in its purest and most sincere form, visit the nearest market. Early into the day, Campo de’ Fiori would play host to a crowd of white canopies, housing everything from freshly picked vegetables and fruits, bags of pasta, vials of limoncello, and gorgeous logs of salami. Vendors of each stall play quite gracious hosts, offering samples of practically anything on their table. Freshly squeezed orange juice, a pack of sliced salami, and a bag of salted macadamia nuts make good companions when making tracks around the market.

Worth the buzz

Starbucks doesn’t exist in Italy. Rightly so, as not even the biggest coffee chain in the world can overthrow the driving force that is the Italian espresso (get it right, folks, “expresso” may as well be an insult). Since the espresso hails from Italian descent, it goes without saying that any bar and coffee shop in town will provide a quality cup. Disputing coffee shop culture — ordering a brew, setting up shop with a laptop, staying a good three hours or so — the way to drink your cup is by standing at the bar, cups and spoons banging musically on the countertop, and consuming the shot in nothing more than a few gulps. Then leave. It was a drink made for those on the go. Also, having it at the bar is much cheaper than having it at your own table.

You go, gelato

Walk down any via, street, or strada and you’re guaranteed to run into at least one gelateria. My mecca, however, is the Gelateria Della Palma (Via della Maddalena, Rome), which is a room piped by a full line of chillers holding tubs upon tubs of gelato. Kids can keep their candy store, I’ll take this thanks. The classic triad of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla are available, of course, but there are fantastic flavors like nutella mascarpone, pear and cheese, roasted pistachio with hazelnuts, chocolate with amaretto, Mars chocolate, and even champagne. Literally, there are more than a hundred flavors to choose from.

When in Rome

Almost every Italian restaurant in Manila has a pasta fettuccine Alfredo on the menu. But however you recall that dish tasting like, just forget it. No pasta Alfredo dish can be experienced at its prime, other than at its birthplace in Rome’s Ristorante Alfredo (Piazza Augusto Imperatore, 30 Rome). Putting to shame all white sauces doused with cream, bacon grease, and flecks of cheese, the staple dish at Alfredo makes use of just three things: fettuccine, butter and Parmigiano Reggiano. (Trivia: Though most people think parmesan and parmigiano are synonymous, the latter is sourced solely from the Italian province of Reggio Emilia.) The platter of fettuccine is presented in parts, and assembled right in front of you; on the steaming hair of pasta, the server throws in chunks of butter, and a heap of parmigiano, then mixes everything together. It seems quite simple, really, but no one outside their little nook has quite gotten the right taste and consistency. When Federico Fellini professed that life was a combination of magic and pasta, it wouldn’t come as a surprise if it were Alfredo he had in mind.

When the moon hits your eye

You’d be a shmuck to set foot on Italian soil without having a slice, or five, of pizza. As opposed to the circle of dense bread covered with dried herbs, processed pepperoni (sometimes even a scarcity of it), and processed mozzarella, pizza there sits on a crisp base of bread. On top, there are savagely generous sheets of prosciutto, freshly chopped herbs, and the sweetest tomatoes you will every hope to devour. At the Pizzarium (Via della Meloria, 43, Rome), one pizza is topped with stunningly tangerine slices of smoked salmon and knobs of fresh mozzarella di bufala. As with any other pizzeria around, orders are priced by weight and not by slice.

La Dolce

Somewhere on the walk between Piazza Navona and Campo de’ Fiori, is a bakeshop called Il Fornaio (Via dei Baullari), which spills a stream of Italy’s best baked goods and sweets. There are trays of marrons glacés as big as ping-pong balls, and rolls of bread that are seemingly ordinary, yet wondrously warm and tender. There are cakes, and cups of tiramisu, but there are also rows of cannoli. Take your cue from The Godfather and please, take the cannoli.