Time travel to 1919 in Rome
Gesturing to the beautiful case of pastries and sandwiches, I tried to pay a compliment.
“Roma é pericoloso!” I said to the barista in the tiny, elegant Sciascia Caffe in Rome. I was practicing my limited, present-tense-only Italian.
Technically, that was probably the wrong adjective ending, but the barista graciously overlooked it. Something in his face made me feel my words were a gauntlet thrown down on the cafe’s shining glass face.Â
The barista immediately took up the challenge and asked if I’d like an “affogato”. It was a hot day in Rome and a small ice cream coffee sounded like an excellent idea, so I agreed.
The show began: He scooped a huge round ball of vanilla ice cream into a porcelain cup and hollowed it out perfectly with the back of the scoop. Fresh, steaming espresso poured into the ice cream crater. He set the cup and saucer in front of me and turned to my husband. Would he like chocolate in his espresso machiato?
My husband consented and the barista held up a smaller porcelain cup and poured molten chocolate into it, tipping in the four compass directions to form an elegant chocolate flower. We oo-ed and ah-ed, the barista poured the espresso into the flower, topped it with a dollop of steamed milk, set it on the counter next to our jam-filled pastries and left us to it.
This vanilla ice cream is really good!
“This vanilla ice cream is really good,” I said, offering some to my husband. He agreed and we wondered what kind it was and if they made it there.
Above the counter were yellowed photos of the original owners. Standing at the glass counter with all the real Romans, we felt transported to 1919. The pattern of the floor tiles, the politically incorrect sugar packet bowl, the lighting, porcelain cups, the bright flavors–don’t forget the especially delicious vanilla ice cream–and the vests and white shirt uniforms of the baristas all contributed to the feeling of having stepped onto a set.
All that remained was knowing our lines!Â
When you buy something in a café in Italy, you are usually expected to order, consume your order, then go to the cashier, often on the opposite end, and tell the cashier what you had.Â
So I thanked the barista and went offer to the cashier. The barista called after me to say something that sounded French to me.
“Marseillese?” I said. The cashier didn’t like my wrong word, so I said “affogato” for ice cream coffee and “espresso machiato” and she rang it up and I paid.
I asked her what the French-sounding word meant.
The ice cream coffee “has Marsala wine added,” she said.
Mystery solved!
So if you go to the Sciascia Caffee in Rome and you want “excellent ice cream”, you know what to say.
Buon appetito!
If you go, tell my friend the barista, "pericoloso" from me!
I happen to know the word for dangerous in Italian, because it is very important in an episode about a hot water heater in Elizabeth von Arnim’s The Enchanted April, originally published in 1922. (In English.)
If you haven’t read it, or seen the equally enchanting movie, you’re in for a treat. It’s all about finding hope and light in Italy after a dark, rainy season in England.
Just up the street, the waiter is looking out for you. There’s a cool place for you inside . . .Â
Taking pride in your work can be fun 🙂
The cafe’s website has a few more interiors of the tiny cafe and photos of the beautiful coffees and pastries. And tells you that they have the best coffee in Rome.Â
But I will remember that moment of connection across cultures, when someone stepped up to gift me a tiny friendship.
Via Fabio Massimo n.80/a – Roma
Lynne Rae Perkins’ At Home in a Faraway Place gave me the idea of looking for “tiny friendships”.
It’s an excellent story, even if you aren’t taking your kids somewhere Spanish-speaking. If you are, of course, it’s absolutely perfect.
Don’t speak a foreign language? Or only know a few words? You can still connect to the locals and make special memories by trying something new and showing your appreciation. Lynne Rae Perkins book for ages 9 to 12 has the perfect name for this moment of connection: “tiny friendships”.
Her book, At Home in a Faraway Place, is a story about trying to learn a little of a new language (Spanish) and it also includes illustrations of words the main character is learning–so you get the feeling you are making your way in a new world too.
Because when we are dropped into a new place, we need friends, but we don’t have the words for a complicated friendship yet.
That’s why I love this idea of “tiny friendships”. You don’t even have to travel 🙂 to try it out.
Do you make tiny friendships too?