What I am about to tell you is by no means a fair indication of my character. It is a tale of betrayal, but let me assure you the stakes were high.
I was in Rome for a week to interview the actors Helen Mirren and Vin Diesel. And I did what I always do when I travel, which is to seek the advice of people who have the best taste, then try to distil it into the time I have in whatever city I’m in.
My friend Harrison has exquisite taste. He always knows the best clubs and restaurants. He is the sort of person who wears a polka-dotted jumpsuit to go skiing and those bright red-jelly Birkenstocks. So, when he told me what to do in Rome, I listened. He specifically said the carbonara at Roscioli is life-changing. And who am I to deny myself and my colleagues the opportunity to change our lives?
The recommendation came with a warning though: it would be almost impossible to get a reservation. Sometimes they let you in if you line up, but even then, it can be a two-hour wait. I shared that information with my colleagues, and we trekked across Rome – through the crowds, past the Trevi Fountain, down cobblestone lanes in the heat until we finally arrived about half an hour before the restaurant was to open for lunch.
As opening time drew closer, the line grew exponentially. By the time 12 o’clock rolled around it was like a mosh pit, with everyone looking jittery, waiting for their fix. Then, a lady emerged with a clipboard. She approached her job with the sort of seriousness and military efficiency that I imagine would’ve been useful at Checkpoint Charlie before the Berlin Wall came down. I watched her inviting people in, striking names off a list and telling others to go away. I saw another woman standing close to us who was travelling on her own and hoping, like us, to snare a table and taste this life-changing carbonara.
My heart was beating faster (for pasta) but would all of this sneakiness be for nil?
We got to the front of the line and said, “Please, can we have a table? We’ll sit anywhere. Please!” The woman took a look at us and said, “No, sorry.” We tried to bargain with her and told her we’d wait around. But again, she told us, “No. There’s nothing available and there won’t be.”
But what of the woman on her own? She went through the same process as us. She also didn’t have a booking, but she did manage to get in. I banked the information and left. I didn’t say anything to my colleagues, but wondered if the door supervisor had a soft spot for solo female travellers.
The next day I decided to go on a mission. To betray my colleagues and go it alone. When in Rome … And who knows if or when I’ll ever be back here. If revenge is a dish best served cold, then betrayal tastes like crispy guanciale tossed through pasta, egg and cheese.
Once I reached Roscioli, I could see people assembling, the crowd growing more and more tense as it got closer to midday. Finally, it was my turn.
My heart was beating faster (for pasta) but would all of this sneakiness be for nil? “Hello, just a table for one and I don’t have a booking.”
I was right. The woman let me in. I was sat at a table on my own but it would have accommodated three people, so I don’t know what rules she was playing by. Let’s chalk it up as a win for the single ladies.
The pasta was incredible, the guanciale crispy and salty. There was also some parmigiano reggiano and egg and just a little bit of pepper – that’s it.
While eating, I was reading a book of essays by Jonathan Franzen. There was one in particular about his father losing his memory and eventually his life, and I thought about how easily things can go wrong. Even if you’re careful, bad things still happen.
Then it hit me, like a moment of grace – the beautiful pasta, a work trip to Rome, the smarts and wherewithal to get myself across a foreign city. I felt immense and total gratitude for everything that had ever happened and would ever happen because every event until that point had led me to this perfect moment.
Harrison, with his bright-red shoes and his polka-dotted jumpsuit for skiing, was absolutely right. It is life-changing pasta.
Living cautiously can’t protect you from everything. Occasionally, you must do what must be done in pursuit of living. And occasionally that can mean going on a stealth mission through Rome, putting at risk an appointment to interview Vin Diesel while betraying your friends, and all for a bowl of pasta.
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