Fiaschetteria Marini, 7/11 Via Raffaele Cadorna

One of the finest and certainly the cheapest meals we enjoyed in Rome was at the Fiaschetteria Marini, located on the terse Via R. Cadorna, which emanates from the very pretty Piazza Sallustio in the Sallustiano neighborhood, north of Piazza della Repubblica & Termini station. Besides its proximity to these, it is only a ten-to-fifteen minute walk from the Galleria Borghese, which is truly one of the finest museums in Rome. And unlike the walk from Piazza Barberini, which it is also near, the walk to Marini from the Museo is downhill. In other words, it makes a perfect repast after feasting on sumptuous Bernini masterpieces at the Galleria, so please avoid the dull coffee and limp tramezzeni at the caffe and stretch your muscles with an appetite-building stroll through this typical, busy neighborhood of the upper Quirinale.

Your wallet and your stomach will both love you for it. At about €15 per person for a more-than-ample meal with primi, secondi & contorni, this was by far the least expensive sit-down meal we've eaten in Rome. And though "fiaschetteria" technically means wineshop, we did not have any wine with our lunch, instead plowing through a couple of bottles of water, which seemed in keeping with what everyone else was doing. A simple, bottle-lined dining space with ancient but not uncomfortable wooden chairs, Marini has the turnover of a midtown Manhattan diner during lunch rush, feeding local office workers on break (though it must be said, this is a Roman lunch break, so it lasts quite a bit longer than one of ours). The food came to us Tex-Mex quick, with friendly but unadorned service. Not, perhaps, the place to take a date. Unless, of course, you already know for sure your date is totally awesome and his/her idea of a killer time is chowing on cucina tipica in humble, hand-cobbled surroundings, sucking up veal marrow and shoveling down bitter greens while ensconced in the chaos of a bustling, workaday Roman lunch, rattling along to the noise of a hundred or so hungry locals laughing, chatting and shuffling copies of Il Messagero while happily tucking in.

But on to this amazing lunch! I mean, I really wish we'd stopped and taken pictures, but we were honestly too busy driving it in to even think of it. Don't let the emphasis on cheapness and typical fare and what-have-you have you believing for one second this was anything less than outstanding food, perfectly cooked. We came to Marini on a Thursday, the day set aside in the informal Roman weekly schedule for gnocchi al sugo, potato gnocchi in a tomato sauce served with grated pecorino, so we were sure to order a couple servings. The gnocchi were perfectly chewy, the sauce simple yet elegant. The other primi were equally good, including a baked timballo di penne, crusty on top and dotted with tender veggies and a heartening bowl of local brown lentils cooked with tubetti pasta, the dish which above all else seemed to banish the cold and dampness that seemed to haunt us this trip.

Most guidebooks will be eager to tell you that the secondi, what we would call mains, are the least stimulating portion of the local cuisine, with the exception perhaps of seasonal suckling lamb or a really good saltimbocca alla Romana. Well, most guidebook writers really ought to head out to Fiaschetteria Marini, because these secondi were nothing less than ass-kicking. We arrived a bit before 13:00, but the ravioli primi, Puglia-style zucchini and salsicce arrosto con patate al forno (my mouth waters just typing those words, I can only dream of what it would have actually tasted like) were already sold out. We managed to score the last order of bollito, a solid cut of steak boiled until tender but not flavorless, served with yellow potatoes sprinkled with parsley and an excellent salsa verde, the typical northern & central Italian sauce of green herbs macerated with capers, onion and lemon. This was an honest but refined take on a dish that belied most descriptions I've read, in which it materializes as the ex-pat's worst nightmare of boiled, funky mystery meat served cold and topped with a watery, indistinct parsley sauce. Like I said, we got the last bit. A pork braciola was expertly grilled, seasoned with green pepper and served with the most delicious side of broccoli rabe I've ever eaten, perfectly sweet with the end of winter's frost. Ossobuco con piselli, an ample portion of veal shank smothered in early peas, was nothing less than sublime, especially when chased with the buttery, chocolaty marrow spread across a wedge of Marini's crusty bread. Nom.

Contorni often get short shrift in Roman trats, but not so with Marini. These veggies were offered up in more than adequate portions, each carciofo alla Romana a full-sized, sexy-ass artichoke cooked with lemon and the local, savory mentucchia mint in the traditional manner. Misticanza, the ancient, almost mystical blend of local bitter greens, lettuces, herbs and young onions, was here sauteed, in padella, and served as an excellent foil for the succulent secondi. The desserts? Well, they looked great.

Oh, and did I mention the prices? Just in case you don't believe me, I managed to secure a copy of the menu, which is of course hand-written and changes daily. Bear in mind that portions are comparable to large portions elsewhere in the city, and unlike many fine establishments, the mains are served with hefty vegetable sides. Highly, highly recommended.

Rome 2011, A Brief Introduction

Rome is a city I've visited more often than any other outside of the U.S.– more often, in fact, than many cities in the U.S. In that time I feel I've come to understand the complexities of Rome fairly well, from the strata of historical layers that make up her facade to her uneasy position as capital of the Italian political state. I've seen the things you're supposed to see, the things you really ought to see and a few other, stranger things besides. And in all that time I've eaten... well. But rarely have I eaten excellently. This, I am certain, has only been my own fault.

In March of 2011 we traveled to Rome again and this time we made it our especial goal to eat bloody well. We succeeded. Despite the absolute worst weather I've ever encountered there, the usual logistics of group navigation and our less-than-adequate Italian, we managed to eat fantastically well, with an emphasis on cheapness and the focus on traditional, local Roman fare. Over the next few days we'll be sharing some of those meals, and recommending both general rules of thumb and specific places in which to get some outstanding, belly-lining, wallet-friendly grub in the Italian capital.