Not everyone will love it, but that’s not the point
The second or third day I was in Rome last month, I was on my way to Trattoria der (sic) Pallaro when I ran into some acquaintances from home. Because they are restaurant people, I asked them where they were eating, and they named the two most obvious places imaginable, places that I would only eat if I were forced to. (I was “forced” to eat at one when a friend booked it and invited me.) We wandered our separate ways.
Pallaro is in a group of buildings whose roots are in the Teatro di Pompeo, a Roman amphitheater whose shape is still evident. I discovered it one day a few years ago, and then forgot about it, but in 2018, when I was supposed to meet my friend Steve at Costanza, an old, semi-refined restaurant in a series of cave-like rooms that’s on the other side of the teatro structure, and Costanza was closed — as it seems to be about half the time you go there — I saw Pallaro, remembered it as being okay at least, texted Steve, and met him there. I fell in love.
We produce reported pieces, profiles, interviews, and rants about what’s broken in the food world (there’s a lot) and how to change things for the better. People sometimes tell me to just keep politics out of it. Respectfully: No. Food is political. We can’t and won’t ignore that.