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2005-04-08 - 1:31 p.m.
Is it "wrong" to travel to Rome just to eat a sandwich? Sometimes it feels too indulgent, not stark and Protestant enough. Especially when, while I am touring the capitals of Europe on my stomach, my parents are visiting charity hospitals in the remote corners of India.
On the other hand, I don't have a lot to offer hospital patients in India. Unless they needed something proofread. So, sandwiches it is!
My original goal was to eat another stuffed pizza bianca slice from Fratelli Paladini. Unfortunately, there was just a locked metal door where Paladini used to be. Had they closed? Left on vacation? Or, just run out of bread? Nothing is ever certain in Rome.
My backup plan, suggested by traveling companion Brian, was to secretly follow the Italians who had inquired at the store next door, making "sandwich?"-esque noises. They led us to another deli, that claimed to have invented the pizza bianca sandwich in 1968 (snort!). Having no other options, we gave them a try. Very tasty, but not quite Paladini quality.
Later, though, by a fluke, I discovered that the best deli in the world will custom make a pizza bianca sandwich. Volpetti could not possibly have a finer reputation, yet it was totally empty on a Wednesday afternoon. How is it that every McDonald's in Rome is packed with people, yet Volpetti stands empty? De gustibus non disputandum est.
The staff treated us like royalty, continually offering us samples of delicious meats and cheeses, and finally offering to stuff my pizza bianca slice with nothing more than prosciutto and real mozzarella di bufala, three top-notch ingredients that fused together into the official best sandwich in the world.
We had just walked the two blocks from the lovely Protestant Cemetery, with the graves of several poets (including Keats and Shelley), so poetry was in the air, especially because so many long-ago poems began with the majestic rolling "O" that you can rhyme with "Rome" if you say it right ("O Rome, my home, where I did roam, alone!"), so I will close with a bit of poetry.
[inspired by The Smiths]
so I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Shelley are on your side
but you lose
because The Sandwich is on mine!
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