We are in Italy again and had another adventure that we can loosely blame on the Limoncello.

There was another waiter, this time Amine–instead of Ferdinando. And the location this time is Rome instead of Florence. But something in Limoncello seems to create adventure.

When Steve and I first arrived at the Hotel Pulitzer in Rome, we decided to take a long walk and explore our setting and dining possibilities for the weekend ahead. Parking is tight in Rome, and across and down the street from the hotel we encountered a narrow dirt parking area and were surprised to see some used condoms scattered here and there. Steve and I chuckled, cracked some jokes and continued on our stroll.

The hotel had great reviews and was within walking distance of where my brilliant husband was going to install some research equipment (he founded Physiologic Instruments) at a local pediatric hospital. Reviews for the Pulitzer also raved about a local restaurant with outstanding food that catered to local Romans and was aptly named Lo Convento. We decided to go there Saturday evening.

Research showed that Lo Convento opened at 7:30 pm and we decided to be there at the open to get a good seat–and also to retire as early as possible so we could recover from jet lag. When we arrived, the rather large restaurant was very busy with new guests arriving by the minute. A gentleman greeted us at the door and asked if we had reservations. We did not. He said it would probably be an hour’s wait–and there was no bar at which we could sit. That would mean standing in the cold or taking the long hike back to the hotel. I explained our dilemma and he kindly found a small table for two at which we could sit and presumably wait.

To our surprise, the gentleman named Amine brought us menus and we immediately ordered gassy water and a bottle of wine–mostly as a way to secure our table and possible service.

And this is where the  Limoncello story begins.

To our delight, Amine presented us with a menu. We ordered Mama’s Meatballs as a shared starter and a glass of wine was poured for each of us. We were seated near the kitchen and the aromas were heavenly. Garlic, tomato sauce  and baking bread stirred hunger pains. In short order Amine set down what we assumed were Mama’s signature dish. The first couple of bites were amazingly good, but we quickly realized we had mistakenly been served eggplant parmesan. Amine said, “Keep eating, no charge!” We complied and within a couple of minutes, meatballs appeared on our table. I was already getting full, but the dinner had just begun. Steve had ordered Risotto with prawns, and I had decided to go for Spaghetti Carbonara.

What was I thinking???

The Stringozzi pasta had absorbed the salty Pecorino Romano cheese and the crispy pancetta bacon added a big punch of flavor. I took a bite of Steve’s Risotto, which was delicious and shared as much of my Carbonara with him as his tummy could hold.We returned 50 percent of the beautiful pasta plate back to the kitchen. already feeling pounds heavier.

But Amine, had other ideas. 

He correctly assumed Steve loved chocolate, and promised he would fall in love with their warm chocolate filled and chocolate covered cake, topped with vanilla ice cream. Steve folded, and I shared the wicked dessert with him. By this time, we were groaning with fullness we hadn’t experienced in over a year. Sensing our discomfort, Amine said we needed a good Italian “digestiv” that would settle everything down. After a bottle of wine  and two hours of dining (nothing was rushed), Steve and I both agreed that a digestiv might be just the ticket.

And out came the Limoncello!

This time it was served finely blended with ice and topped with a thin layer of Limoncello on top. We knew this was going to be good, and it turned out to be heavenly. And we were surprised when both of us felt some belly relief after drinking the digestiv. In a slightly tipsy and very happy state, we left the restaurant and promised to return.

We decided to walk back to the hotel to further help with digestion. As we rounded the corner to our street, we saw a campfire on the broad sidewalk up ahead.  And to our great surprise, there were near-naked ladies standing around the fire. The purpose was likely twofold: keeping warm on a chilly February night and attracting potential customers.

I managed to catch a quick photo before we detoured around the group. We couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girls and both wondered if the two clothed people to the left might have been the pimps or managers of some sort.

The dinner at Lo Convento had been overwhelming, so the next evening, we decided to return for a much lighter dinner. This time, I made reservations in advance and we hiked over at 7:30. Amine greeted us enthusiastically, and seated us near one of the giant trees that was growing straight through the ceiling and roof. I explained to Amine that a simple pizza would be fine for me. Steve ordered a plate of barbecued meats. We also ordered a bottle of wine and bottled water. The order was pretty simple.

Amine returned with bottles of wine and water–along with a plate of Italian appetizers accompanied by fresh-baked bread, olive oil and balsamic vinegar. He thought we needed to sample the chef’s appetizers. Predictably, I was full before the pizza and Steve’s platter of meats arrived. So full, in fact, that I could only eat a slice. Amine assured, once again, that Limoncello would be the perfect apertif.  And it was, served iced and chilled.

And so just as we did at home, the pizza was boxed and we left, with the fun intent of sharing the pizza with the Campfire Girls. They were surprised and delighted with the unexpected gift, and expressed their gratitude in  Italian, which we did not understand. But did.

We continued our stoll back to the hotel, and decided we would spend our final night of dining at Lo Convento once again. Perhaps with more Limoncello!

The next evening I called the restaurant, and prophetically, Amine answered the phone. I said we would like reservations at 7:30–or sooner–and he replied, “I will be waiting for you!”

We left the hotel around 7 pm and casually strolled to the restaurant, approximately two kilometers away. There were few cars or patrons when we arrived, but Amine was waiting at the door. He cordially greeted us inside, and further inside (to the apparent the most choice seats near the tree growing through the roof), where we were seated on chairs with extra pillows.

This was to be a night to remembered!

The first appetizer dish was a varied seafood platter–and our first time ever to try crispy fried anchovies. In the past, these little fish were used sparingly and always diluted in dressings and the like, To our mutual surprise, they were delicious–and apparently full of vitamins. This was immediately followed by fluffy, fresh-baked foccacia bread, which we devoured. Would Steve and I have room for any more food in our already-full bodies, we both wondered?

The main courses, a beautiful seafood pasta and bowl of mussels in an aromatic broth arrived after appetizer plates were removed. The mussels were easy to eat and were wonderful, We shared the pasta dish, which was also delicious but were unable to finish it. Amine came by the table and advised that we have an apertif of Limoncello to settled our overstuffed stomachs.

We couldn’t refuse.

The iced Limoncello arrived–with an extra glass of straight Limoncello for us to enrich our glasses.  And to our mutual surprise, it did help the meal to settle down. As we were departing and as the restaurant was about to close, I asked to see the kitchen and Steve and I were granted permission to do so. We were immediately greeted by the chef and rather young owner of the restaurant and enjoyed the kitchen tour, promising to return before too long.

In great spirits, we left the restaurant, walked by the ladies and their campfire–empty-handed this time. But Steve and I said our greetings–strolled on to our hotel and both agreed that our promise to return should not be an empty one.