Ria Bacon: editor & writer

Linguist with wanderlust,
From the hills of New Guinea to the halls of the Sorbonne,
From the beaches of Bassam to the fields of Friesland,
From the catacombs of Rome to the Blue Mountains of Jamaica.
From the heather of the Veluwe to the dust of Dakar ...

Currently resident in the Land of Sea with a small tribe of kids and Mr B.

Tweet Blender

Currently translating a manual on how to make a handpump. Background research takes ages but gives great feeling of learning something new.
1 week ago
@RiaBacon helloooo! i've been suffering from exactly the same problem.
2 weeks ago
@lucypepper Good to hear from you. Real life is getting in the way of my virtual self. Maybe I should outsource the overworked part.
2 weeks ago
Fat tax now! RT @AP In 20 years, some 42 percent of the U.S. population will be obese, new government report says: http://t.co/ImZK2ETt -EF
2 weeks ago
@RiaBacon i read that as: Fresh post... random outbreak. Need more sleep.
2 weeks ago

Stet in a cloud

Ria fotografia

Photo Galleries

Now hear dis!

FYI

Stet means "Let it stand" and is used by editors to indicate that the original text should be left untouched.

...in Arcadia ego is a pun on a painting by Poussin.

Stet is a proud member of


    expatriate

Contact

Ria[dot]Bacon[at]gmail.com

Volpetti’s

When you first enter the shop, the smell of cheese and ham is overpowering.

Claudio Volpetti in his shop


Volpetti’s: probably the best deli in Rome; definitely one of the main reasons we’re still here, particularly since it’s only a ten-minute walk from our house. We eat at their self-service restaurant, Volpetti più, at least once a week. So after almost three years we get great service to go with the great food – exchange of pleasantries, extra goodies for the kids, gluten-free meal for my son, lasagne hot from the oven and a complimentary glass of bardolino.

A final point in its favour is that it opens at 5:30, which suits our northern European routine of eating before 9:00. (Our kids are in bed when most Italian kids are eating dinner.)

For such extraordinary food, the restaurant is surprisingly unpretentious: self-service, plastic cloths on the tables and cheap metal chairs. The crowd is unpretentious too, mainly locals from the neighbourhood, Testaccio, a traditional working-class area built around the defunct city slaughterhouse, converted into a mediateque.

Testaccio is one of my favourite quarters of Rome. Its market is as colourful as the more famous one at Campo di Fiori, but the prices are lower. One of the stalls sells only tomatoes – 42 different varieties.

When the slaughterhouse was the main employer in the neighbourhood, the workers were given the cheap cuts as a perk of the job. This is why many of the restaurants boast of their … tripe specialities.

After a dinner of sweetbread, you can go round Monte Testaccio to one of the many clubs built into the base of the hill, which is itself made entirely from pottery shards.

“Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

You better believe it, baby.

Related posts:

  1. Another Colosseo
  2. Before I go to sleep at night …
  3. Night and Day
  4. Rumble in the Aventine
  5. At the lake