Largely undiscovered by tourists, terrace restaurant Caffè Ciampini is near the action yet out of the fray.
Words and photography by Liani Solari
A lone turtle hangs back from the group on a marble slab at one end of the pool while her two-dozen co-inhabitants jostle with one another at the other end. I know how she feels.
After a day of pounding Rome’s hot, black cobblestones, weaving through thick, airless crowds in the stifling summer heat, my mother and I are relishing our temporary escape from the City of Eternal Tourists.
Concealed behind a lush green wall near the top of the Spanish Steps, Caffè Ciampini is a verdant oasis overlooking the city’s rooftops. A welcome breeze offers respite from the still air below, and the noises of Italy’s most frenetic city are imperceptible, save for the glorious chorus of church bells at dusk. This lovely terrace restaurant is near the action yet out of the fray and, surprisingly, is largely undiscovered by tourists. Leave your spruiker repellent in your hotel room.
Over several trips to Rome since 1998, I’ve seen Caffè Ciampini undergo renovations and extensions under the management of third-generation Roman restaurateur Marco Ciampini, who took over Cafe du Jardin, as it was then called, in 1989. Today, the centrepiece of the restaurant is a tiled pool that features a goat-head fountain and is filled with (ornamental) red-eared slider turtles. These turtles have surely moved up the real estate ladder since 1998, when their humble abode was a plastic bucket in a shady corner of the terrace.
I’ve been looking forward to Caffè Ciampini’s Mediterranean menu all day. We’ve just spent seven weeks in Britain, where we’ve had our fill of black pudding sausages for breakfast, potatoes three ways (on the one plate!) and a forkful of haggis that will linger long in the memory. Not a leafy salad or coloured vegetable in sight. (Jamie, I feel your pain.) Although we’ve been in Italy for only a week, I need to start weaning myself off the three Ps (pizza, panini, pasta) and the spaghetti con vogole (spaghetti with clams) – no matter how delicious – or burst at the seams.
Scanning Caffè Ciampini’s menu, we savour every sip of our first glass of wine as though it could be our last. Really, it could be. Italian women don’t drink much, and the same is expected of their foreign sisters.
Without any prompting, a plate of prawn and salmon aperativi (appetisers) appears. I choose the prosciutto di Parma e melone (Parma ham and rockmelon) from the antipasti options on the menu, knowing I’ll have to pace myself to save space for the restaurant’s famous dessert.
There was a time when I felt obliged to order all five courses on the Italian menu, but not any more. I skip the primi piatti (first course, namely risotto and pasta) and home in on the costolette di agnello under secondi piatti. It translates to the table as succulent grilled lamb chops with a balsamic reduction, served on a bed of vegetables and sculpted rice. The sun sets over Rome’s skyline and a meal fit to revive menu turistico-weary travellers.
Though Caffè Ciampini’s generous dessert menu ranges from homemade gelati to chestnut mousse, it almost seems compulsory to part with a few extra euros for a slice of local culinary history. I order the renowned Tartufo Ciampini chocolate gelato invented by Marco’s grandfather, Giuseppe Ciampini, in 1945. The recipe remains a closely guarded family secret – Roman intrigue in every mouthful.
While we polish off dessert (and, surprisingly, a second glass of wine) the lone turtle rouses, comes down from her marble ‘pedestal’ and settles in for the night with the others. Like us, she just needed time out.
© Liani Solari
‘When in Rome: Turtles and tartufo’ was originally published on Liani Solari’s Girls’ Own Adventure travel blog (now offline).
Liani Solari 