That would be me, Mrs. Moglie. Married to a native Italian, Mr. Marito.
Mother to a daughter in high school, Ms. SmartyPants and a son in middle school, Mr. Uometto.
Employed at a private British School as an English teacher and Coordinator of Children's Studies.
Part of a small, but growing Protestant church in Frascati, a small town in the hills just outside of Rome.

This is where I sometimes gripe, complain and grumble about the things I dislike, have yet to get used to or simply don't understand about bella Italia.
I do, however, have many people, places and things that I dearly love and I am more than aware of being blessed by each and every one of them.
Also - a few helpful posts for visitors to Rome or for newly arrived ex pats. Check the side bar for tags. I've even some recipes that I've borrowed, tweaked or invented. One thing I've come to love about Italy is how it's changed the way I eat - slow food !! Although ... I do miss Taco Bell ... and Jack in The Box ... and KFC ... and ::sigh::
Thanks for stopping by !!

Friday, November 19, 2010

Steak, Coca Cola and Freedom

Mr. Marito and I don't get out much. Well, no, I mean, we leave the house on a daily basis and sometimes we even spend morning to night without a moment's rest and relaxation on the couch or in front of the computer screen. What I mean is that, we don't often get the chance for "date night" or "romantic dinner and a movie night" or "just you and me, no kids, no talking about report cards, who's sick, who's not, who's turn is it to wash the dishes? night" - that's what I meant. Now, you may think we, Mr. Marito and I, are just two boring old fuddy-duddies, married with children so long a time that we've forgotten the joy and wonder of grown-up conversation. This is not the case. And do not, for one minute, think Mr. Marito has lost his Italian charm or that I, Mrs. Moglie, have lost my Korean American feminine allure -- not at all. We still got it!

But detailed plans and good intentions can never win against sore throats, fevers, complicated algebra assignments, last minute but-Mommy-I-told-him-he-could-stay-for-dinner-and-that-Papà-will-drive-him-home-and-so-he'-on-his-way-now! or a number of other life or death situations that impede us from carrying out our evil selfish plans to eat a meal that's been cooked and served by someone else and then cleared and cleaned by another someone else, all in relative silence. 

*It's 1:30PM and a few of our friends had planned a night out of movies and a pizza. The plans were made a week ago. Lo and behold, today (now) I received a call from Mrs. OkieDokieShmokiePokie informing me that she and her clan will be unable to make it tonight. Her husband, Mr. AppioClaudio, had twisted his ankle at the market this morning. On top of that, her younger son, Mr. Boo, has an ear infection and raised temperature while  Mr. UeUé, her older son, has tons of homework to finish. You see what I mean.

So the other night, Mr. Marito and I saw our chance and escaped went out for an evening of fine wine, caviar and lobster steak, burgers and Coca Cola. We were alone. It being rather last minute and a little rushed, "Fai presto! Presto!" "Hurry! Hurry! Before the kids manage to untie themselves, remove the chains and bolts, break down the steel encased door and find us! Hurrrrrryyyy!" We ran to the car, buckled in and sped off. 

But where were we going? We hadn't a clue. No reservations made in advance, no time to get all gussied up for someplace classy ... I remembered seeing an American style Steak House at Termini, Rome's train station. I proposed this idea to Mr. Marito. Steak? Did you say steak? A house? Of steak? Of course, he said yes. It took us about 20 minutes to get there by subway and another 10 minutes to find it. I was certain it was near the entrance ... but which entrance? Coming up from the escalators, we were standing smack dab in the middle of Termini's main floor. "Cerca la mucca," I said. "Look for the cow." I realize there's something a little off about a restaurant which chooses to display a life sized statue representing the very animal of which you, as a patron, will shortly be partaking; chewing, swallowing and digesting. But this was a decision made on short notice, in the throes of confusion and desperation. We knew not what we were doing. There were two entrances, on opposite sides of each other and just to make a statement about my consistently bad sense of direction, I chose the wrong entrance. We lost some time walking from one end to the other. But that's ok. We were freeeee! 

Roadhouse Grill. It's really not that bad of a place, after all. The prices are moderate, the food is good (not great), the service is okay (I'm fine with indifference as opposed to mean) and the seating was plentiful with room to spare (in pizzerias there is the constant danger of being trapped in your seat as too many tables are cramped into too small a space).  

I had a Mushroom Swiss Burger 
with Coke and a side of fries. 

Mr. Marito had a New York Strip rare with 
a glass of beer from the tap and a side of fries

We've been back since then - with the kids. It's actually a kid friendly place and they even have a KID'S MENU with smaller portions and less costly meals. This is not something offered in most Italian eateries.

We took Mr. Uometto there for Baby Back Ribs. A little tough and stringy, but for expat kids who don't know any better, it was a rare treat. 

Burgers, fries and a drink can be had at a decent price and I think the extra euro it costs is more than worth it to have a sit down meal in an uncrowded quieter setting than say ... McDonald's. It's actually literally just 2 minutes walking distance from the main floor McDonald's at Termini.

*** Last three images from here.

1 comment:

red shulamita said...

I've been there!
I've been there!