I sometimes feel that my life and the lives of my flatmates spin in little circles around Roscioli. Roscioli is our local bakery, our “Antico Forno.” It also happens to be the best bakery in Rome and the world at large. The warm, crusty, doughy goods that fill this paradise are at the heart of a Cornell in Rome diet.
Oliver’s crackly flour dusted ciabatta rolls? Roscioli. Carla’s trusty sourdough? Roscioli. Andrew’s biscotti? Roscioli. Obviously. My green olive-studded whole wheat bread? You know who.
And whenever one has to negotiate a tight lunch break between classes, or if one simply feels a smidge too lazy to make lunch, it’s off to Roscioli for pizza fresh out of the oven, chopped into slices on the wood counter with a startling thwack! During Roscioli’s rush hour, (at which time it seems everyone in the neighborhood has rushed to Roscioli’s), this thwacking sound gets lost in the happy noisy chatter of the crowd.
The visions that gleam behind the glass counter at Roscioli-sandwiches stuffed with eggplant, basil and mozzerella, pyramids of fresh suppli, glistening, bubbly focaccia being hauled from oven to counter, cakes bejeweled with carmelized fruit–are almost overwhelming. They incite a general cheer among the customers, which envelopes you when you walk in.
Sometimes I go to Roscioli just to stand there for a moment, basking in the sights and smells and sounds, being one among everyone.
Roscioli is simply the best. And it’s no secret.
