Your night, stop by stop
Mercato Testaccio
We pick a stall each and gather lunch ingredients without coordinating. Whatever looks good, in season, or makes us curious.
Box 66, Mordi e Vai
We sit on plastic stools with a panino of slow-cooked allesso di bollito, the kind of sandwich that gets juice on your wrists.
Up Monte dei Cocci
We climb the hill made entirely of ancient broken amphorae and read the Protestant Cemetery wall. Keats is buried just beyond it.