Trattoria da Augusto

In Trastevere, you always find something. This time we ended up at Augusto, one of those historic trattorias tucked away in a quiet little piazza — and just finding a quiet spot in Trastevere is something of a miracle in itself. No reservations, you wait outside, you queue. The menu changes daily, gnocchi on Thursdays and so on, the kind of cooking your grandmother used to make. The concept is there.

Let's start with what worked: the puntarelle. Crispy, with a decent sauce, nothing to complain about. The carciofo alla romana was good, homey, cooked properly. So far so good.

Then the first courses arrive and things fall apart. The cacio e pepe falls short of acceptable. The rigatone was cooked well enough but completely bland, topped with a cream of pecorino and pepper that was clearly made in advance and never emulsified with the pasta. Two separate things on the plate. The result doesn't even tempt you to wipe the plate clean.

The amatriciana looked like cafeteria food. Guanciale cut thick as a couple of slightly boiled slices of bacon, anonymous tomato passata, pecorino and pepper practically nonexistent. It lacked all the richness you expect.

The tiramisu — yes, we even pushed on to dessert — was a solid slab, no coffee, no freshness, made who knows when. Acceptable, nothing more.

The service was curt, not in that charming Roman way, just petulant. You're better off outside, in the little piazza, under a beautiful magnolia. Inside it's dark and cramped.

Twenty euros a head for this. At least it's honest, compared to all the industrialized fare circulating around here. But honest isn't enough.