Sora LellaRome

We finally made it there. For years I'd had Sora Lella on my mental list of "someday, maybe," and last Saturday we found ourselves seated on the Isola Tiberina. A historic place, you all know it—one of those symbols of Roman peasant cooking that has somehow grown into something much bigger than itself.

The prices are steep, no point beating around the bush. But we figured: let's give it a shot and see if they're worth it.

The puntarelle—I can still taste them. Creamy anchovy sauce, puntarelle nice and firm, crispy just right. Fifteen euros and it all checked out. The zucchini blossoms, on the other hand, weren't quite what you'd expect—soft frying, not crispy—but they were stuffed to the gills with a hint of smoke and anchovy. Incredibly flavorful. Their own personal take on it. And the supplì with chicken offal: worlds away from what you'd grab at a pizza al taglio joint, but that's where the original supplì comes from, from the fifth quarter. Good, truly good.

For the pasta courses they make amatriciana only with potato gnocchi. Enormous, but light as air. The guanciale not crispy at all, pecorino applied with a light hand—and here's where the doubt creeps in: tourists, so many Asian tourists, maybe they dial back the saltiness a bit. Same story with the carbonara, incredibly creamy, good guanciale but soft. I still found it delicious, personally.

And the desserts. The ricotta and sour cherry torte was spectacular—airy ricotta, generous with it, perfectly balanced with the pastry crust. The maritozzo was the Lenten version with raisins. Fresh whipped cream, excellent. Unconventional, not the classic you'd expect, but good.

The atmosphere is just right: feels like home, the waiters joke around with you, Roman in the best sense of the word.

Eighty euros a head. They know what they're doing, and it's worth what they charge.