A Gastronomic Road Trip From Rome to Naples

Posted on December 12, 2024

Italian

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While the high-speed train zips between Rome and Naples in just over an hour, I much prefer to meander between these vibrant cities. My travels are a culinary quest, and after 20 plus years living in Rome, I’ve discovered that the artichokes and pastas you encounter along the way rival the delights waiting upon arrival. So, I extend the journey into a leisurely four-day adventure, savoring meals at centuries-old trattorias and exploring the mesmerizing volcanoes and majestic Bourbon palaces that give this region of Italy its unique charm.

DAY 1

When I turned up to the rental agency at 9:00am, my “Mini or similar” turned out to be a Volkswagen Polo, which wasn’t as fun to drive as my first choice, but any medium-sized car would do. The only essential amenity I ever really need is full insurance coverage to ensure headache-free travel. You don’t have to book way in advance for automatic cars anymore but if you wan’t a hybrid, then you should.

I directed my functional but un-romantic vehicle east along Via Tiburtina, a third century BCE highway that was used by Roman Emperors and travelers to move between Rome and the ancient village of Tibur (modern day Tivoli) and further afield to Abruzzo. Seventeen miles from Rome, I stopped at Villa Adriana, a vast second century complex that did double duty as Hadrian’s residential palace and his imperial headquarters. Centuries of pillaging have stripped the hulking walls of their stone veneer but have done little to dampen the impact of the villa’s innovative design and astonishing scale. Up the hill in Tivoli, I parked the car in Piazza Garibaldi near the Villa d’Este entrance, feeding the meter for 5 hours to allow for a leisurely lunch followed by a villa visit. I like to get lunch first, walking through the narrow alleys to the edge of Tivoli’s historic center where La Sibilla, a restaurant founded in 1720 on Roman ruins, serves an ample antipasto spread including cured ham, fried parcels of dough, and croquettes beside the restored ruins of an ancient temple. By the time I backtracked through town, most of the crowds at UNESCO-recognized Villa d’Este had thinned—many visitors never venture beyond the villa entrance, making the rest of the town pleasantly tourist-free. The Villa D’Este’s cycles of polychrome frescoes featuring Biblical and mythological stories are exquisite, but the fountain-filled gardens are perhaps even more impressive.

From Tivoli, I veered south, cutting through olive groves and grazing pastures as I approached brooding and gothic Genazzano, a medieval village worth a stop for a walk through the nearly 1000-year-old historic center and for views over a patchwork of farmland. Next was Olevano Romano, a town of stone houses stacked atop volcanic rock, 15 minutes away. As I scanned the skyline of the region’s terrain from an overlook in Olevano, I could make out the silhouette of the volcanoes, long extinct, that birthed the terrain millennia ago. This vista always stops me in my tracks—and I have traveled by car on nearly every highway and back road of southern Italy—and I’m hopeful more visitors will make the trip, if not for the scenery than at least for Olevano’s greatest gastronomic asset: the cavernous Sora Maria e Arcangelo, a destination trattoria favored by Roman food professionals, which serves meaty masterpieces like béchamel-laced veal cannelloni and fried baby lamb chops. The cuisine often draws me from Rome for day trips and I never miss a plate of tender artichoke hearts, the best outside the Italian capital.

Sufficiently nourished, I drove the rolling country roads through hills dotted with grazing lambs to Antonello Colonna Resort & Spa, a boutique hotel in rural Labico. While the food isn’t to my taste—chef Antonello Colonna’s contemporary cuisine is boring as hell—the property itself is lovely and there’s an appealing visual balance between the structure’s concrete architecture and the working farm surrounding it. The patio of my east-facing room, which overlooked manicured fields, was a tranquil place to retire with a bottle of local Cesanese from the sensational wine list.

Day 2

The sunlight gently coaxed me awake as it poured into my room, signaling it was time for a quick swim in the heated pool before departing Labico. I followed the Via Casilina, a medieval road crafted from two ancient highways, into the Ciocaria, a sub-region of southern Lazio known for its simple vegetal cuisine, sparse population, and unspoiled terrain. I love the area’s rural atmosphere and it’s one of those places in Italy that is so insanely beautiful that I’m torn between wanting to protect and needing to shout about it to anyone who will listen. Don’t be put off by the industrial parks you’ll drive through—take the A1 highway to expedite your trip. Once you turn off after 15 minutes, you’ll be quickly back on a picturesque stretch of Via Casilina approaching the medieval town of Anagni. I parked just outside the walls at Porta Santa Maria to explore the narrow, palace-trimmed streets and impressive cathedral, reminders of the centuries when Anagni was the summer retreat for the Popes.

A visit to this part of Lazio is incomplete without a stop at Pezz de Pane in Frosinone Alto, the more ancient part of the city. In fact, I would argue that if you visit Rome and don’t take the train down to Roberta Pezzella’s landmark bakery, you have missed out on one of the greatest bread and pizza experiences on the planet. Her breads, pastries, cookies, and pizza by the slice are crafted with artisan flours and her panettone are legendary. Mind the hours, which at the time of publication, are Wednesday to Saturday.

Deeper into the Ciocaria, the Valle di Comino is a pristine valley on the edge of a national park. I came here to unplug, eat really good food, and hike around pretty stone villages like San Donato and Picinisco, which are clustered along the lower slopes of the park’s mountainous terrain. I took my time driving between villages, which are linked by the picturesque SR509, to take in the sweeping vistas of olive groves and working farms. I wrapped up an afternoon of driving at Agriturismo Cerere, a trattoria and organic farm in the woods above Alvito, for a dinner of local sheep cheeses, simmered legumes, and handmade pasta. I walked off my meal in Picinisco, home to a crumbling medieval castle and Sotto le Stelle, an albergo diffuso with a concierge and suites located in separate buildings.

Day 3

Before departing the Valle di Comino, I arranged an early morning visit to Agricola San Maurizio, an organic farm where Maria Pia made the cheese I tasted the previous night. Her formaggi ranged in flavor from floral to herbal, depending on the technique, age, and sheep’s diet. We chatted over spoonfuls of fresh, steaming ricotta, then I headed towards the Lazio-Campania border. I followed the series of roundabouts from the motorway exit to a switchback road leading up to the Abbey of Montecassino, a Benedictine monastery that was destroyed in WWII, then heavily restored. The stone cloister, ornate basilica, and well-appointed museum can attract thousands of pilgrims daily. Preferring silent and subdued memorials, I drove 30-minutes south to San Pietro Infine, a raw but worthy detour and somber companion to the Abbey. This stone village was left intentionally in ruins to bear witness to the ravages of war and its crumbling walls and bombed-out roofs seemed eerily trapped in the moment of their destruction, like a modern day Pompeii.

My next stop, after 45-minutes on the A1 highway, was the Reggia di Caserta, one of the largest palaces on the planet. I meandered through the gilded halls and marveled at the wealth of the 18^th century Spanish royalty that built 1,200 rooms spread over 2.5 million square feet. Utterly overwhelmed, I retreated to the 300-acre gardens behind the Reggia where hundreds of botanical species flourished around a stocked fish pond, artificial lake built to host mock naval battles, and faux archeological ruins. All that strolling had worked up my appetite, which I would need at my next destination, Pepe in Grani, Italy’s most celebrated pizzeria. When I arrived for my 30^th visit—I am more than a little obsessed with this place—master pizzaiolo Franco Pepe was in the kitchen stretching his hand-mixed dough (unusual for a pizzeria that does more than 400 pies a night!) into disks, adorning them with tart heirloom tomatoes, local salamis, and savory mozzarella before baking them in the domed wood-burning oven. His masterful technique and obsession with dough make his pies ethereal, critical for any multi-pizza tasting menu and Franco’s devotion to his territory means each topping is culled from a stellar artisan producer nearby. The pizzeria rents a few B&B rooms upstairs but the place has become so famous among Italians who travel from every region they are nearly always booked. My plan B was hardly a compromise and after a 30-minute drive through windy country roads, I was drifting into a dough-induced slumber between the linen sheets at Aquapetra, a resort and spa immersed in a dense pine forest near the edge of the Matese mountains.

Day 4

After a soak beneath rough hewn stone vaults in Aquapetra’s heated indoor pool, I continued an hour southwest to Sant’Anastasia, a village on the slopes of Mt. Vesuvius home to ‘E Curti, one of my favorite trattorias anywhere. The place is worth a drive from Rome on its own—and I make the trip frequently–for chef Angela Ceriello’s Campanian comfort food like a stew of bitter greens studded with bits of tender pork and suckling lamb accompanied by simmered sweet peas. I crave her warm hospitality and family recipes, which she told me haven’t been altered in generations. What has changed recently is the location, a larger space across the street with a garden and lots of natural light shining into the dining room where Angela stuffed me with stew and lamb and, as always, sent me away with a bottle of her Nucillo, a digestif made from walnuts she harvested herself.

The 30-minute drive due west to Naples was mellow until the motorway funneled me into the city’s nightmarish traffic of darting scooters, cavalier pedestrians, and dinged-up cars oblivious to lanes. These conditions might seem overwhelming—the uninitiated should return their rental at the Naples airport and take a taxi to the city—but I love Neapolitan-style driving and all its lawless, me-first brashness. I instantly adapted and double parked on via Salvator Rosa, then followed the black basalt sidewalk a few steps to Caseari Cautero, a champagne and gourmet food shop. The proprietor Salvatore Cautero belted out an enthusiastic greeting of “Uè Ketty!” Before I knew it, there was a glass in my hand and Salvatore and I were toasting to my expert parking job.