Bar S. Callisto - Tour del Gelato

Lest we forget that the "Tour del Gelato" is an indefinite tour, and lately I have been slacking on my tour guide duties, I give you what I affectionately call "Gelateria Zozza," a.k.a. The Filthy Gelateria. Mind you, it's not really filthy in the literal sense. But in Roman dialect, sometimes when we want to indicate something so incredibly down-home and no-frills that there's just no other way to express it, well, I've heard people use the word "zozzo" before, and here I feel it's appropriate.

Usually, pleas by Ale to go here fall on deaf ears--mine. I have a bit of an aversion to this place. Maybe it's because it lacks the neon pizzazz of Blue Ice, or the embarassment of choice provided by Della Palma. In all fairness, Bar S. Callisto isn't even really a gelateria, but rather a bar that happens to serve homemade gelato. Let me just get to the honest point here: I don't mix well with the crowd that congregates in front of the bar. It reminds me of a grittier version of Campo de' Fiori when it's past dark and beer bottles start breaking on the pavement. Getting inside this bar always makes me feel like I've just crashed a meeting of Trastevere's secret grunge and alternative society. Let's face it...I just don't fit in around here...far too few piercings and tattoos to be accepted.

Truth be told, in the light of making this a stop on the Tour del Gelato after Ale insisted on it this weekend, I have re-evaluated my former assessment. Also because our trip there allowed me to bring closure to a blogging mystery I presented to you a few months back. And because I have to be honest, the gelato there IS pretty good, after all.

So, prepare yourself as I lead you into the dark underbelly of the secret gelateria bar.
Enter, and face the list:

No, people, there are no shiny glass cases overflowing with mounds of colorful gelato here. I mean, please, would you just look at this sign? One can only wonder what ever became of the flavors now shrouded in wrinkled bits of scotch-taped paper. Frankly though, the prices are excellent: from €1 to €2.

Oh...did I forget to mention that this is a strictly Romanisti bar?

By that I mean, major Rome soccer team memorabilia OVUNQUE, that is, everywhere. Ms., I know that must be the real reason Sante comes here when you guys visit Rome. Strangely, my Lazio-crazed husband doesn't seem to mind. That tells you how much he adores this place's gelato. And I once again have to confess, I hold a soft spot in my heart for these down-home bars with autographed photos of local soccer heros from the early-to-mid 80s. I'm not being sarcastic--trust me, I find it strangely charming.

This is where the gelato comes from--mysterious silver vats. If you catch the scooper on a busy day, you'll see the covers literally flying all over the place. They are FAST, and I mean it. Also note the coveted homemade whipped cream topping.


Bits of local wisdom and advice can be had at every turn:

Who am I to partake in the un-hygienic practice of refusing the little spoon? Oh, no, indeed!

This, friends, was my final selection, for €2 (actually a bit much for me). Chocolate and strawberry, a combination that never fails me when I can't find the strange concoctions I prefer at other places, filled with all number of cookies, fruits and random additives. No, you will find no chunks here, I assure you.

Well, our tour ended, I must say that my snobbish attitude regarding this place has softened into a quiet admiration for the simple art of gelato the way it was intended to be. And I give my stamp of approval to Bar S. Callisto for upholding the art of traditional, no-frills gelato.

And, about that blogger mystery I mentioned to you. Remember how I swore I couldn't ever manage to find a clever enough ploy to disguise the shameless act of capturing the pupazzaro on film? Well, folks, let's all give a round of applause to S. Calisto and its alternative club, which, who knew, our friend the pupazzaro is a member of. Not surprising in the least. In a thinly-disguised attempt to appear tourist-like, snapping a photo of the many happy customers enjoying their drinks in the sun, I zoomed in on said pupazzaro, and here, for the first time in blogdom (I think), I give you:

It's your turn to figure out which one he is. And I'll give you a little hint: it's not the guy in the white shirt.

Bar S. Callisto
Piazza S. Callisto, just off Piazza S. Maria in Trastevere (the road to the left when you're facing the church)

Blue Ice, Ice Baby

[It's Food Week at AHIR: all food, all drink, all week, leading up to World Nutella Day on February 6! I'm giving you the weekend off so you can go and ponder your WND entry. We even got a special shout out from Technorati. We're "where the fire" is at, people! Go and vote to add some fuel to the flames. Then get going and send your entry to nutelladay (AT) nutelladay (DOT) com as soon as it's ready!]


You didn't think I had forgotten the good ol' Gelato Tour, now did you? A gelato a day keeps the doctor away. Or in this case, a Gelato Tour a month. Another great idea thought up by my World Nutella Day Co-Host, the lovely Ms. Adventures in Italy.

I was in the Campo de' Fiori area not too long ago on a wet and rainy day. I passed by the sizzling neon sign of Blue Ice and thought, oh, why not? You see, Blue Ice is a chain, so already that gives it a minus in my book. I'm kind of a food snob like that. But seeing as how I had only tried it once before and didn't even remember if it was good or not, I figured it was time to give it another shot.

Now, regardless of whether the stuff is actually edible, as far as I'm concerned these people get major points for sheer gelato artistry. You might think I'm kidding when I tell you that one or two employees were continually "re-molding" these gelato mountains while I was in the shop. There were like four employees total. I think that Blue Ice actually hires people specifically to do this complicated gelato shaping. It's like Marie Antoinette's hair in her sassy phase, and that requires serious maintenance.


Sometimes I'm not really in the mood for a cone or a cup. I just want a milkshake. Here in Italy if it's not called milkshake (which it is, at least in McDonald's, but of course how would I know, because I make it a point to never eat there), it's known as frappe. So, that's what I settled on, and just listen to this wacky flavor combination I invented: cappuccino and creme caramel. Sounds kind of weird? It was really, really good. You should always try to be a bit of a mad scientist in an Italian gelateria. Why? Well, because you CAN, of course. Why else?

So, Blue Ice actually came out worthy of the Gelato Tour. I had heard lots of people who had visited Rome singing its praises before, and even though it's a *gasp* chain establishment, I have to admit that my milkshake was molto buono. It still isn't my favorite gelato place (maybe that will be for the next installment on the tour), but after this stop on the tour, I wouldn't tell you not to go there. That honor is reserved for any generic gelato shop within 50 feet of Trevi Fountain, in the summer. You'll regret it. Trust me. I'm speaking from personal experience.

Any Blue Ice devotees out there?

Blue Ice
Pretty much everywhere
Try Campo de' Fiori
Or Piazza S. Maria in Trastevere