Rome, One Bite at a Time: Cappuccino, Artichokes, and the Best Pizza of My Life

Notes on cappuccino perfection, cloud-like maritozzo, artichokes that changed my life, and the best pizza I’ve ever eaten.

I came to Rome expecting art, history, and beautiful streets.

What I didn’t expect was to fall completely in love with artichokes.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

Perhaps.

But after a week in Rome, I’m not so sure any picture could ever capture the way a cappuccino tastes in the morning light, or how a simple plate of artichokes can make you wonder how you’ve lived your whole life without eating them this way.

So while I’ve spent this trip sharing daily reels on my social media—little snapshots of my wandering days—I thought it might be time to pause and give the food of Rome the words it deserves.

Because truly, no photograph could explain these flavors.

The Cappuccino

Before arriving in Rome, I had a small worry.

In Paris last year, the coffee was simply too strong for me. Every cappuccino left me feeling a bit nauseous, and I quickly learned that coffee there and I were not going to be friends.

Rome, however, had other plans.

The cappuccino here is perfection.

Smooth. Balanced. Gentle.

It’s not bitter, not overpowering—just a silky blend of espresso and milk that feels almost comforting. The foam is soft and velvety, and the flavor is somehow both rich and light at the same time.

Each morning I find myself thinking, so this is how coffee is supposed to taste.

The Maritozzo

A few mornings ago I tried something I had never even heard of before coming to Rome: a maritozzo.

Imagine a soft, slightly sweet brioche bun split open and filled with a cloud of fresh whipped cream.

Now imagine it not being overly sweet at all.

That’s the beauty of it. The bun isn’t sugary, the cream isn’t heavy, and the whole experience feels… elegant. Simple. Almost delicate.

It’s indulgent without being excessive.

The kind of pastry that makes you pause for a moment and say, well, this is lovely.

The Tiramisu

Now here is the real surprise.

I don’t even like tiramisu at home.

In the United States it often tastes overly sweet, with an overpowering coffee flavor that seems to drown everything else out.

But here in Rome?

It’s entirely different.

The one I had last night was perfect.

The sweetness was gentle, the coffee subtle, and the mascarpone cream so silky that it almost felt like a cloud. Each ingredient seemed to be playing its role perfectly.

It reminded me of a football team working together in the Super Bowl.

Not one player trying to outshine the others.

Just a group of stars working together to create something magical.

And magical it was.

The Roman Artichokes

Then there are the artichokes.

Oh my goodness, the artichokes.

Carciofi alla romana have quickly become a staple for me this week, and I find myself asking one question over and over again:

How have I lived my entire life without eating artichokes like this?

Slowly braised with olive oil, garlic, and herbs, they become soft, rich, and almost buttery. They taste earthy and comforting and somehow deeply Roman.

Why they are not on every menu in America I will never understand.

The Pizza

And finally…

The pizza.

Today I had lunch at a little place called Emma.

Let me just say this plainly: it was the best pizza I have ever eaten in my life.

Hands down. Bar none.

The crust was thin and crisp, the tomato bright and flavorful, and the mozzarella perfectly balanced. I had two full slices and then, being mindful of my blood sugar, scraped the toppings up toward the top crust and enjoyed the rest that way.

It was glorious.

Every bite tasted like the perfect marriage of simple ingredients done extraordinarily well.

A Thought About Pictures and Words

This trip has reminded me of something.

While a picture may capture the beauty of a street, a fountain, or a sunset, it cannot tell you how the cappuccino tasted that morning.

It cannot explain the silky texture of mascarpone cream or the way garlic and olive oil transform an artichoke into something unforgettable.

And it certainly cannot describe the joy of discovering that the best pizza of your life might be waiting for you in a quiet Roman pizzeria.

For those things, you need words.

And perhaps a very good appetite.

Honey Note

Travel has a funny way of teaching us things we didn’t know we needed to learn. Sometimes it’s history or art. Other times it’s something much simpler—like discovering that the most extraordinary experiences often come from the humblest ingredients, prepared with care.

And sometimes the lesson is simply this: try the artichokes.

Trust me on this one.

Tomorrow I leave Rome for Florence.

I have a feeling Florence will tell its stories through art and golden light the way Rome has told its stories through food and ancient streets.

But Rome has already left its mark on me.

Not as a tattoo on my skin, but as one in my mind’s eye — a memory of cappuccino mornings, artichokes that changed my life, and the simple perfection of pizza done exactly right.

And I suspect this won’t be my last “arrivederci.”

Some cities have a way of calling you back.

Con amore da Roma,

🍯 Honey (MaryNell)

Carciofi alla Romana

Maritozzo and cappuccino