08/04/2026
Nonna answers the phone. The rooms are her house. Every plate feels borrowed from her cupboard, and the staff treat you like you’ve walked into her Roman kitchen uninvited but welcome anyway.
That’s before the food even shows up.
Deep-fried eggplant parm sticks instead of the mozzarella you were expecting. A carbonara silky enough to make Nico’s recommendation feel like a formality. A cotoletta the size of a small dog, drowning tableside in smoked provola and scamorza, floating in red sauce like it’s daring you to finish it.
You will not finish it. Order the cheesecake anyway.
📍 Elvira, San Diego — Roman rules, grandma’s rules. Same thing, apparently.
