There is something relieving about the interior of Armando al Pantheon. Stepping past the unassuming restaurant front and minimal signage into the small and comfortable dining room causes one to relax. If any worry was present about the quality of the forthcoming dining experience, it is leached out of you by the classic decor of vintage photos and its clearly practical yet welcoming layout. You are immediately reassured, somehow, that they’ve got this. At least, this is how I felt when I first stepped over its threshold.
While it is not uncommon for me to descend into an anxious state of worry when dining at restaurants for the first time, it must be said that upon my first visit to Armando al Pantheon I was experiencing a particularly acute episode of this pre-meal apprehension. I was visiting Rome for the day with my parents who had left it, mostly, up to me to find the destination for our luncheon of the day. Our one meal in Rome. Which, despite the booked tickets to the toted “completely empty vatican museums” (this was while pandemic measures had put a large dampener on tourist travel), was the real reason we were all going to the capital. The meal was the main event, not world renowned art collections, stunning frescoes, or Sistine Chapel. City breaks with my parents can mainly be characterized as scenic walks between amazing restaurants. So, the stakes were pretty high from the get go.
This is not to say that my parents would blame me or a mishap in my restaurant selection process if we were to have a less than pleasant lunch experience. I wouldn’t be told to make my own way home if the meal were to go awry. They are, as those who exist within the hospitality industry usually are, very aware of all the pitfalls that can occur or can be inflicted when dining in a restaurant. That being said, I still wouldn’t wish for them to have a bad meal that day just as much as I didn’t wish to have a bad meal that day.
I had done a fair amount of research on restaurants in Rome, a process I find almost as rewarding as the meal itself, and had found Armando al Pantheon featured in a variety of articles (TimeOut & others that I can’t remember). It seemed up our street: traditional food, not too pricey, nothing foamy or extracted on the menu, and, perhaps most importantly, the website and menu formatting was not too fancy or flashy. The restaurant was not concerned about drawing customers in through its online presence. A good sign. We had also, of course, whet our appetites the night before with the traditional reading aloud of the menu, which, on this occasion, only just fell short of an advanced email being sent to the restaurant detailing our lunch order. So we knew what to expect. This was not, however, enough to alleviate my habitual increase in apprehension.
I was fairly lucky that the day itself was not as hot as what is normally had in an italian August. Otherwise, the 40 minute walk from the Vatican Museums to the restaurant might have been the undoing of the entire trip. The only evidence that the staff of Armando al Pantheon would have had of our visit to Rome would have been some hysterical screams heard in the distance. Yet, it was still a close call as it was a sweaty and hungry group that came to the restaurant running on fumes and almost tangible fantasies of guanciale and tripe.
It was upon arrival at Armando, however, that I encountered another possible cause for panic. Having not looked closely at where the restaurant was located, and, in hindsight, having remained astoundingly oblivious to the implications of its name, I had no idea that it sat under thirty seconds away from one of the most major tourist attractions in Rome. This was not a good sign; any restaurant so close to such a large tourist attraction would have no need for repeat customers but rather charismatic waiters, laminated menus, and enticing lunch deals. If I had been aware of its location, it is extremely likely that I would have reconsidered booking a table there. I am, therefore, very glad that I was so blind to the connection that was so glaringly obvious once I had become aware of it.
So was my state when I stepped into Armando al Pantheon for the first time. A fair amount was riding on this lunch, not to mention the fact that we were also just pretty tired and hungry. And it was then that I experienced that certain calm that particular restaurants are capable of exuding simply through their atmosphere and decor. I was safe. All I had to do now was say the words “Amatriciana” and all would be well.
The stark contrast between the hot, crowded, and overstimulating surroundings of the Pantheon and the cool and tranquil interior of Armando at once refreshed and soothed anyone who entered. Even if it were only briefly to find out that they were full and that a booking should have been made. There is also something deeply reassuring when there are locals dining at a restaurant I have chosen and, on this occasion, there was, among others, a Roman business lady dining solo and just moving from her primi onto her secondi and a glass of red wine. A far more valuable endorsement than any feature in a publication and more than enough for me to shed my jitters and start to get excited for the meal to come.
You get what you see at Armando al Pantheon and as long as you eat what you see you will finish your meal very satisfied. As lovers of anchovies, the starters of bruschetta with butter and anchovies and the anchovy tart were obvious choices and neither disappointed. And being a complete sucker for anything oniony, tomatoey, and cheesy I insisted we have the melanzane parmigiana. For Primi we had the Amatriciana and the Cacio Pepe. We were supposed to share them, but once I had tasted the Amatriciana that wasn’t really going to happen. In cooking and eating guanciale I always struggle to integrate it into a dish or sauce in a balanced fashion; in a way that allows one to taste the guanciale in harmony with the other flavours and not in a form that is separate to, or overpowering of, the other elements of the dish. This was not an issue with Armando’s Amatriciana. It was not tomato sauce with guanciale or guanciale topped with tomato sauce. It was delicious and I am yet to have one that rivals it.
Sara wasn’t drinking that day so Martin, the well curated wine list and exciting offering of wines by the glass having piqued his interest, asked the waiter to bring only one glass of white for himself. Upon the waiter’s recommendation, a glass of Timorasso Massa was brought to the table which Sara informed us was delicious and told Martin that he ought to order himself one.
Throughout the meal, our order was taken and our food was delivered to us with polite, speedy, and efficient service that was so seamless that, while it was never underappreciated, it was almost unnoticeable.
Preludes to subsequent visits to Armando al Pantheon have since been characterised by excitement and giggling, my apprehension only rising when I consider straying from my primi order of amatriciana. A plunge I am yet to take.