When my family and I went to Da Andrea, the ambiance created the evening to feel unique compared to any chain or tourist eatery. The restaurant was hidden away in the neighborhood in a manner that felt intimate, nearly clandestine, and when we walked into the dining room, there were warm lights and tables were set close together so the other tables’ conversation filled the air with a lively hum. It felt like the kind of place you’d come back to not just for the food, but for the comfort of the space itself.
We began with the warm octopus salad (Insalata Tiepida di Polipo). My mom was the first to point out how tender the octopus was, not rubbery at all, and how the potatoes and olives balanced the flavor. It wasn’t showy, but the brightness and freshness made it stand out. We also split the ink spaghetti with clams (Spaghetti al Nero di Seppia con Vongole). The dark-colored pasta made a bold impression when presented to the table, and clams added a sweetness that would counteract the brininess of the squid ink. My sister adored the way the garlic and olive oil seasoned the dish without making it overly heavy, and she proceeded to steal more than one forkful from my plate.
For my entree, I ordered the tagliatelle with meat sauce (Tagliatelle al Ragù). The pasta was broad and fresh, the type that feels as though it was prepared just a few hours ago, and the sauce was perfectly slow-cooked. They were intensely flavorful with every bite, but not overwhelmingly so, as if it was some skill that had been developed over generations. My father, being the steak aficionado that he is, ordered the filet of beef (Filetto di Manzo). It came tender to knife-cuts, with a red wine reduction that imparted depth and a touch of sweetness. My mother and sister both informed me that it was their highlight bite of the night.
For dessert, all of us shared a serving of tiramisu, since it is difficult not to order it when you see it on the menu. The mascarpone cream and espresso-dipped ladyfingers were smooth and even, neither too sweet nor too bitter. My sister appreciated how light it was compared to richer desserts, and it was the sort of dish that got devoured once everyone had a spoon.
What was most striking about Da Andrea wasn’t the food, but the way that the atmosphere united my family. The closeness of the tables and the heat of the room gave it a communal feel, as if we weren’t merely eating but partaking in something greater. And when I reflected on it afterward, I saw how Roman influence figured prominently in much of what we ate. Romans loved their seafood, and clam pasta and octopus salad were indicative of that Mediterranean heritage. The meat sauce on the tagliatelle was indicative of Rome’s affinity for wheat and slow-cooked meat dishes, which were hallmarks of meals that served to fill them and leave a lasting impression. The filet with wine sauce was a legacy of the Roman heritage of wine and meat cooking together to make it more flavorful and richer. Even tiramisu, which was created so much later, extended the Roman love of layered desserts sweetened with cream or honey. Most of all, though, the way the evening unfolded — plates shared, laughter, going slow together — extended the Roman tradition that dinner was never just about food, but about people and connection.
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