After a fortnight's foraging in Naples, we will risk the melancholy statement that there are no superlative haunts for the gastronome here, as there are in Rome, Florence, Milan and Bologna. One might as well be philosophical about it and seek the next best, which is commendable indeed. There are a few dining places where the gourmet should be reasonably happy. One of them is the RlSTORANTE D'ANGELO, on the Via Aniello Falcone, high above the hubbub of the lower city. It is the most publicized place in Naples, and you may have received a post card of its beaming proprietor, Signor Attolini, sprinkling herbs on a pizza or dangling his magic golden horn. They flutter across the ocean in flocks daily. We were more interested in Signor Attolini's kitchen than his publicity, and found it to bean immaculate, roomy, efficient place whose large plate-glass window competed in interest with the breath-taking view of the Bay of Naples. The latter won out, however. The lights of the City stretch out beneath you, the silhouette of Vesuvius, a thin wisp of smoke rising from its cone, looms up behind, and beyond that the steep Amalfi peninsula and the dim, rocky silhouette of Capri. Of course it's romantic and heady. Of course you must have soft music and a moon, light wine and dancing on a tiled terrace. D'AngeIo provides all this (not guaranteeing the moon), and a sound menu for the unromantic few who are interested in good groceries alone. For them he proposes, in addition to his pizza al regreto, a rich filet de sole d'Oltremare or a truly sumptuous zuppa di pasco. The steaks are good and so are the agnelotti alla d'Angelo, a savory oversized ravioli.
In the summertime you will find another place within a stone's throw of d'Angelo called LE ARCATE, with even more tiled space for dancing and even a closer view of the teeming city below. The cooking is commendable here also, and we were particularly struck with the hors-d'oeuvre. These arc often too heavily charged with oil in Italian restaurants. Hut the antipasto at Le Arcate had more of the suavity of the Frencha succession of rectangular dishes containing onions à la grecque, peppers, pickles, mushrooms, mussels, shrimp, artichokes, tuna fish, sardines, anchovies. olives, stuffed eggs, sausage, ham and many others.
If you are seeking an even more breath-taking view, however, you can reach dizzier heights by trying the RISTORANTE RENZO E LUCIA on the Via San Martina This exalted spot, adjoining the Castel St. Elmo, literally hangs over the city as though you were in a plane about to land at the Cappedichino airport. The panorama from this terrace is spine-tingling, the food is acceptable, and the service friendly.
The ship-borne traveler finds himself not on the heights, though, but close to the heart of Naples, in the region of the famous glassed-in Galleria, the San Carlo Opera House, the Royal Palace. Prospects for gastronomic felicity arc rather forlorn here. We feel that the best bet is DA GIACOMINO, on the Via San Carlo. This is a conventional Naples sidewalk restaurant, but its standards are high and a better-than-average meal lurk; behind its cryptic menu. One of the best-known Neapolitan special- ties, spaghetti alle vongole, awaits you here. These miniature clams, hardly more than half an inch long when out of their shell, have two necks stretching out in a Churchillian V. We found this most irregular, but it had no effect upon the taste of the tomato and vongole sauce, which was delicious.
POMPEII
The citizens of the prosperous city of Pompeii had grown accustomed to the [lumbering giant of Vesuvius. In the year 79 A.D. they were totally unprepared for the mighty outburst of smoke, gas, cinders and gravel which burst without warning from its Crater, descending upon the city and snuffing out much of the population. This tragedy had the compensation of preserving for posterity, intact and in intimate detail, an entire Roman city. For centuries Pompeii slumbered under a twenty-foot blanket of cinders. Not until 1594, when a subterranean canal was begun, did anyone suspect the secret of Pompeii. Excavations are still going on today. This Greek and Roman city is the most extraordinary phenomenon in Campania, and becomes more so with every spadeful of cinders removed. It can be reached easily from Naples by an electric train, or by a miniature motor toll highway. The one drawback to Pompeii is the pack of parasites and buttonholers who leap at the helpless tourist, offering him albums of naughty fiescoes and phony antique jewelry. It takes fortitude to elbow your way through them to a reliable guide. The gastronomic pitch is a low one. Waiters (lag your car down with napkins, run after you with shouts of “Pas chert” Once hooked on the restaurant terrace, you must engage in a battle of wits with a head waiter whose overwhelming desire is to unload on his prey the most expensive prix fixe menu and the rarest bottle of Lacrima Christi. It is possible to obtain a sane and simple luncheon in Pompeii, but you have to get in there and slug for it. A simpler solution would be to equip yourself with a discreet box lunch of bread, cheese, sausage, fruit and a fiasco of Chianti, and enjoy it in a remote corner of some forgotten Pompeiian villa.
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