The Good, Bad and Ugly (Part II: Deep Dive & Secret Sauce)

 The Good, Bad and Ugly 
        (Part II: Deep Dive & Secret Sauce)                                            

Waiting in Line to Descend

      By this point, we’d trod far enough, as recounted in Part I, “Getting There.”  With each footfall, the stone’s contours, rising to meet us, took shape in the soles of our shoes.  Liver spots and calluses aside, they offered no resistance.  Even the white hair on my arms, caught in the rhythm of our lively pace, had streamlined to our momentum.

      Napoli Sotterranea (The Naples Underground) was just ahead, tucked away in an opening along the narrow street of Piazza San Gaetano.  Beneath the city’s surface, a hidden layer of Naples’ rich history quietly waited.  Tours of Napoli Sotterranea lead visitors down below the bustling streets to explore ancient Greek cisterns and Roman marketplaces.

But first, if a personal confession may be allowed, I have something to share.  The hard truth is I could never have been a submariner — I don’t do well in small spaces.  I confirmed this conviction years ago while wading through Hezekiah’s 1,700-foot-long water tunnel in the City David, Jerusalem. That passage had only been two feet wide and at times five feet high.  It felt like an endless eternity.  Our only light came from the faint glow of tiny key-chain penlights, which, thankfully, we’d chanced to buy beforehand.  The saving grace of this wet, cave-like experience was that we couldn’t get lost, the exit was out there, somewhere, straight ahead.

Here in Naples, we joined the line for the English guided tour and soon began a descent 130 feet into an otherworldly space, a hidden world carved out of tufa rock by the Greeks as early as 400 BC, using Samnite workers.  Well-suited for the job (no punintended), these ‘stone moles’ often hailed from 

Dangling Amphora Over One of Many
Underground Cisterns

 the same families, selected for their climbing ability, compact size, strength, and agility.  We had entered part of a vast complex network of underground passageways and cisterns.

The purpose of the system was to provide a source of fresh water for the ever-burgeoning city.  Many of these reservoirs once existed, and everyone relied on them―the Romans drew water using amphoras, centuries later, the Spanish with buckets.    Over the years, as the city grew, the network expanded as rivers were diverted to feed the system.  It was so large, in fact, that people could lose themselves in its labyrinth of corridors. 

In time, these ancient cisterns took on new roles beyond their original purpose.  History records 

Archived Photo of Residents
Taking Shelter

instances when this underground network was used by invaders to make their way undetected into fortified areas.  Centuries later, during World War II, the tunnels were used defensively as air raid shelters.  Their depth made them ideal places for civilians seeking refuge.  Naples, the most heavily Allied-bombed Italian city during the war, endured more than 200 carpet bombings over four years of the war, including 180 air raids in 1943.¹  The most intense attacks came when the Allies landed to the south of Naples, along the beaches at Paestum and Salerno, in 1943.  Our guide described how families huddled in the dark, cavernous spaces during those terrifying times.  By then, the cisterns had dried up, and the old wellheads were being used as dumps for household trash.  Yet, in their desperate search for safety, the people of Naples inadvertently uncovered layers of their city’s past, unearthing 3,000 years of buried history. 

Stone benches, hewned directly into the walls, were relics of another time and a silent reminder of 

the people who once sat there, seeking safety.  For added gravitas, gas masks and defused bombs crowded a corner.  Scattered children’s toys added to the realism and eeriness.  At one point, after a brief explanation of what lay ahead, our group was given the option to sit out the next part of the tour.  Bob and I, for reasons still unclear, decided to forge ahead.  Maria Elena and Adrienne, more sensibly, chose to stay behind and await our return.  That’s when things got dicey—a spelunking expedition ensued reminiscent of the Hezekiah tunnel, a deep dive indeed, though absent the rapid water at our feet.

The Proverbial Light at
Tunnel's End

Not many turns later, the passage narrowed dramatically.  It was like stepping into the trash compactor scene from Star Wars.  The walls closed in, and I mean really closed in.  I had to turn to squeeze through the tightest openings, awkwardly shuffling sideways in a duck-walk style, my feet slanted as best I could because my size 11 shoes were too long to fit while straight.    With my cellphone in hand, thankfully well charged, I used its flashlight to guide me through the dark.  I quickly realized I did not  have the ideal physique of a Samnite tunnel mole!  By then, I’d had enough and needed to surface. 

A few cisterns later and as promised we rendezvoused with the 'stayed behind' group.  Maria Elena and Adrienne were seated and rested.  While I may have looked OK, you couldn't discern that my spelunking days were at an end.  We soon emerged from the deep shadows of the underground to materialize back in Piazza San Gaetano.  

Surfacing from the Depths of Naples

Back in the present, a restaurant was conveniently located in the square.  Hungry, going on weary, we took our seats at an outdoor table.  When the waiter arrived, instead of menus, he handed us small cards containing QR codes.  I’ll be frank: I can’t stand the remote, inhospitable, and impersonal idea of QR codes, an unwelcome cousin of texting!  The waiter, to his credit, kindly offered to help, but I led the charge to leave.  At that moment, what we craved was not QR tech, but warm, authentic local food, hearty portions, a relaxed atmosphere, and affordable prices.  As it turned out, leaving may have been a stroke of luck.  Just across Via dei Tribunali, we spotted Antica Trattoria da Carmine.  Had we stayed put, we might never have discovered this unassuming eatery where we would shortly connect with the traditional food of Naples.

 Antica Trattoria da Carmine was founded in 1967 by Carmine Romano, the patriarch of the family.  His culinary journey began humbly, selling wine from his kitchen in Somma Vesuviana, a town just north of  Mount Vesuvius, where the 

Streetside at Antica Trattoria da Carmine

volcano's slope reaches

La Famiglia Carmine

 level ground.  Today, despite being nestled in a touristy area (but isn’t all of Naples a bit touristy?), it remains a family-run gem. Carmine’s children and grandchildren now carry on his legacy, serving up traditional Neapolitan cuisine with pride and heart.  From the moment we stepped inside, we were welcomed like old friends, not just guests.  Nothing like a typical restaurant experience in the States, we were embraced in the warmth of a large Italian family, sharing in the joy of home-cooked, deeply rooted Neapolitan dishes.

Behind its street-side facade, this charming, restaurant stretches all the way back to the kitchen.  It's simple, shoe box shape is far more spacious than it first appears.  Guests can sit outdoors, soaking in the lively energy of the street, or head inside to a larger, cozier dining space.  Inside, tables line both sides of a central aisle that, following a few stairs, leads to a slightly elevated area with additional seating.  The interior design is warm and rustic, complemented with wooden tables and chairs, colorful tablecloths, and vintage décor with family photos that speak to generations of tradition.  

While exploring the interior, I came upon a long table in a corner by the register filled with family members of all ages: children on mother’s laps, others, big enough for chairs, on their knees forking in mouth loads of pasta, seniors overlooking the brood.  Likely reserved and comped, it was a family anointed area, marked by an overhead photo featuring two of Carmines grandsons, twins, one clearly a mischief-maker from his sign of greeting.

Just Maybe, the Second from the Right Twin Confused His Fingers!

     Our waiter, Maurizio, turned out to be Carmine’s mischief-maker grandson in the photo, a fitting continuation of the family legacy.  The menu he provided featured a variety of genuine Neapolitan dishes, the description of each more tempting than the last.  While the chef's specialty is a fillet of  

Involtino

beef with Parmesan, rocket, and cherry tomatoes, there were plenty of other standout choices: Patate e Provola (pasta with potatoes and smoked provolone), Paccheri ai Carciofi e Polpo (large tube-shaped pasta with artichokes and octopus), Ziti alla Carmine, Zucchine alla Scapece (marinated fried zucchini), and their famous Neapolitan Ragù.  No counterfeits here.  Our favorite, though, was the Parmigiana di Melanzane  (Eggplant Parm), so delicious that we returned the next 

Our Favorite, Eggplant Parmigiana

 day just to enjoy it again.

We found ourselves wondering aloud why everything tasted so unbelievably good.  Maurizio insisted it was the sugo—the rich, slow-cooked sauce (or gravy, if you prefer)—that made all the difference.  This led to an impromptu visit to the kitchen, where vats of sugo bubbled away atop six-burner stoves.  The aroma in that room was intoxicating—honestly, if I could bottle it as an aerosol, I’d be a millionaire.  The truth is, no Italian restaurant in the States can come close to replicating what we tasted there.  Between the food and the wine of Italy, we've officially become Italian food snobs—and unapologetically so.   

Maurizio Shows Me the Secret Sauce!

     On this outing, as Italian composer Ennio Morricone had put it, we’d experienced The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.  But Da Carmine was all good—exceptionally good.  For anyone with an adventurous spirit (and aappetite), the journey is worth it just to eat there.  That said, choose your pamphlets (reference to Part I)—and your underground passageways (Part II)—wisely.  Naples, in all its edgy grit and raw humanity, is a true, never-forgotten discovery. 

To the yonder and what's next.

From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo

1.   The Four Days of Naples,  A Reflection on World War II in Honor of Ukrainians, Danielle Oteri, Mar 06, 2022, https://www.danielleoteri.com/p/the-four-days-of-naples