The Roman Food Gods Will Have Their Revenge

On Monday, Una and I threw touristic caution to the wind and gave in to our basest desire as U.S. Americans - the desire to eat hamburgers. We've been dying for some burgers and fries, and we thought if we were gonna go all-American, we better sell out big and hit up the Hard Rock Cafe on Via Veneto. I was silly to think I'd get away with such a foolish move. Not 24 hours later, I was struck down by the Roman food gods, punished with that most unpleasant effect of undercooked meat - food poisoning. That burger was apparently destined to put me out of commission from the very first mouth watering bite.

I'll tell you what, it has not been a pleasant couple of days, folks, but I'm finally feeling a bit better. What I've learned from this: trust your tourist guilt, and stay out of the burger joints . . . especially the spectacle that is themed chain restaurants. Anything cooked in the shadow of Elton John's 'Crocodile Rock' suit and gigantic glasses should be eaten with scrutiny, if at all.

Image top right (found here): Ceiling at the Hard Rock in Rome. Note: Rock n Roll putti do not ensure safe meal passage.