Bar Latteria - Bar and "Milk Store" - What's Up?

Latteria? Having spent 2 months each year in Rome for more than 2 decades, we had seen the word hundreds of times, often in combination with Bar, as in "Bar Latteria," or with Caffè, as in "Caffè Latteria," or even, curiously, with Cocktails, as in "Cocktails Latteria," And we knew enough to know that a "latteria" meant a "milk shop" or a "milk store." OK. But one can buy milk at the supermarket or at any mini-market. So what's the deal with the "latteria"?

Through conversations with our Roman friends, we pieced together the story of the Roman latteria.  

It was the consensus that the Bar Latteria (above) located in the large via Catania public market (in the orbit of Piazza Bologna), 150 vendor stalls, was "authentic." One could downplay the "Bar" part of the name, if only because the market itself closes for the day at about 1 p.m. No late afternoon Campari Spritz to be served here, although, as the bottles on the shelf would suggest, you can still get an a.m. Scotch.

A "milk board" posted outside (photo below), listing milk products that seemed to be unusual, also lends the place an air of authenticity. Then we learned that those milk products weren't so unusual—in fact they could be purchased at any supermarket, or even down the street at the mini-market. So much for authenticity.

It was not long before the very concept of authenticity was undermined. And that brings us to the history of the Latteria, insofar as we know it. A friend and professional chauffeur, who drives us to and from the airport, grew up in the 1970s in San Lorenzo—Scalo San Lorenzo to be precise. He remembers picking up milk for the family at the neighborhood latteria—one of about 4 in San Lorenzo at the time, as he recalls. He also remembers that in those days there was a central latteria in Rome, a distribution center from which all the city's latterie (the Italian plural of latteria) were supplied. 

It's unlikely that the signage of this Bar Latteria on via dei Sabelli in today's San Lorenzo dates to the 1970s—we think the term "Snack Bar" is a more recent invention. In the mornings it's full of mothers who have dropped their kids off at the school just down the block.

The first coffee bar we tried in San Lorenzo was a traditional establishment on Piazza dei Sanniti. Later we noticed a sign on the via dei Volsci side of the caffè. Missing the "L," it reads "atteria" (below the word "BAR").We asked the barista, a man in his 70s, if the bar was a latteria. "Not for a long time," he replied. I asked how long it had been since it was, in fact, a latteria. "Cinquant'anni" was his answer—dating the end of its days as a latteria to the mid-1970s. Indeed, the city's latterias ceased to exist as legal entities in 1975.

Before 1975—how far back we don't know, yet—milk distribution in Rome (and doubtless other cities) was regulated for health purposes. Milk was available only through licensed vendors—the latterias. When it became clear that this regulatory regime was no longer necessary, the latteria as a legal entity ceased to exist. That was, as the barista—and our driver—confirmed, almost 50 years ago. The year was 1975.

Even then, latterie didn't just disappear. The "milk store" was by then a tradition, and milk stores continued to exist, and even to open anew. This latteria, on via Tiburtina in San Lorenzo, was—according to its window signage—founded in 1980, 5 years after the law changed.

In our fall, 2025 Re di Roma neighborhood, a small, old sign suggests that a coffee shop we frequent, Anima Nera (Black Soul), was once a latteria:

The latteria survives in the memories of Romans, and in the signs of an earlier era. So, stop into your local milk store—and have a Jack Daniels. 

Bill 

In Search of the 1950s: The Aqua-Blue Building on via Bari

 

We lived this year just a few blocks from one of my favorite modernist Rome buildings. Romans might call it "particolare"--one of a kind, sui generis, unique, maybe odd. You'll find it at via Bari 5, corner of via Rovigo, just a few blocks uphill along via Catania from Piazzale delle Provincie, one of two large circular piazze in the Piazza Bologna area. 

Same building, via Bari 5, from the less than 90 degree corner with via Rovigo -
 a very different look, no camera tricks employed.

he palazzina, in the mid-century-modern style, was constructed between 1958, when Jerry Lee Lewis's "Great Balls of Fire" was #1on the US charts, and 1961, when teens were doing the "Twist" to Chubby Checker's hit song. In architecture, post-modernism had yet to assert itself as the next wave, but architects everywhere were experimenting with forms that went beyond the severe rectilinear modernism of the 1930s and 1940s (a good example of that sort of modernism is Rome's university--La Sapienza, nearby). The late 1950s and 1960s were also decades in which architects and planners experimented with buildings and other structures that were elevated--in the US, "skyways"--elevated highways--were the rage, and in Rome, planners decided to place the "sopraelevata" [1966-1975] down the center of Scalo San Lorenzo (a 15-minute walk from via Bari 5). 

Above, the sopraelevata from the street.

Architect Renato Valle framed the via Bari building in aqua-blue glass (now an iconic 1950s color), and used the less-than-90-degree corner at via Rovigo to give his structure an angular shape that defined the rectilinear tradition. And it's elevated. Today, under the building, there's a gas station. Significantly, the building is owned by, and houses offices of, Enerpetroli, a company that operates 150 gas stations in central Italy. 

Unfortunately, I have been unable to find other information about architect Valle. If you can contribute, please do!

Bill 

The Mural on Scalo San Lorenzo: Reading the Politics of the Neighborhood

 

Of San Lorenzo's many murals, none captures the community's history of in-your-face, leftist politics--at one time the product of the neighborhood's working class, now of a newer population of university students--than the street-level monster on Scalo San Lorenzo. The street can be dark and foreboding, having been victimized by a 1960-era elevated highway running down its center, but it was central to the area's development and character. To the south and east lie a maze of railroad tracks that at one time were crucial to the area's commercial development; Scalo, a word that defies precise definition, has some relationship to loading and unloading--it's likely related to the English word, "scale." 

About fifty feet long and accomplished mostly in grey tones, the mural is a complex political statement of the ideas that currently motivate San Lorenzo's residents, generally, and particularly those in the social space and organization that occupies the space at Scalo San Lorenzo, #33, behind the mural and was, apparently, responsible for it: COMMUNIA. Created a few years ago, COMMUNIA (see below the photo of the bus in the mural) is a feminist movement, mutual assistance organization, and a laboratory for experimenting with modes of production, and culture, that lie outside the marketplace. 

As a feminist movement, it works against workplace harassment (le molestie) and other injustices; the driver of the #19 bus (today, replacing the tram on via dei Reti while work is done on the tracks far away in Parioli, it is central to the area's transportation network) is a woman with fist raised (looking a bit like the Statue of Liberty), but it's noteworthy that the mural does not attack patriarchy or men in general. The section of the mural at right foregrounds the role of women and the community's need for green space and public services. I have not been able to figure out who L. Blissett was or is. 

[Nota bene: an anonymous reader explained that L. Blissett was Luther Blissett, a "multiple use name" shared by artists and activists in Europe and elsewhere since 1994. That is, there is no individual artist named Luther Blissett. He (named after a soccer player) is a community "myth" and a community project. For more--much more--see the entry "Luther Blissett" in Wikipedia, at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luther_Blissett_(pseudonym).]

Among the issues the mural raises are gentrification and the proliferation of Airbnbs that have raised rents and driven out residents, especially older ones ("poor people leave quietly," says the mural).

Increasingly, the area is unable to support traditional business; there is no classic Roman deli, no dedicated bakery (although there is one attached to a bar), only two orto-fruttas (fruits and vegetables) and one 72-year-old butcher with a very limited array of meats.

The source of the problem, the mural tells us, is money ("Rich Uncle" Pennybags, the figure from the game Monopoly) and developers, represented here by grotesque machinery, part metal/part skeletal animal. "Fight power not people," is the phrase on the front of the bus (photo showing bus, above). 

San Lorenzo values equality. OMNIA SUNT COMMUNIA, a well-known phrase from the Latin, translates as "all things are to be held in common." And it values inclusivity: "No Borders"/"A San Lorenzo Nessuno E' Un Straniero" [at San Lorenzo, no one is a stranger]. 

The mural also includes at least two aspects of the community's physical presence: the Sopra-Elevata (the elevated highway that runs down Scalo San Lorenzo) and the neighborhood's graffiti, represented here in the signature of GECO (high up on the mural) and the painter Hogre.

Bill 

 

Rome's only beer garden: the ex-dogana

In Rome, you're never more than 2 minutes from a cold beer; after all, it's available in any "coffee" bar.  But if you're looking to have your brew in a spot that's more unusual--and maybe stroll through an art exhibit--you can't do better than the ex-dogana (ex-customs house), a sprawling complex of buildings recently converted into an arts and entertainment center.

The ex-dogana is located about 100 yards from Piazza Porta Maggiore, which is more or less at the far end of Stazione Termini (the main train station) and at the confluence of three quartiere: Esquilino, Pigneto, and one of the city's centers of youth nighttime social life, San Lorenzo.  The entrance to the ex-dogana is on viale Scalo San Lorenzo, which runs northwest off Porta Maggiore.  The Scalo is an odd street that can feel threating, because it's busy, noisy, divided by a tram in the middle, and covered and darkened by an elevated highway.  You could be in Brooklyn in 1955.  Anyway, if you exit Porta Maggiore (hopefully without getting run over) and hew to the right (east) side of the Scalo, you can't miss the entrance to the ex-dogana.  Just walk in.

On the left, ahead, is a large parking lot.  On the right, the first thing you'll see is an enclosed courtyard, the site of special events (participatory sports, milling around, music) for which there is
usually a fee.  This area seems to appeal to younger folks.

But if it's beer you want, keep going a few yards, then up a short flight of steps on the right.  You're there!



The beer is all draft, served in plastic cups, a bit pricey (beer is oddly expensive in Rome)--E6 is what we recall.  Hey, you're paying for the space!  There's food, too.  The food stands are made from shipping containers.

You're in Rome's only dedicated beer garden (there are some outdoor spaces attached to pubs). The "garden" was produced at considerable effort, by importing dozens of large potted trees.  It worked, creating any number of inviting spaces to sit and sip.  It's partly covered.  We thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere, unique for Rome. It's called the "Bosco Urbano" - Urban Forest, and is a project of Rome's La Sapienza University.  It's considered a "temporary" forest - so we're not sure how long it will be up, nor if the beer stations are there all the time. 

That's Dianne, looking contemplative. 

We liked the view too, especially to the north, where the elevated Circonvallazione Tiburtina swoops to ground with post-industrial flair. 

On the other side, a game area: foosball and ping pong.  Not much action at the moment.  The building on the other side of the game area has been the site of large art exhibitions.

At the near end of the platform (where you came in), you'll find a large open space with plants and tables, and the entrance to an interior space that houses a cafeteria, a bookstore, and a small art gallery.

On the day we were there, the gallery was hosting an exhibit by the painter Luca Grimaldi, whose work features consumer objects (such as items on a grocery store self, or racks of magazines).

Congrats, Roma, on this great new space!

Bill