Five Bars in Rome That Made Me Feel Like A Local

Rome will humble you fast. Not with its monuments; those you can still prep for.

What gets you is the drinking culture: its 4pm and the locals are already on their first Campari. You are already late.

Here's what took me an embarrassingly long time to understand: Rome has an almost absurd density of bars. Not clubs, not cocktail lounges — bars, in the Italian sense, which means the same place serves espresso at 7am, a cornetto at 8, a quick lunch-hour wine at 1pm, and then flips into aperitivo mode around 6 and doesn't really stop until midnight.

Romans treat their local bar the way people in other cities treat their living room. There's a possessiveness to it that's entirely unsentimental. The bartender knows what you're having. The table outside is implicitly yours if you got there first. Nobody is dressed up. Nobody is particularly trying. The spritz costs €3.50. And that’s just how the Romans do it.

Bars in Rome

These are the five places that actually taught me how Rome drinks. Also, when in doubt, head to Trastevere.

Freni e Frizoni — Trastevere

The name means "brakes and clutches." The building used to be a mechanic's workshop. Tucked off in Piazza Trilussa, the bar is completely utilitarian and unpolished.  It appears on the World's 50 Best Bars list, and yet when you walk in, it truly doesn’t seem like it at first. The taps run spritz and craft beer, but the cocktail list — which rotates every few months — is where the bartenders are clearly having fun. The Ppap is a Daiquiri riff with pineapple, apple, and warming spices. For an extra €3, you eat from the aperitivo buffet: bruschetta, salads, pasta. Go there, and let the mixologist recommend you one of their crazy cocktails depends on what your taste profile is, and you won’t regret it.

Jerry Thomas Speakeasy — Centro Storico

You get the password off their website, but it changes quite often. The unmarked bar sits in an unremarkable side street. You buzz the door, say the word, and enter a room done up in full 1920s Prohibition theatre: there’s floral wallpaper, tasseled lamps, velvet couches.

The Blue Blazer is excellent. If you've skipped dessert, get the Gingerbread — bourbon, biscuit liquor, ginger syrup, chocolate, and a sweet marsala foam. But the one to order is The Grinch: tequila, lime, pepper bitters, vanilla foam, and a candy cane for garnish.

The room is small and fills up fast. Go early or accept that you're waiting outside on a side street!

Enoteca il Goccetto — Campo de' Fiori

More than 850 wines live in this room, floor to ceiling, in a space that has apparently decided to exist outside of time. There are 17th-century panels in the ceiling, modern art on the walls.

The by-the-glass selection changes daily and lives on a chalkboard: around 24 reds and whites, Prosecco, spirits. Natural labels from Italy and France feature prominently. In winter, the place feels like shelter. In summer, it overflows onto the sidewalk, drinks balanced on Vespas and car hoods.

L'Oratorio Trastevere — Trastevere

A tiny square, a few wobbly tables, Aperol Spritzes that keep coming, fairy lights as the sun goes down. L'Oratorio operates within the courtyard of the Church of Santa Maria in Cappella — a Romanesque structure from 1090, during the pontificate of Urban II. The bar is tucked between Piazza dei Mercanti and Via Augusto Jandolo, a few minutes from Tiber Island.

There’s literally no pretense here. Just a few tables under the fairy lights, inside a courtyard, and the Romans doing what Romans do best: having a good f**king time.

Bar San Calisto — Trastevere

Romans will tell you Bar San Calisto is as iconic as the Colosseum.  The house red comes in a carafe and costs about €3. It's poured into tiny tumblers. The Campari spritz is cold and correct. The Peroni arrives in big, ice-cold jugs. Bar snacks are chips and salted peanuts, maybe a maritozzo or a tramezzino if you get there early enough to catch the morning leftovers.

At any given hour, Bar San Calisto holds a cross-section of the neighborhood that no amount of deliberate "authentic" bar design could manufacture: gray-haired men playing cards next to university students next to someone on what is clearly a first date.  Sit outside. Watch the piazza. Drink your €3 wine. There’s no other experience that’ll make you feel like a “true local”.