Let others go to Rome for the Sistine Chapel or a romantic fling. I went for something even more sensual -- to taste the Jewish food of Rome.

Friends had been teasing me with scintillating descriptions of one dish in particular, the carciofi alla guidea -- a flattened and fried artichoke -- long enough. I needed to do more than taste and smell this carciofi; I was feeling the need to truly own it.

Finding the Jewish ghetto was confusing. Unlike in Disneyland, the neighborhoods of Rome are not so clearly marked and, luckily for the Jews, the walls came down in 1870 with Italy's unification. We rambled over one night from the Campo di Fiori and fell upon the ghetto's ancient, narrow alleyways and crumbling buildings entirely by accident. Kids were chasing each other in the streets, parents were kibbitzing on the sidewalk, a storefront offered kosher pizza, and the plaintive voice of a woman singing antique Neapolitan love songs wafted over from the ruins that still are the Theater of Marcellus. It was pure magic.

Make It! Try Carciofi Alla Giudia the hard way, by using this recipe from The Book of Jewish Food: An Odyssey from Samarkand to New York, by Claudia Roden.

We began eating in earnest at Al Pompiere, a popular spot on the second floor of the 15th century palazzo Cenci. Since the restaurant has been written up quite a few times -- the ghetto is small, and there are only a few good restaurants there -- the crowd is heavily touristic and the waiters a tad surly. This became apparent when I ordered the famed carciofi and our waitperson rolled his eyes and coolly declared, "Non possible."

"Okay," I wailed inwardly, "it is the middle of the summer, I traveled 6000 miles to be in Rome, in the heart of the Jewish quarter, and this man is telling me I can't taste the carciofi." I let the rest of the menu calm me down.