Rome for The Food Pilgrims: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

Pizza bianca from the oven, folded in paper and eaten on the step outside; the bakery has been here since 1824 and the queue is quick.

A wine bar in a sixteenth-century shop with the bottles up to the ceiling, a plate of cheese, and a glass of whatever the owner opens.

Carciofi alla giudia in the ghetto's grand old dining room, in business since 1860; order the artichokes and the fried courgette flowers.

The producers' market as it opens: the cheese counter, the chickpea man, the butcher who supplies the quinto quarto trattorias, and a coffee at the bar.

Three hours in the old air terminal rolling tonnarelli and fettuccine with a Roman cook, then eating them with the wine you have been pouring.

The home of the quinto quarto, in a cellar dug into the hill of broken amphorae: oxtail, tripe and a cellar that goes back to 1887.

The farmers' market behind the Circus Maximus, open Sunday: pecorino romano from the Agro, olive oil, porchetta, and a stall of Roman puntarelle.

Tonnarelli cacio e pepe mixed at the table since 1936, the city's dish done the way the city argues about it; book, even for lunch.

The serious dinner, among the cheese and cured meats of Rome's best deli; the carbonara is the reference, the burrata the beginning.

The maritozzo with cream, from a family pastry shop since 1916; two, because you are leaving, with a coffee at the counter.

The largest covered market in the city, two hundred stalls behind the Vatican walls, where the Prati housewives and the chefs shop.

Gabriele Bonci's pizza al taglio, cut with scissors and eaten standing at a shelf outside; the Cipro metro to the airport train is next door.