Mille 13 Bistrò Roma — Restaurant in Rome

There's a piece of raw meat in my vegetable salad (it's not bacon)

We are, to say the least, entertained by your response.

The guanciale incident—or what your staff calls “a harmless misunderstanding born of our customer’s ignorance”—has transformed into something far more enlightening: a case study in how national pride can curdle into culinary chauvinism, seasoned with a dash of performative machismo and garnished with a healthy portion of xenophobic condescension.

Let’s break it down, course by course. Shall we?

🧀 Antipasto: The Guanciale Gospel

Ah yes, guanciale: sacred swine, celestial jowl, pig face exalted beyond reproach. The holiest of hogs, served—surprise!—raw in a vegetable salad.

Your claim? "It’s not bacon!" No one said it was. But thank you for the theology lesson. Apparently, in your world, once pork is cured and labeled in Italian, it transcends the laws of food safety and consent.

To be clear: raw pork—yes, even artisanal, sun-kissed, monk-blessed pork—does not belong in a salad unless clearly disclosed. No Latin flourish will change that.

🍝 Primo: The Pantomime of Hurt Feelings

What followed was not an apology, nor a clarification, but an operatic monologue about your feelings. We regret your bafflement, but you seem more upset by being questioned than by the idea of serving undisclosed meat to a guest.

You write, “Why didn’t you say something immediately?” Well, perhaps because not all diners are trained epidemiologists who can detect pork jowl at 20 paces. And because not every guest feels safe confronting a staff that serves side-eye with the side dishes.

🍖 Secondo: The National Stereotyping Special

Let’s talk about that part where you say:

“We've unfortunately noticed a tendency among some of your fellow countrymen…”

Aha. The old blame the foreigner trick. A staple in the proud Italian diet of misplaced deflection. Truly, nothing says “world-class hospitality” like mocking your guests for not asking where the toilet is in fluent Roman dialect.

It's impressive how you manage to position your own communication failures as cultural superiority. In your logic: if a guest doesn’t speak Italian, it’s their fault for being born elsewhere. But don't worry—David is on every street corner to remind us of how glorious things used to be.

🍮 Dolce: A Spoonful of Arrogance

Your finale, like a poorly tempered tiramisu, collapses under its own weight.

You end by commanding us to “Be ashamed.” Not for being rude. Not for lying. Simply for not being Italian enough to eat your mystery pork, question nothing, and smile for the camera.

Incredible. You accuse others of hiding behind screens while crafting a dramatic, emoji-free soliloquy for the internet—a Yelp commedia dell’arte in three acts, starring Chef Gaslighto and Manager Disrespecta.

🍷 Digestivo: A Toast to Your National Theatre

So yes, dear Mille 13, we salute your unwavering devotion to the Church of Guanciale and the Cult of "Respect," where respect is demanded, never earned, and feedback is treason.

We now understand:

Food safety = “Trust me, I’m Italian.”

Accountability = “But… Michelangelo painted ceilings!”

Customer service = “Shut up and admire the prosciutto.”

🧾 Final Course: Our Advice (Since You Gave Yours)

Learn to inform, not scold. Learn to serve, not sermonize. And most of all, learn that hospitality begins with humility—not with heritage.

Until then, we’ll be recommending that travelers enjoy their salads elsewhere—preferably in places where pork comes with a warning, and respect is a shared language, not a national export.

Buon appetito. Or should we say:...

Our trip to Rome. We seen this restaurant online before our travels and was looking forward to dine at the restaurant.

We arrived around 5:30pm and went to the bar to order a drink and ask about the menu. We were met by women behind the bar who told us ... Food not being served? Didn’t explain why? In fact she turned her back to us? So we couldn’t even order a drink?

What is going on here? Who is in charge? Customer service is shocking!

I leave this review to warn others about this place I have never experienced this at any restaurant ever.

We didn’t even get...

Non avrei mai voluto scrivere questa recensione.... Lavoro e fatico al mille13 bistrò, ma più che altro vedo lavorare e faticare tanti ragazzi e ragazze.... Non valuterò il posto ovviamente, sarei di parte.... Ma intendo, seriamente, valutare e comunicare con: chi da tempo si nasconde dietro ad uno schermo e sproloquia contro il lavoro, la fatica, la ricerca di stabilità nell'insicurezza di questi ultimi oramai anni, di tanti ragazzi e ragazze che nulla fanno se non faticare e nascondere la fatica dietro ad un sorriso sincero mostrato costantemente di fronte a chiunque viene accolto nel locale, riaperto da un mese, perché fieri del loro lavoro e consci che lo stesso comprende anche il dovere del sorriso....

Intendo valutare e comunicare quindi, con i soliti profili, anzi con l'unica persona dai molteplici profili, che recensisce, in minor modo dopo le varie segnalazioni dei VERI clienti e dopo le azioni legali intraprese da parte della proprietà, in modo sintetico e schietto:

Chi non rispetta il lavoro e la fatica ti tanti ragazzi e ragazze, merita una stella... Chi ha così tanto tempo libero per accanirsi in tale modo contro giovani che tentano di lavorare facendo solo del loro meglio, merita una stella... Chi dovesse pensare che la chiave di volta comunicativa della propria attività passi attraverso la menzogna e la sistematica falsità merita una stella....

Aspetto risposte e riscontri anche visivi (per una volta almeno), dai vari profili che anche nei mesi di chiusura dell'attività, valutavano mediocri cornetti....

Ricordandovi, o meglio ricordandoti, che la miglior risposta è il silenzio .... Soprattutto per chi la faccia non la può mostrare, non essendone in...