It’s often the case that it’s only when you move away from a place that you appreciate the finest things about it, which until then you’d either been ignorant of, or had taken for granted. Such was the case with Romanas in Ferryhill.
Being a teenage snob (with absolutely zero justification) I never went to Romanas while I actually lived in Ferryhill. Once I’d reached the age of going to restaurants on my own (i.e. without my parents) it was always Durham or Darlington that I turned to, Romanas being the provider of the occasional takeaway pizza. (Though I preferred chips from the Frying Pan after a session in the Post Boy or the Club, consumed sitting by the plate glass window while watching the Friday night fights in the market place, or on the hoof staggering down the hill to Osborne Terrace).
No, it wasn’t till I went to university and came back for Christmas with a new (-ish) girlfriend in tow that I decided to treat her to Ferryhill’s only Italian restaurant. In fact possibly Ferryhill’s only restaurant at that time.
To be honest I can’t remember what we ate – it was a long time ago and I was very drunk (it being Christmas Eve). I do remember that the garlic bread was very good and that the wine was Frascati from proper kinky-necked bottles.
What a fool I was never to have stepped inside before.
To see other restaurants I’ve been to (possibly near you!) go to the GoogleMap …
Blue Badge guide to London and academic specialising in early twentieth century history. Blogging on history, academia, and food and culture in the capital (and occasionally elsewhere).