Lazio Techniques

Bruschetta is toasted bread rubbed with raw garlic, drenched in your best extra virgin olive oil, and finished with ripe tomatoes. The bread is everything — a wide-crumbed, substantial loaf like pane di Altamura or a Tuscan salt-free pane sciocco. The tomatoes should be in peak season. The olive oil should be peppery, green, and freshly pressed if possible. This is not a canape — it is a meal when done correctly.

Three ingredients. One technique. Infinite precision. Tonnarelli or spaghetti, Pecorino Romano DOP, and black pepper. The sauce is not a sauce — it is an emulsion formed in real time between pasta starch water, cheese fat, and black pepper oils. Nothing is added except technique.

Saltimbocca alla Romana: thin veal escalope, sage leaf, prosciutto di Parma, sauteed in butter and finished with white wine. The name means jumps in the mouth — referring to the speed with which it should be eaten and the way the flavours arrive simultaneously. The veal, sage, and prosciutto are secured together and cooked as one unified piece, not as separate elements that happen to share a plate.

The definitive carbonara. Guanciale — not pancetta, not bacon — rendered slowly until the edges crisp and the fat is translucent. Egg yolks and whole egg whisked with Pecorino Romano DOP (never Parmigiano — carbonara is a Roman dish, and Romans use Pecorino). The pasta water is the emulsifier. The heat is off when the egg meets the pasta. Everything about this dish is timing.

Cacio e Pepe is the intellectual apex of Roman pasta cookery — a dish of three ingredients (pasta, Pecorino Romano, black pepper) that demands precise technique to achieve its defining characteristic: a smooth, creamy sauce that coats every strand without a single lump of clumped cheese. It is a dish that appears simple and punishes arrogance. The dish originates with the shepherds of the Roman campagna, who would carry dried pasta, aged sheep's cheese, and pepper on their transhumance — seasonal migrations between summer and winter grazing grounds. These were the most shelf-stable and high-calorie provisions available. The combination, heated with a little pasta water, produced nourishment in any weather. Its modern Roman form developed in the trattorias of Testaccio and Trastevere in the 20th century, refined from rustic simplicity into a technically demanding restaurant preparation. The emulsion technique is the entire challenge. Pecorino Romano, aged and intensely salty, is grated extremely finely — almost to a powder — and combined with a small amount of cold water to form a paste before any heat is applied. This hydrates the cheese proteins and begins to loosen them. Black pepper is toasted whole in a dry pan until aromatic, then cracked coarsely — size matters, as fine powder disappears and coarse chunks are too aggressive. The pasta (tonnarelli or spaghetti) is cooked in less water than usual to concentrate the starch content of the cooking water. The critical moment: pasta is transferred to the pan with toasted pepper (no oil), a ladleful of hot starchy cooking water added, and the heat killed or reduced to barely warm. The cheese paste is then worked in, adding cooking water teaspoon by teaspoon, and the pasta is agitated — tossed or stirred — continuously until the sauce emulsifies into a glossy, flowing cream. If the pan is too hot when cheese is added, the proteins seize into hard granules. The result, when correctly executed, should sheet off the back of a spoon as a thin, creamy, perfectly uniform sauce.

Amatriciana is the sauce that perhaps most defines the Roman table — though it was born not in Rome but in Amatrice, a mountain town in the Apennines of Lazio, and the citizens of Amatrice guard its integrity with fierce civic pride. The town's name and the dish itself became tragically linked in the public consciousness after the devastating 2016 earthquake destroyed much of Amatrice, making the dish an act of solidarity as much as culinary tradition. The original amatriciana — gricia — was a pasta of guanciale (cured pig's cheek), Pecorino, and black pepper, with no tomato. When tomatoes arrived from the Americas in the 16th century and were adopted in Lazio, they were incorporated into the sauce, and by the 18th century the tomato-enriched version had migrated to Rome, where it became a permanent fixture of the trattoria canon. The pasta format is rigorously debated: Amatrice insists on spaghetti, while Rome traditionally uses bucatini or tonnarelli. The technique begins with guanciale rendered in its own fat until golden and slightly crisp at the edges — never fully crunchy — then removed from the pan. A small amount of dry white wine deglazes the fat. Whole San Marzano tomatoes are crushed and added, cooked to a thick, concentrated sauce. The guanciale returns, and the sauce reduces together until unctuous. No onion, no garlic, no basil — the canon is strict. The pasta is cooked al dente and finished in the pan with the sauce, then plated and finished with a generous grating of Pecorino Romano. The quality of the guanciale is determinative. Good guanciale has a sweet, slightly gamey depth that pancetta cannot replicate — the jowl's particular fat composition melts into silk rather than separating into droplets.

Carbonara without eggs and cheese is an act of creative interpretation — the original, made exclusively with guanciale, eggs, Pecorino Romano, and black pepper, is one of the least adaptable classics in Italian cooking. A vegan version should not attempt to reproduce carbonara directly but to create a dish that achieves the same textural and flavour goals through different means: a silky, savoury, fatty coating on pasta with contrasting crispy-smoky bits and black pepper heat. The approach: cashews soaked and blended with nutritional yeast, miso, garlic, and pasta water achieve the silky, savoury coating; smoked tofu or mushroom bacon (thin-sliced mushrooms dried until chewy and crisped in oil with smoked paprika) provides the textural contrast. The result is not carbonara — it is a vegan pasta with a silky umami sauce, which is excellent on its own terms and should be framed as such.

Source the Sus scrofa domesticus jowl-neck cut (guancia): the masseter-neck anatomy at 60–70% fat-to-lean ratio, whole weight 1.2–1.8 kg. Mix the cure: 3.0–3.5% NaCl by jowl weight of coarse Sale Dolce di Cervia, freshly cracked Piper nigrum, and optionally Thymus vulgaris and Foeniculum vulgare pollen. Apply in two stages: rub 50% of the cure on day 1, pressing crystals against all faces; refrigerate uncovered at 4°C (39°F). On day 3–4, apply the remaining 50%, particularly to the lean face where penetration is slowest. Continue the cure at 4°C (39°F) for 21–28 days total, turning daily to redistribute the brine draw. After the cure period, brush off excess crystals; apply a generous cracked Piper nigrum crust to the exposed lean face, pressing firmly. Thread with butcher's string and hang at 12–15°C (54–59°F) and 70–75% relative humidity for 2–3 months. The guanciale is ready when the outer face shows a dry, firm Piper nigrum-crusted rind and the interior fat reads ivory-white with no translucent soft zones when pressed.

Lay the Sus scrofa domesticus pork belly skin-down. Mix the cure by belly weight: 3.5% NaCl of Sale Dolce di Cervia (coarse, NaCl 96%), 0.5% raw cane caster-sugar, freshly cracked Piper nigrum, and optional Juniperus communis berry, Rosmarinus officinalis, Salvia officinalis. Apply the cure firmly to all surfaces — top, bottom, and all four sides — pressing coarse crystals against the lean face and working into any scoring on the skin. Place the belly in a sealed tray, refrigerate at 4°C (39°F) for 7–10 days, turning daily to redistribute the draw. After the cure: rinse under cold water for 5 minutes, pat completely dry. For arrotolata: roll firmly from the lean end toward the fat cap end — lean-end-first is the correct direction because it places the fat cap at the interior of the cylinder, where it acts as a moisture reservoir preventing the lean seams from over-drying before the outer face is ready. Tie at 2 cm intervals with butcher's cord; hang at 12–15°C (54–59°F), 70–75% RH for 2–4 months. For stesa: after cure, press under a weighted board for 48 hours at 4°C (39°F), then air-dry flat in a ventilated space at 10–14°C (50–57°F) for 2 months minimum before cutting into lardons.

Rome's spring lamb fricassee — abbacchio (unweaned milk-fed lamb) braised in white wine with anchovy, garlic, rosemary, and white wine vinegar. Abbacchio is specifically lamb under 8 kg, slaughtered before 30 days — the meat is white-pink, delicate, without the gaminess of older lamb. The cacciatore technique finishes with a liaison of egg yolk, anchovy, and white wine vinegar whisked together and stirred into the braising liquid off heat to create a sharp, eggy sauce. The dish is a spring Easter preparation inextricable from the Roman agricultural calendar.

Abbacchio is the milk-fed lamb specific to Lazio — an animal of no more than 30 days old, still on the ewe's milk, with pale, almost white flesh and extraordinary delicacy. The Roman preparation (alla cacciatora — hunter style) braises the abbacchio with white wine, anchovy (the umami foundation), rosemary, garlic, and white wine vinegar in a preparation that is simultaneously delicate and assertive. The anchovy dissolves into the braising liquid and provides depth without fishiness — a Roman technique of invisible umami elevation. The lamb, so tender it barely needs cooking, braises for 45 minutes and is served with the reduced pan juices.

Abbacchio (milk-fed young lamb, slaughtered before weaning — under 6 weeks old) is the defining meat of the Roman Easter table. Abbacchio alla romana is the pan-roast: joints of milk-fed lamb browned in olive oil and lard, then braised with white wine, vinegar, rosemary, garlic, sage, and anchovy until the lamb is completely tender and the pan juices have reduced to a glassy, intensely savoury sauce. The anchovy dissolves completely and seasons the sauce without announcing itself — it is the technique (also found in saltimbocca and in many Roman preparations) of using anchovy as an invisible umami amplifier.

The Roman spring ritual: milk-fed lamb rib chops ('abbacchio' — lamb under 40 days old) grilled over charcoal until the thin meat chars slightly and the fat blisters. 'Scottadito' means 'burns the fingers' — they are eaten immediately, picked up by the bone. The meat is seasoned only with salt and rosemary; no sauce, no marinade. The technique requires very high heat and brief cooking (2–3 minutes per side). The thinness of the lamb means any longer and it is overcooked.

Acquacotta — 'cooked water' — is the ancient soup of the Maremma, made by the butteri (Maremma cowboys) and charcoal workers (carbonai) in the field from whatever was available: onion, wild herbs, tomatoes, and stale bread, cooked in water with olive oil and finished with an egg poached in the soup. It is one of the defining examples of cucina povera philosophy: a name that proclaims its poverty ('cooked water') while the technique coaxes extraordinary flavour from near-nothing.

Rome's grilled milk-fed lamb chops — abbacchio cutlets (from unweaned lamb) quickly grilled over charcoal until charred outside and pink inside, then eaten immediately while hot enough to burn the fingers ('scottadito' = burns the fingers). The preparation is complete in 5 minutes: young lamb requires no marinade; the quality of the charcoal, the freshness of the abbacchio, and the correct cooking time are the only variables. Served with lemon wedges and sometimes a side of cicoria ripassata.

The original Amatriciana from the mountain town of Amatrice — made with spaghetti (not rigatoni), guanciale (not pancetta), no onion, no garlic, and Pecorino Romano only. The guanciale is crisped in olive oil, white wine deglazed and reduced, then San Marzano tomatoes added and cooked 10 minutes maximum — the tomato sauce should be fresh and bright, not long-cooked. The pasta is finished in the pan with the sauce. A precise, minimal dish where each flavour is distinct and identifiable. The Amatrice earthquake of 2016 destroyed much of the town; the dish is now a tribute to what was lost.

Sugo all'amatriciana is one of the five canonical Roman pasta sauces (alongside cacio e pepe, gricia, carbonara, and coda alla vaccinara), originating in Amatrice (now in Lazio, historically in Abruzzo) and brought to Rome by the mountain shepherds who migrated seasonally to the capital. It is built on guanciale (cured pork jowl) rendered until crisp, deglazed with dry white wine, combined with San Marzano tomato, and finished on bucatini (or rigatoni). The critical variables are the use of guanciale (not pancetta, not bacon), the white wine deglaze, and the restraint in tomato — it is not a tomato sauce with pork; it is a pork sauce with tomato.

Roman-Jewish in origin, this preparation of desalted salt cod braises the fillets in a sweet-sour sauce of olive oil, tomato, golden raisins, pine nuts, and roasted bell peppers — the agrodolce treatment that crosses the Roman ghetto's medieval Sephardic heritage. The cod is floured and lightly fried first to form a crust, then braised gently in the sauce for 15 minutes. The sweet-sour-savoury balance is delicate and intentional.

Rome's Father's Day fritter: deep-fried choux pastry balls filled with pastry cream, made exclusively on 19 March (San Giuseppe / Father's Day in Italy), sold from street carts and pastry shops throughout Rome. The bignè (profiterole shell) is fried rather than baked — the hot oil causes the choux to puff dramatically and form an irregular, hollow interior that collapses slightly and creates a crisp-chewy exterior. Filled while still warm with thick vanilla pastry cream, dusted with icing sugar. A once-a-year street food of extraordinary immediacy.

The bruschetta — the mother preparation of Italian bread culture. Thick slices of pane di casa or ciabatta, grilled over charcoal or a gas flame until charred in lines and dry inside, rubbed immediately with a cut garlic clove (the abrasion draws garlic oil into the hot bread), drizzled with raw olive oil, and topped with ripe summer tomato diced and dressed with salt and torn basil. The heat is essential — cold bread rubbed with garlic produces a fundamentally different result. This is not a recipe; it is a technique.

The Roman pasta technique that seems simple and is not: Pecorino Romano DOP and toasted black pepper fused into a creamy coating on tonnarelli or spaghetti with nothing but pasta water and patience. There is no cream, no butter, no oil. The emulsion is achieved by tempering the grated cheese with pasta water at the right temperature (70°C — above this the cheese seizes into clumps), then tossing the pasta vigorously in the pan to create friction and emulsification.

Cacio e pepe is the most demanding technically of the Roman pasta preparations — three ingredients (pasta, Pecorino Romano, black pepper), no fat added, no cream, and the cheese must be emulsified into the pasta water to create a silky, sauce-like consistency that coats every strand without becoming glue or clumping. The preparation is ancient (the Roman shepherd's pasta, made with the hard sheep cheese carried in the pack and the black pepper from the spice trade) and requires a specific technique to achieve the correct emulsion. The failure mode is either clumped, stringy cheese or a watery pasta with no sauce. The success condition is a pasta where the cheese has become an invisible, silky coating.

Cacio e pepe is technically the most demanding of the Roman pasta canon: a sauce of Pecorino Romano, black pepper, and pasta water — nothing else. No butter, no cream, no oil. The cheese must be emulsified into the starchy pasta water to form a smooth, coating cream that clings to the pasta without clumping or becoming a stringy mass. Every professional cook who has cooked it for the first time has produced a clumped, greasy failure. The emulsification requires temperature control, the right pasta water starch concentration, and specific technique.

Rome's summer interpretation of carbonara logic — zucchine frite (fried zucchini slices) replace guanciale as the primary fat element, combined with beaten eggs, Pecorino Romano, and black pepper in the exact same emulsification technique as classical carbonara. The zucchini must be fried until deeply golden with caramelised edges; their sweetness and slight charring stand in for the guanciale's pork savouriness. The result is a genuinely different dish — vegetarian, lighter, but using identical technical architecture.

Rome's egg-and-guanciale pasta — one of the most technically exacting of Italian classics. Spaghetti coated in a sauce of raw egg yolks, Pecorino Romano, guanciale rendered crisp, and black pepper. The technique hinges on a single temperature control: the pasta must be hot enough to cook the egg into a silky sauce but not so hot that it scrambles. This is achieved by pulling pasta at al dente, reserving starchy pasta water, and combining everything off direct heat. No cream, no onion, no garlic — ever.

The Jewish ghetto's great contribution to Roman cooking: whole artichokes (Romanesco variety — large, thornless, violet-tinged) fried twice in olive oil until they open like flowers and the outer leaves become golden, shatteringly crisp while the heart remains tender and steaming inside. A preparation over 500 years old from Rome's Jewish community. The artichoke is trimmed aggressively (all dark-green outer leaves removed until only pale yellow-green remain), beaten gently to fan the leaves open, seasoned with salt and pepper, and submerged in 160°C olive oil for 10-12 minutes, then removed, fanned fully open, and returned to 190°C oil for 2-3 minutes until the outer leaves achieve maximum crispness.

Carciofi alla Giudia — artichokes Jewish-style — are the most famous dish of the Roman Jewish Ghetto kitchen: whole artichokes fried twice in olive oil until the outer leaves are completely crisp, spreading open like a sunflower, while the interior remains tender. The technique uses the Romanesco artichoke (carciofo romanesco — mammola variety): large, round, with a flat head, virtually thornless, with a tender choke that can be eaten entirely. The two-stage frying — first at a lower temperature, then at a higher — is what creates the simultaneous crisp exterior and tender interior.

Carciofi alla Romana are braised whole artichokes — the Roman carciofo mammola variety — stuffed with fresh mint (mentuccia romana — a small-leaved wild mint specific to the Roman countryside), garlic, and parsley, then cooked upside-down in olive oil and white wine until completely tender. This is a different technique from carciofi alla Giudia (fried) — this is a slow braise that transforms the artichoke into something silky, deeply flavoured, and entirely different from the fried version.

Rome's chickpea and pasta soup — a dish tied to the Christian calendar, traditionally eaten on Fridays (meatless days) and particularly on the Friday of the Cross (March 14). Dried chickpeas cooked from scratch with rosemary and garlic, then roughly half-puréed to create a thick, creamy broth; short pasta (broken spaghetti, maltagliati, or ditalini) added directly to the chickpea broth and cooked in it. Finished with rosemary-infused olive oil poured over each bowl. The Friday dish of Rome's travertine workers and market vendors for centuries.

Wild cicoria (chicory/dandelion greens) blanched until tender and then 'ripassata' — sautéed a second time in abundant olive oil with sliced garlic and peperoncino until the leaves absorb the oil and wilt into a silky, bitter-sweet tangle. One of Rome's most beloved vegetable preparations, served as a contorno to grilled or roasted meats or alongside sausages.

Blanched wild chicory (cicoria di campo) sautéed in olive oil with garlic and dried chilli — one of the essential side dishes of Roman cucina povera. The cicoria is first boiled until tender, then drained and pressed, and finally 'ripassata' (passed through the pan again) with generous olive oil, crushed garlic, and peperoncino. The double-cooking method mellows the bitterness of raw chicory while the final sauté concentrates flavour and adds richness. Served at room temperature as a contorno or as a topping for bruschetta.

Rome's most ubiquitous side dish: wild chicory (cicoria di campo) boiled until completely tender, then drained, squeezed, and 'ripassata' (re-passed) in a pan of olive oil, garlic, and chilli until wilted, glossy, and slightly crisped at the edges. The double cooking — boiling then frying — removes bitterness while creating a more complex, garlic-forward flavour. The cicoria must be completely drained and squeezed; any residual water causes it to steam in the pan rather than sauté. Served throughout Rome as a contorno or as a topping for bruschetta.

Rome's celebrated oxtail braise — the definitive Roman offal preparation. Oxtail segments braised for 4+ hours in a soffritto of celery, carrot, onion, tomato, white wine, with the ancient vaccinaro (slaughterhouse worker) finishing sauce: celery hearts, pine nuts, sultanas, bitter cocoa, and sometimes candied citron peel added in the final 30 minutes. This sweet-sour-bitter finishing sauce is what separates authentic coda alla vaccinara from simple oxtail stew. Originated in the Testaccio slaughterhouse district of Rome.

The baroque variation of Rome's oxtail stew — braised in tomato and wine with the standard soffritto, then enriched in the final hour with bitter dark chocolate, pine nuts, raisins, celery and candied citrus peel. This sweet-savoury variant of the classic Roman coda alla vaccinara reflects the Baroque period's love of agrodolce enrichment. Less commonly made than the simpler version but considered by many to be the more sophisticated expression.

The defining Romanesco oxtail braise: oxtail sections slow-cooked in tomato, celery, lard, and bitter chocolate — with pine nuts and raisins added at the end for the characteristic agrodolce note. It is the dish of the 5th quarter (quinto quarto — the offal and extremities left after the prime cuts went to the butcher's wealthy clients) that defines the cucina romanesca. The chocolate is not a modern affectation — it is traditional, and without it the dish is something else.

Rome's greatest offal preparation: oxtail slow-braised for 4-5 hours in celery, onion, garlic, cloves, and wine until collapse-tender, then finished with the characteristic 'quinto quarto' addition of cocoa, pine nuts, sultanas, and celery — a sweet-savoury finish that marks the dish as Roman and distances it from all other braised oxtail. The name refers to the vaccinaro (slaughterhouse workers) of the Testaccio neighbourhood who took oxtail as part of their payment in kind. The collagen from the tail creates a self-thickening, gelatinous sauce.

The Roman hunter's rabbit: jointed rabbit browned in olive oil, then braised in white wine with Gaeta olives, rosemary, garlic, and a single whole dried chilli. The name 'alla cacciatora' (hunter's style) in Rome specifically means rabbit with olives, rosemary, and white wine — distinct from the Milanese version (with tomato) or the Marchigiano version (with vinegar). The Gaeta olives' mild brine and the rosemary's resin create the distinctive Roman flavour profile.

The quinto quarto (fifth quarter) cooking of Rome at its most Pasquale: the pluck of spring lamb (lungs, heart, liver, sweetbreads) fried in lard with white wine, then finished with braised young artichokes in the Roman style. Coratella is consumed in the days following Easter when abbacchio (milk-fed lamb) is slaughtered. The bitterness of artichokes balances the iron-sweet organ mix perfectly.

Lamb offal (coratella: heart, lung and liver) cooked with Roman artichokes in white wine and olive oil — a quintessentially Roman spring preparation tied to Passover and Easter when lambs are slaughtered and the offal must be used immediately. The offal is cooked in stages by density (heart first, then lung, then liver) to prevent overcooking any component. The artichokes are trimmed 'alla Romana' and braised alongside.

Rome's Easter leg of lamb roasted with Romanesco artichokes — the two principal spring ingredients of the Roman table combined in a single pan. The lamb leg is studded with garlic and rosemary, rubbed with olive oil, and placed on a bed of artichoke hearts (cleaned, trimmed, and halved) with white wine and olive oil. As the lamb roasts, its fat drips into the artichokes which caramelise and become infused with the lamb juices. The artichokes at the base become richer and more complex than any separately prepared version.

Roman lamb chop cooked directly on a wood-fire or charcoal grill — so called 'scottadito' (burnt fingers) because the tradition is to eat them immediately off the grill, too hot to hold without scorching. Young milk lamb (abbacchio) ribs are pounded thin, seasoned with salt and rosemary, and grilled over very high heat for 1–2 minutes per side, no more. The chops should be charred on the outside and pink-to-rare at the bone. This dish requires neither sauce nor accompaniment — the lamb's quality and the grill's fire are the entire flavour

Rome's Jewish quarter's most beloved dessert — a pasta frolla tart with a base of ricotta filling and a top of sour cherry (visciola) jam, with a lattice top. The combination of rich, neutral ricotta and intensely sour-sweet Visciola Romana jam creates a balance found in no other tart in Italian pastry. This is not a ricotta tart with jam on top — the jam must be below the lattice but above the ricotta, so each slice contains lattice-pastry, jam, ricotta, and pastry base in the correct sequence.

The most celebrated Roman-Jewish pastry: a short pastry crostata with a filling of fresh ricotta and sugar topped with sour cherry (visciole) jam. In the original ghetto preparation, the ricotta layer was hidden beneath a top crust of pastry to make the dairy-cheese component invisible — observant Jews who kept dairy and meat separate could signal to guests which type of dish it was by whether the ricotta was covered. The pastry has since become one of Rome's beloved desserts, usually served open-face revealing the white-and-red filling.

Rome's bean and pork rind soup — dried cannellini beans slow-cooked with softened pork rinds (cotiche), celery, tomato, and chilli in a rich, gelatinous broth. The cotiche are prepared separately: boiled, scraped, and rolled up before being added to the beans — they release collagen into the cooking liquid, creating a naturally thickened broth. A quintessential Roman cucina povera preparation, served throughout winter in trattorie as a primo. The beans should be completely tender but not falling apart; the cotiche should be soft, sticky, and gelatinous.

Zucchini flowers stuffed with a mixture of fresh cow's milk ricotta, a salted anchovy fillet, and fresh mozzarella, then battered in a light beer batter and deep-fried until the batter is golden and shatteringly crisp. The anchovy dissolves into the ricotta during frying, providing salt and umami without an identifiable fish flavour. The mozzarella melts into the ricotta for a molten, creamy interior. This is one of Rome's great street foods — the contrast of hot, crisp batter, liquid interior, and the floral note of the zucchini flower defines the Roman summer.

Rome's elaborate mixed fry — not a single item but a composed service of multiple ingredients fried in different batters and coatings: suppli al telefono (rice croquettes), artichoke hearts, zucchini flowers stuffed with ricotta and anchovy, semolina crocchetti, lamb brains, and seasonal vegetables. Each element requires its own coating: suppli are breaded; artichokes get a thin egg-and-flour batter; zucchini flowers are battered; brains are flour-dusted. The serving is immediate — fritto misto waits for no one.

Rome's tradition of frying everything — an extravagant mixed vegetable fry featuring artichoke wedges, zucchini flowers, cauliflower florets, and sage leaves in a delicate tempura-style pastella (batter). Roman fritto misto differs from other Italian fritto traditions by using a lighter batter (sometimes just flour, sometimes flour and egg white beaten to soft peaks) and frying multiple vegetables simultaneously to serve as one spectacular sharing plate.

Roman-style gnocchi made from semolina (not potato) — thick rounds of semolina porridge cooled, cut into discs, layered with butter and Parmigiano-Reggiano, and baked until the tops are golden and crisp and the interiors remain soft and yielding. Gnocchi alla romana are not boiled — they are baked. The semolina is cooked like a thick polenta with milk, egg yolks, butter, and Parmigiano, then spread on a greased surface to set. Once cold and set, discs are cut with a round cutter and layered for baking. A Thursday tradition in Rome (as is pasta e fagioli) in the calendar of cucina romana.

The Roman semolina gnocchi — not to be confused with potato gnocchi, which are Venetian in origin. A thick porridge of semolino (coarsely ground durum wheat) cooked in milk and enriched with egg yolks, butter, and Parmigiano, poured into a tray and cooled until firm, then cut into discs with a glass cutter, layered in a buttered baking dish, dusted with Parmigiano and butter, and baked until golden. Called 'gnocchi alla romana' but made entirely without potato. The semolino gnocchi has a fundamentally different character: denser, more savoury, with a crisp baked top.

The 'white Amatriciana' — pasta dressed with rendered guanciale, its own fat, Pecorino Romano, and black pepper only. The predecessor of both Amatriciana (with tomato) and Carbonara (with egg), it originated among the shepherds of the Amatrice area who had only guanciale, cheese, and pepper available. The technique is identical to Carbonara but without egg — the Pecorino is emulsified into the guanciale fat and pasta water off-heat to create a loose, creamy sauce without any dairy-based cream. The simplest and most ancient of the Roman pasta canon.