In Defense of Purism in Italian Food
And how to make an authentic Amatriciana
Last week, a prominent local restaurant posted a picture of a plate of pasta on social media with the caption: Our bucatini is ready for a twirl! Served all’amatriciana with pancetta, roasted heirloom tomato, and 72-month Parmigiano Reggiano.
“Eh nooo! Ti prego…” Stefano said, clasping his hands together and moving them up and down in the universally recognized Italian hand gesture that expresses disagreement and disappointment.
To a Roman, a plate of bucatini all’Amatriciana made with pancetta and Parmigiano is an offense; it should only ever be made with guanciale and Pecorino romano.
Stefano mused on this aberration of one of his favorite pasta dishes. The restaurant’s founder and owner is a James Beard award-winning chef. He must know that amatriciana is made with guanciale and Pecorino romano. What was he thinking?
In the thirty-plus years I’ve been immersed in Italian culture, I’ve learned that Italians are quite rigid about their food rules—at least Romans are.
Cappuccino is enjoyed in the morning, never in the afternoon or evening. Certain sauces require specific pasta shapes—there is not much wiggle room for mixing and matching. Balsamic vinegar does not belong on a caprese. Garlic is used sparingly, meant to season, not to be eaten. The holy grail of Roman cooking is that the four quintessential pastas—la gricia, la carbonara, l’Amatriciana, and la cacio e pepe—are made only with guanciale and pecorino romano. Except for cacio e pepe, which has no guanciale at all.
Here in the US, we are constantly faced with variations on Italian cuisine that miss the mark. A local Italian wine bar serves prosciutto di Parma, but with horseradish on top. The variations on carbonara and cacio e pepe are too many to count. And the American love affair with garlic has truly gone too far—chunks of garlic on pizza, grocery store signage proudly proclaiming “garlic-lovers pasta salad,” and even garlic-flavored ice cream.
The problem, Stefano mused, is that our celebrity-chef-driven culture rewards innovation over tradition. Further, thanks to social media, everyone has heard of Amatriciana, carbonara, and cacio e pepe, but few have actually tasted those dishes prepared locally. This includes many chefs outside Italy who prepare their versions in restaurants across America. How can one pretend to be an authority on a dish so rooted in tradition without experiencing firsthand what it should taste like?
Sometimes, our non-Italian friends tell us that our opinions about Italian food are too purist - perhaps even judgy. We’ve seen comments on discussion boards for expats in Italy complaining about the lack of flexibility their Italian in-laws show around cooking and recipes, chuckling as we recognize the truth in them.
Fair enough. But in defense, we offer that certain recipes do not need changing—they are tried and true and perfect just as they are. In a constantly evolving, increasingly polarized world, these food traditions bring reassurance and a sense of solidarity. We can disagree about many things, but we can find common ground in the shared understanding that there is no whipped cream in tiramisù, only mascarpone, no heavy cream in carbonara, only eggs, and l’Amatriciana is only ever made with guanciale and Pecorino Romano. There is no need to invent the wheel. We are unashamedly Italian food purists.
Go ahead and experiment with new recipes. Just call it something else - l’Amatriciana Sbagliata, for example, sbagliata meaning “incorrect” but intentionally so, like the cocktail Negroni Sbagliato. Or, call it Bucatini al pomodoro with pancetta and Parmigiano.
“It probably tastes really good,” Stefano said. “It’s just not l’Amatriciana.”
Ingredients
1 can whole San Marzano tomatoes, 28 oz. / 800 gr. approx.
Pecorino Romano
Guanciale, approx. 100 gr.
A dash of dry white wine.
Salt
1 package Mezze maniche pasta
Ground black pepper
Instructions
Pass the San Marzano tomatoes through a food mill to produce a smooth sauce. Place the sauce in a bowl and set it aside.
Finely grate a bowlful of Pecorino Romano and set it aside.
Cut the guanciale into about 1/4 in or 1/2 cm strips.
Place the guanciale in a saucepan and let them cook over low heat until the fat is released and they become crispy.
When the guanciale is crispy, remove half of the pieces and set them aside.
Increase the heat and add a dash of wine to the guanciale in the saucepan. Allow the wine to mix with the sugna (the fat released from the guanciale) and evaporate.
Add the tomatoes to the saucepan. Stir and cook for about 15 or 20 minutes until the sauce has thickened. Salt lightly to taste.
While the sauce cooks, bring a pot of water to boil.
When the water boils, toss a handful of salt into the water and add the pasta. Set a timer for the al dente cooking time noted on the package.
When approximately 4 minutes of cook time remain, use a handheld strainer or skimmer to remove the pasta and transfer it to the saucepan.
Toss the pasta and sauce together, allowing the pasta to finish cooking in the sauce. Use a ladle to add pasta water as needed. Add a small handful of grated Pecorino Romano and stir it together with the pasta and sauce.
When the pasta is cooked to al dente, plate it, garnish it with the extra sauteéd guanciale and a dusting of Pecorino Romano.
Notes
Not everyone adds the dash of white wine while sauteéing the guanciale, but we like the additional flavor it gives.
Traditionally, l’Amatriciana is made with bucatini. However, if you’ve tried them, you know how messy they are, which is probably why mezze maniche are used increasingly. If you don’t have either, you can get by with rigatoni or even spaghetti.
l’Amatriciana is named after the town of Amatrice in northeast Lazio. This is why it is usually capitalized.
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