Amatriciana (Guanciale, Tomato, and Pecorino Romano)

Amatriciana (Guanciale, Tomato, and Pecorino Romano)
Amatriciana (Guanciale, Tomato, and Pecorino Romano)
This simple but delicious sauce is named for the town of Amatrice, in the mountainous northeastern panhandle of Lazio, near Abruzzo and the Marche. It seems incredible for such an easy, humble sauce, but this is one of the dishes self-appointed purists will fight over. You have to use spaghetti or bucatini, they say—nor is it that simple, since there are spaghetti-only and bucatini-only factions. No cheese but pecorino is permitted. And woe betide you if you use pancetta in place of guanciale. There is, however, some room for individual expression. Some cooks use onion and chile, some not. A few swear by a splash of white wine to cut the fat. The pecorino should ideally be that made in Amatrice or Abruzzo or Sicily, milder and fattier than pecorino romano, but pecorino romano is certainly what youll find used in Rome. Parmigiano is not used in amatriciana; its made with cows milk, and Rome and its mountainous hinterland is traditionally a land of sheep, after all. The shepherds of yesteryear, who spent months in the hills with their flocks, would make this flavorful dish for themselves. You can imagine that they were not worried about someone calling the food police if they grabbed a piece of pancetta instead of guanciale or one kind of sheep cheese instead of another. But they would never have used smoked bacon, which is not part of their tradition. Like many rustic, simple sauces that have found immortality on trattoria menus throughout Italy (and beyond), this dish is only as good as its ingredients. Take the tomatoes. The rugged mountainous area of northeastern Lazio where Amatrice is located was never great tomato-growing territory, or at least not for most of the year, so it was normal to use canned or jarred tomatoes. But the most delicious amatriciana Ive ever tasted was made with tomatoes from a garden. Whether you use fresh or canned, the result is a red sauce studded with bits of lightly fried pork, but you dont want it too red. The pasta and guanciale should be coated with a thin mantle of sauce, not hidden. Dont let the gloppy, oversauced trattoria version be your model. The cheese is sharp and salty, but, again, dont use too much. Many people consider onion a deviation from the sacred original, but hardly anyone thinks it doesnt taste good. In fact, it is delicious. If you use it, add a small chopped onion to the guanciale fat and sauté until transparent, then add the tomato.
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Italian Cheese Pasta Tomato Dinner
  • salt
  • 1 pound (450 grams) pasta (see note below)
  • 1 small piece dried chile
  • 2 1/2 ounces (70 grams) guanciale, cut into thin strips
  • 2–3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
  • 1 small onion (any kind), chopped (optional but recommended)
  • 1 pound (450 grams) red, ripe sauce tomatoes, broken into pieces, or canned italian peeled tomatoes, drained
  • 7 rounded tablespoons (70 grams) grated pecorino (see headnote)

A Taste of Home: My Amatriciana Adventure

As a busy working mom, finding time to cook delicious, authentic meals can feel like a Herculean task. But there's something truly special about creating a meal from scratch, connecting with traditions, and sharing it with my family. Recently, I embarked on a culinary journey that brought me to the heart of Italy—through the simple yet profound dish known as Amatriciana. I had heard tales of its simplicity and the passionate debates surrounding its 'correct' preparation, and I was determined to experience its magic firsthand.

The recipe I followed emphasized the importance of quality ingredients – the heart of any truly great dish. Sourcing the best guanciale, those melt-in-your-mouth cured pork jowls, felt paramount. Finding perfectly ripe San Marzano tomatoes, whether fresh from the farmers market or from a trusted can, was equally crucial. The vibrant red of these tomatoes, the salty-sharp bite of Pecorino Romano, the slight hint of chili – each element played its part in the symphony of flavor that was slowly unfolding on my stovetop.

My kitchen transformed into a miniature Italian trattoria as I carefully followed the steps, savoring the aromas that filled the air. The slow rendering of the guanciale, the gentle sautéing of the onion (I couldn't resist adding it!), and the simmering sauce – each phase felt like a meditation, a mindful connection to a rich culinary heritage. The process wasn't rushed; it was deliberate and deeply satisfying. I watched as the sauce thickened, the oil glistening on the surface, hinting at the deliciousness to come.

The final result exceeded my expectations. The pasta, perfectly al dente, was coated in a delicate sauce, not overwhelmed by it. The saltiness of the guanciale, the sweetness of the tomatoes, and the sharp tang of the cheese harmonized beautifully, creating a balanced and incredibly flavorful experience. Each bite was a celebration of simple ingredients elevated by meticulous preparation. My family devoured it, each person expressing their appreciation in their own way. This wasn't just a meal; it was a shared experience, a taste of Italy right in my own kitchen.

Making Amatriciana wasn't just about following a recipe; it was about embracing a story, a tradition passed down through generations. It reminded me that sometimes, the most fulfilling meals are the simplest, the ones born from fresh ingredients, careful preparation, and a genuine connection to the culinary art. The time spent preparing this dish wasn't time taken away from my family; it was time shared with them, through the tantalizing aromas and the joy of sharing the meal together.

More than a mere culinary accomplishment, making Amatriciana was a deeply personal journey. It connected me to a vibrant Italian culture, a culture of simplicity and passion, where good food transcends the mundane and becomes a symbol of community and celebration. It was a reminder that in the rush of daily life, there's immense joy to be found in taking the time to nurture ourselves and our families with wholesome, carefully crafted food. The taste of Amatriciana, lingering on my palate, will forever be a cherished reminder of this journey.

The beauty of this dish lies in its simplicity. It isn’t a complex recipe, but it requires mindful attention to the cooking process. The quality of ingredients is truly paramount, making it a great recipe to experiment with different brands of tomatoes or even try making your own pasta. This simple sauce is a testament to the idea that extraordinary food can be born from the most humble of ingredients, and that careful attention to the cooking process is the key to unlocking a wealth of flavor. So, take your time, savor the process, and let the rich history of this dish unfold before you. Your family will thank you.

Step-by-step

    • Put the guanciale and oil in a saucepan. Turn the heat to medium and heat gently so the guanciale renders some fat and starts to brown. Taste a piece to assess how salty it is.
    • Then, when it just begins to become crisp, add the chopped onion (if using) and sauté gently until transparent. Add the tomatoes and chile, then taste for salt (how much you need will depend on the guanciale).
    • Finish cooking the sauce, covered, over low heat. Youll know its done when the liquid has thickened somewhat and the fat shows on the surface, about 20 minutes.
    • Make-ahead note: This much can be done earlier in the day, but this sauce is not customarily made in advance or kept, except casually as leftovers for the next day.
    • Bring 5 quarts (5 liters) of water to a boil in an 8-quart (8-liter) pot over high heat. Add 3 tablespoons kosher salt, then add the pasta and cook, stirring occasionally, until al dente.
    • Warm a serving bowl or platter in a low oven. If the oven is not practical, warm the bowl just before use with hot water, even a ladleful of the pasta cooking water.
    • Drain the pasta and put it in the warmed serving bowl. Toss it first with the grated cheese, then with the sauce. Serve immediately.
    • Pasta shapes: This sauce is used on flour-and-water shapes —spaghetti or bucatini, of course, but rigatoni, casarecce, or some of the handmade flour-and-water shapes, such as strozzapreti/pici, do nicely too.
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