What to Eat in Rome

Rome’s cooking grows from Lazio’s pastoral hills, volcanic soils, and the moderating Tyrrhenian Sea breezes. A Mediterranean climate favors hardy vegetables, olives, and sheep’s milk, while winters stay mild enough for year‑round markets. Food here values clarity, thrift, and technique over ornament.

Meals follow the Italian cadence: a starch‑led primo, a protein secondo, and seasonal contorni, often wrapped by a simple dolce. Lunch remains the anchor, with weekly markets guiding home cooks, and quick snacks filling the gaps. Street counters and neighborhood trattorie keep traditions accessible.

Carbonara in Rome centers on guanciale rendered gently until crisp, tossed with hot pasta—typically spaghetti or rigatoni—and a sauce made off the heat from beaten eggs, Pecorino Romano, and plenty of black pepper, loosened with starchy cooking water to achieve a glossy emulsion. The result is silky, peppery, and pork‑savory, with firm pasta giving bite against nuggets of guanciale; there is no cream in the traditional method, and the sauce should coat rather than pool. Widely recorded in Roman cookery from the mid‑20th century, it reflects postwar tastes for robust yet economical ingredients and the city’s access to cured pork from Lazio. Romans eat it as a primo at lunch or dinner, especially in trattorie and home kitchens when a satisfying, fast dish is wanted.

Cacio e pepe uses only Pecorino Romano, black pepper, pasta—often tonnarelli or spaghetti—and hot, starchy water to create a creamy emulsion without butter or oil. Peppercorns are toasted and ground for fragrance, then whisked with finely grated cheese, before pasta is tossed vigorously to form a smooth sauce that clings; the texture should be glossy and elastic, with a sharp, saline bite balanced by pepper’s warmth. The dish traces to Lazio’s transhumant shepherds, who carried hard cheese and pepper as durable provisions, and it remains a benchmark of Roman technique. It is eaten year‑round as a primo, frequently ordered late in the evening or at casual lunches when locals crave something elemental but expertly executed.

Supplì are oblong rice croquettes: rice is simmered in a tomato‑forward ragù until starchy and cohesive, then cooled, shaped around a baton of mozzarella, breaded, and fried until deep golden. When cracked open, the hot mozzarella stretches in a string “like a telephone,” giving the nickname al telefono; the shell is audibly crisp, the interior savory with rice and sauce, and the center creamy and slightly milky. Originating from Rome’s friggitorie tradition, they exemplify cucina di strada and thrifty use of leftover sauce and rice. Locals eat them as a warm antipasto before pizza, as a quick afternoon snack, or as an evening bite on the go, especially when fresh from the fryer for maximum crunch.

Carciofi alla giudia rely on the tender Romanesco artichoke (mammola), trimmed of outer leaves and choke, then fried twice in olive oil: first gently to soften, then again at higher heat after the head is pressed open like a flower. The exterior leaves turn brittle and browned like chips, while the heart stays nutty and moist, seasoned with just salt and a hint of pepper; the contrast of shatter‑crisp petals and tender core defines the dish. Rooted in the Roman Jewish community since at least the 16th century, it reflects skill with frying and seasonality tied to spring harvests around March and April. Romans enjoy it as a contorno or antipasto, particularly in the former Ghetto and across the city during peak artichoke season.

Saltimbocca alla romana features thin veal scallops topped with a sage leaf and a slice of prosciutto, secured with a toothpick, sometimes dusted lightly with flour, then sautéed quickly in butter or olive oil and deglazed with white wine. The veal remains tender, the prosciutto seasons the sauce with cured depth, and sage perfumes each bite; the pan juices finish glossy and savory without heaviness, ideal for mopping with bread. Documented in 19th‑century sources and long tied to Rome’s trattoria repertoire, it reflects a taste for balanced richness and speed at the stove. It appears as a secondo at lunch or dinner, often paired with sautéed greens or roasted potatoes, and is a staple of Sunday meals and everyday menus alike.

Roman cooking stands out for bold flavors built from few ingredients, careful technique, and market‑driven seasonality. From street fryers to home kitchens, the city favors dishes that respect texture, timing, and the integrity of Pecorino Romano, artichokes, and cured meats. Explore more regional food insights and plan tasty, weather‑savvy trips with Sunheron.com.