Matriciana or Amatriciana, that is the question. A principal dish of the Roman kitchen, it occupies one of the top positions among Italian culinary specialties. But among the “scholars” on the subject there is some disagreement about the plate’s true origin.
Bucatini alla Matriciana is one of the oldest dishes of the Italian tradition (possibly dating back to the Roman Empire), and it appears that it’s even on the waiting list for certification as a typical product of Italy—along the lines of the Neapolitan Pizza and Abbacchio (Roman-style lamb). Or, perhaps better, just like Guanciale (salt-cured pork jowl that is not smoked and is sweeter and more tender than pancetta) and Pecorino Romano (sheep’s milk cheese; the Romano variety is saltier and firmer than Pecorino Sardo and Pecorino Toscano), two of the main ingredients of this famous recipe.
The origin of this renowned pasta, however, is the stuff of legends, and the very name is still the subject of numerous discussions and interpretations.
The players on each side of the debate (Matriciana vs. Amatriciana) advance theories that call into play obscure Latin terms, special herbs, particular customs, and ancient cooking vessels—but the fact remains that the true origin is unknown.
The most famous debate on the subject pits the supporters of Roman Matriciana origin against the supporters of Amatriciana origin, named for the town of Amatrice. Oddly enough, Amatrice was once located in the province of Aquila in the region of Abruzzo, but is today located in the province of Rieti in Lazio (the region of central Italy where Rome is located).
It is said, in fact, that shepherds from the area bordering Abruzzo grazed their flocks in the Roman countryside and devised the recipe by combining the only ingredients they had on hand—namely pecorino cheese, pasta, and guanciale. When winter came, the shepherds made their way to Rome to take refuge from the harsh mountain climate, and subsequently introduced the dish. The Romans then adopted the recipe and added the tomato.
Tradition also has it that there was no love lost between the Romans and the Amatricians, a fact that greatly contributed to an ongoing dispute rather than to a peaceful and definitive explanation.
In reality, there is a considerable difference between the two recipes—the Matriciana includes both tomatoes and onions, while the Amatriciana has neither. It should also be noted that the Amatriciana was originally prepared with spaghetti, while the “Romanization” of the dish saw the pasta replaced with bucatini, a type of long hollow pasta whose very form has made it notoriously “dangerous” to suck into one’s mouth.
Nevertheless, suffice it to say that the inhabitants of the small mountain town of Amatrice still argue energetically that the Amatriciana gave birth to the more sophisticated version prepared in the capital, and thus have erected a sign at the entrance to the town that commemorates it as the “City of Spaghetti.” To further validate its claim, the town celebrates the Festival of Spaghetti all’Amatriciana every year at the end of August. In recent years, revelers at the festival have consumed an average of 3000 pounds of spaghetti and tomatoes, 1100 pounds of guanciale, and 800 pounds of pecorino cheese.
This year marked the event’s 42nd incarnation. For the occasion, and in an unusual move, the Italian Post Office issued a stamp dedicated to the Amatriciana Festival—perhaps with an eye toward settling the dispute once and for all?
But the chefs in Rome aren’t yet ready to concede the point and still proudly lay claim to the origin of the dish, arguing that Matriciana was born in a Roman restaurant called, in fact, The Matriciano. And not to be outdone by their rivals, Rome and its neighboring towns hold yearly festivals of their own at which the Bucatini alla Matriciana is the first dish on the menu.
Even as the debate rages on, new variations on the official recipe continue to flourish: there are those who suggest the addition of vinegar, those who use garlic instead of onions, others who substitute red wine for the white wine, and still others who add a dash of cream and ginger—perhaps one day they’ll also propose a Matriciana with parmesan instead of pecorino?
Despite all the creativity the dish inspires, there is still just one real recipe for Bucatini alla Matriciana: onions, tomatoes, white wine, pecorino romano, perfectly cubed and barely browned guanciale (not bacon!), and bucatini.
We must also remember that some historians of Italian cuisine call Bucatini alla Matriciana the “whistling dish” because if you suck the sauce-covered bucatini into your mouth with too much enthusiasm, the hole in the pasta emits a distinct whistle—not very elegant, but definitely entertaining.
Whether you whistle or no, keep an eye on your ties, shirts, and blouses because bucatini is unforgiving!
The Recipe
BUCATINI alla MATRICIANA
INGREDIENTS (SERVES 4):
1 lb. (500 g) bucatini pasta
2 lbs. (1 kg) peeled ripe tomatoes, seeded and chopped
¾ lb. (300 g) guanciale or pancetta, diced into 1/2-inch cubes*
2 cups pecorino cheese, freshly grated
1 hot pepper, whole or seeded and shredded
extra virgin olive oil
PREPARATION:
Heat some oil in a skillet and add the diced guanciale. Stir and cook until lightly browned. Add half of the hot pepper and let cook with the meat for a few minutes. Add the tomatoes and cook on medium heat, stirring occasionally. Let the sauce simmer until it reaches a creamy, homogenous consistency. In a large pot, bring the pasta water to a boil, add salt, and cook the pasta. Drain the pasta when it is still slightly al dente. Take the sauce off the fire and turn the pasta directly into the skillet. Add the grated pecorino and stir it all together. Pour onto a serving plate and serve immediately.
*Guanciale is salt-cured pork jowl and is the traditional meat used in amatriciana sauce. If you cannot find it, pancetta can be used instead. Bacon does not make a good substitute because it is smoked and contains sugar.
