Hold the garlic for traditional Amatriciana sauce

Guanciale (or pancetta), onion, canned Italian tomatoes and Pecorino Romano—but no garlic—are the basic ingredients for Amatriciana sauce, a simple Italian favorite. Recipe below.

[su_dropcap style=”flat”]T[/su_dropcap]o me, garlic is deeply ingrained in Italian cuisine. So much so that every single time I make Lidia Bastianich’s Ziti with Sausage and Fennel, I’m surprised to remember that it has no garlic. Turns out Italians have a much more nuanced relationship with this fragrant Allium.

Because it is cheap, abundant and easy to grow,  garlic has long been associated with cucina povera in Italy—literally “cooking of the poor” or peasant cooking. Lately, cucina povera has been enjoying a rather lengthy moment, with its simple, rustic recipes being celebrated by modern Italian (and Italian-American) chefs. But that wasn’t always the case. Often, it was looked down upon. Garlic was banished from many Italian kitchens, both at home and in restaurants.

Danielle Callegari, author and Lecturer in Italian Studies at UC Berkeley, delved into Italy’s great garlic divide in a recent article in Taste, touching on its origins there and discussing how garlic became a huge part of Italian-American cuisine. As Callegari notes, “the majority of Italian immigrants who landed in the United States were escaping… poverty”—and brought garlic, flavorful and cheap, with them. She also documents our nation’s pervasive xenophobia attached to these immigrants and “stinking garlic.”

I first heard of amatriciana sauce as Callegari described how Italian chefs are still cautious about using garlic, mentioning “the traditional pork jowl and tomato sauce from Rome, amatriciana, where even a whiff of garlic can provoke ire from locals.” She gave no recipe, but I was intrigued. I’m  providing a link to her insightful article after the recipe; please do read it.

Ironically, when I started researching amatriciana sauce, many of the recipes I found, even from reputable sources, did include garlic. I chose to cling to Italian tradition and leave it out. All recipes feature guanciale, made from pork cheeks; they all also suggest pancetta (salt-cured pork belly) as an alternative. As you can see in this photo, I chose the more readily available pancetta. All recipes also specify Pecorino Romano cheese, made from sheep’s milk, not Parmesan, which is made from cow’s milk—as Epicurious notes, “Rome and its mountainous hinterland is traditionally a land of sheep, after all.” And while a few recipes may use fresh tomatoes, most insist that canned tomatoes—preferably San Marzano—are the only authentic way to go. Finally, some recipes call chopped onion optional; others call it blasphemy. But reluctantly, all agree the sauce tastes better with onion.

Interestingly, not one recipe I found used seasonings beyond salt, black pepper and either crushed red pepper flakes or a “small piece of a dried chile.” Amatriciana sauce and pasta is not a complex dish, layered in flavors. It is simple, comforting and delicious. And as you can see in the photo of the finished dish, the pasta is lightly coated with the sauce, not drowned.

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Spaghetti All' Amatriciana

Course Main Course, Pasta

Cuisine Italian

Servings 4

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/4 pound sliced guanciale or pancetta, thinly sliced crosswise
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1 medium yellow onion, chopped
• 1/4 cup dry white wine (see Kitchen Notes)
• 1 28- ounce can whole San Marzano tomatoes (see Kitchen Notes for substitutions)
• 1/2 cup grated Pecorino Romano, plus more for serving (see Kitchen Notes)
• salt if needed
• 12 ounces uncooked dry spaghetti (see Kitchen Notes)

Instructions

• Heat oil in a large sauté pan over medium flame. While oil is still warming, add guanciale or pancetta to pan and toss to coat with oil. Add pepper flakes and black pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about 5 minutes, then add onion and cook until translucent and softened, about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
• Meanwhile, empty canned tomatoes into a medium bowl. Crush tomatoes by hand, one at a time, into the bowl (you remembered to wash your hands, right?). Aim them as best you can, knowing that tomato bits will squirt in unexpected directions.
• Add wine to pan and cook, stirring and scraping up any browned bits, until wine is mostly evaporated. Add tomatoes and all their juices to pan, stirring to combine thoroughly. Mash any big chunks of tomato with a wooden spoon. Simmer uncovered over medium-low for 15 – 20 minutes.
• Meanwhile, cook the pasta until it's about 2 minutes short of being al denté according to package directions. Drain, reserving a couple ladles of pasta water, and add the pasta to the pan, stirring to coat the pasta with the sauce. If pasta seems dry, stir in some pasta water—I added a few tablespoons. Cook until pasta is al denté, about 2 minutes.
• Stir in 1/2 cup of Pecorino Romano. Taste and season with salt, if needed. I didn't need to. Divide among 4 pasta bowls, being sure everyone gets a share of the pancetta, onion and any chunks of tomato still lurking in the pan. Top with additional grated Pecorino and serve.

Kitchen Notes

Do I need the wine? Honestly, most recipes don't mention any wine, and those that do call it optional. Unless you or one of your dinner guests doesn't drink, do use the wine; it adds its own flavor and cuts some of the richness.

You say tomato... Although whole San Marzano tomatoes are most authentic (and many say best tasting),  you can use crushed or diced tomatoes. But hand-crushing those whole tomatoes is a fun, truly hands-on cooking experience.

Let's talk cheese. We used more cheese than most recipes call for, about twice the amount; we felt it really brought the dish to life. And while Pecorino is the traditional cheese used here, if Parmesan is what you have on hand, use it.

Spaghetti? Bucatini? Both are traditional pastas for this dish. We prefer spaghetti, but if you like bucatini, know that your dish will be equally keeping with tradition.

Here’s the article that inspired this post. You can read Danielle Callegari’s wonderful article, “Italy’s Great Garlic Divide,” right here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.