Rachel Roddy's Recipe for Cacio e Pepe, the Old-Fashioned Way
The network of caves and tunnels beneath Monte Testaccio, an ancient rubbish dump hill in the heart of Rome, is a fascinating place. Over the centuries, these spaces have been carved out by various activities, including nightclubs, mechanics, restaurants, a theatre, a wholesale butcher, and an Apostolic church. Some of these spaces have been transformed into unique features, showcasing the cross-section of broken amphorae, while others have been smoothed with plaster. A few still retain their original purpose as natural warehouses, providing the ideal temperature and humidity for storing certain foods and wine.
One such space has been reclaimed by Vincenzo Mancini, whose project DOL distributes artisanal products from small agricultural realities in Lazio. He has taken over a deep cave behind door 93, using it as an urban aging space for cheese and cured meat. I recently visited this cave with chefs from Trullo in London to do a cheese tasting and, surprisingly, to enjoy an unexpected cacio e pepe.
Cacio and formaggio are two words for cheese, with cacio being the older term derived from the Latin word caseus, which may have come from cohaesus (cohesive), describing the transformation of milk into curds. Formaggio, on the other hand, came later from the medieval Latin formaticum (form), which in turn comes from the Greek φόρμος, the name given to the wicker container used to drain and shape curdled milk. Writing around AD50, the agronomist Columella noted that the best cheese is made with the least possible amount of medicine, a sentiment that remains true today.
The name pecorino, related to cheese, came later from the Latin pecus pecŏris (sheep). Like cacio, pecorino was (and is) a generic term applicable to infinite forms, historically not requiring any qualification or geographical identity because it was the local cheese (cacio). It was only when products moved beyond their place of origin that they needed to be identified, protected, and marketed, leading to the creation of various pecorino varieties such as pecorino sardo, pecorino romano, pecorino siciliano, pecorino toscano, pecorino filano, and pecorino crotonese. These are just the ones with official status; there are hundreds more.
While pecorino romano is not the only pecorino in the story of Roman and Lazio cuisine, it has been the cacio since ancient times. It's important to note that more than 95% of pecorino romano is produced on the cheesemaking island of Sardinia, with the rest coming from Lazio and the Tuscan province of Grosseto. Vincenzo works with Deroma dairy in Torrita Tiberina, using 12-month pecorino romano wheels with pale straw-colored rinds. These wheels are aged in the cave, where the microclimate and bacterial microflora within the walls contribute to the development of flavor. The creamy, sheepish, and sharp (salty) flavor deepens and becomes more complex over time, with each month adding a new layer of complexity.
The next cave along is occupied by a restaurant called Flavio al Velavevodetto. When discussing how to transform pecorino romano (cacio) and black pepper (pepe) into a creamy sauce, Vincenzo visited this cave. He returned with a cloth full of just-cooked tonnarelli, into which he tossed grated 36-month pecorino and black pepper. He gathered, shook, rubbed, and served the dish, which was interesting because this is likely how shepherds once made the dish and how clever innkeepers once encouraged clients to drink more. The soft, sandy molecules of cheese cling to the fresh pasta like sand, creating a unique and delicious experience.
Cacio e Pepe in a Cloth (in un panno)
Serves 2
Salt
100g pecorino
2 heaped tsp whole black peppercorns
1 very large napkin or cotton tea towel
300g fresh tonnarelli or tagliatelle
Bring a pan of well-salted water to a boil. Grate the cheese on the star side of the grater so it's soft and sandy, avoiding a microplane if possible. Crush the peppercorns with something heavy until they are coarsely crushed.
Prepare the cloth: it must be large enough that you can gather the ends and form a bag to shake. Cook the pasta according to the packet instructions until al dente. Use a spider slice or tongs to lift the pasta onto the cloth, spreading it out slightly to dry a little. Sprinkle the cheese and pepper over the top, then gather the ends of the cloth to form a bag. Shake and rub the fabric so the cheese distributes evenly in a sandy way.
Open the cloth and, if you're in a field, eat directly from it. Otherwise, lift it onto plates and serve with plenty of wine or water.
