Cacio e Pepe in a Trastevere Trattoria

Roman cuisine does not do complicated. It does simple things done with absolute commitment: rigatoni with amatriciana (tomato, guanciale, Pecorino); tonnarelli cacio e pepe (pasta with Pecorino Romano and black pepper); carbonara (egg, guanciale, Pecorino, no cream, never cream). These four pasta preparations are an argument that when the ingredients are right and the technique is perfect, there is no need for anything else. The cacio e pepe is the most elemental: pasta water, hard sheep's milk cheese, coarsely ground black pepper, and skill.

The technique is the thing. The cheese must emulsify with the starchy pasta water into a sauce rather than clumping or graining, and the pepper must be toasted to release its oils without burning. Get it right and the result is a silky, intensely savoury, peppery pasta that coats every surface evenly. Get it wrong and you have grainy pasta with cheese lumps, which is what most mediocre Roman restaurants serve. The places where they get it right are almost always small, family-run, with handwritten menus and no photos of the food.

Trastevere is Rome's most atmospheric neighbourhood — medieval alleys, ivy-covered buildings, piazzas with fountains where teenagers sit until two in the morning. The tourist-to-local ratio has shifted in recent years, but the neighbourhood still has excellent small trattorias if you walk away from the main square. Da Enzo al 29, Tonnarello, and Grazia and Graziella are starting points. Order the cacio e pepe, a carafe of house wine, and the supplì (rice croquette) to start. Refuse dessert unless they are making it themselves. Pay in cash if you can.