
Chef Graziella
Arista alla Fiorentina
The roast pork of Florence: bone-in loin studded with rosemary and garlic, nothing more. This is the dish that earned its name from a Byzantine bishop who declared it aristos, the best.
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Hand-rolled Tuscan pasta ropes, thick as a pencil and irregular as the hills around Siena, dressed in nothing but sheep's milk cheese and black pepper. Two ingredients. No margin for error.
Cacio e pepe belongs to Rome. Every Roman will tell you so. But pici belongs to Tuscany, and when the two meet, something happens that neither city can claim as its own.
Pici are peasant noodles, rolled by hand from flour and water, no eggs, nothing fancy. They are thick, chewy, and irregular. Farm wives in the hills around Siena and Montepulciano have made them for centuries, rolling each strand under their palms until their arms ached. The thickness changes everything. Where Roman tonnarelli slips through the cheese sauce quickly, pici holds it, traps it in every crevice and curve. You taste more pepper, more cheese, more of what makes this dish worth making.
Simple does not mean easy. Two ingredients and flour and water, and yet this dish defeats more ambitious cooks than anything with twenty components. The emulsion breaks if your water is too hot. It seizes if your cheese is grated too coarse. The pepper tastes flat if it came from a jar instead of under your pestle. What you keep out is as significant as what you put in. There is nowhere to hide here.
Pici originated in the province of Siena, likely before the Renaissance, when farm families needed filling food from pantry staples. The pasta appears in accounts from the Val d'Orcia and Valdichiana regions, where shepherds and contadini rolled thick noodles to serve with whatever sauce the season allowed. Pairing pici with cacio e pepe is a more recent invention, a marriage of Tuscan pasta with Roman seasoning that honors both traditions.
Quantity
2 cups (250g)
Quantity
3/4 cup
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
6 ounces (about 2 cups)
finely grated
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
for pasta water
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| tipo 00 flour or all-purpose flour | 2 cups (250g) |
| warm water | 3/4 cup |
| extra virgin olive oil | 2 tablespoons |
| fine sea salt | 1/2 teaspoon |
| Pecorino Romanofinely grated | 6 ounces (about 2 cups) |
| whole black peppercorns | 2 tablespoons |
| kosher salt | for pasta water |
Mound the flour on a wooden board and create a well in the center. Add the warm water, olive oil, and salt to the well. Using a fork, gradually draw flour from the inner walls of the well into the liquid, working in circles until a shaggy mass forms. Knead with your hands until smooth, about 8 to 10 minutes. The dough should be firm but pliable, not sticky. Wrap in plastic and rest at room temperature for 30 minutes.
Cut the rested dough into four pieces. Work with one piece at a time, keeping the rest covered. Roll the dough into a thick sheet, about one-quarter inch. Cut into strips one-half inch wide. Take each strip and roll it under your palms on an unfloured surface, working from the center outward, until you have an irregular rope about the thickness of a pencil, roughly 10 inches long. The irregularity is correct. Perfectly uniform pici would be a contradiction.
Place the peppercorns in a dry skillet over medium heat. Toast, shaking the pan occasionally, until fragrant and you see the first wisps of smoke, about 2 minutes. Transfer immediately to a mortar or spice grinder. Crush coarsely. You want visible shards and irregular pieces, not powder. Set aside.
Grate the Pecorino Romano on the finest holes of a box grater or with a Microplane. The cheese must be almost powdery. Large shreds will not emulsify properly and you will have clumps instead of cream. Place in a bowl and set aside.
Bring a large pot of water to a vigorous boil. Salt it well, though slightly less than you might for other pasta. The cheese adds considerable salt. Add the pici and stir immediately to prevent sticking. Cook until tender with pleasant resistance, 4 to 5 minutes for fresh pici. The thick noodles need more time than you expect. Before draining, reserve at least two cups of the cooking water. You will need it.
While the pasta cooks, place the crushed pepper in a large, cold skillet. Add one cup of the starchy pasta water. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and cook for one minute. This blooms the pepper and infuses the water. Remove from heat and let cool for 30 seconds. The water must not be boiling when the cheese is added.
Add the grated Pecorino to the warm pepper water in three additions, stirring vigorously with a wooden spoon after each. The cheese should melt into a creamy sauce, not clump into strings. If it seizes, the water was too hot. If it stays grainy, the water was too cool. Add small splashes of pasta water as needed to keep the consistency loose and creamy.
Drain the pici and add directly to the skillet with the cheese sauce. Toss vigorously over low heat, adding pasta water a tablespoon at a time until the sauce coats each strand in a glossy, creamy emulsion. The sauce should cling, not pool. Serve immediately in warm bowls, finishing with additional pepper. Do not add more cheese at the table. The balance is already correct. Once the pasta is sauced, serve it promptly, inviting your guests and family to put off talking and start eating.
1 serving (about 190g)
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