THE NONGLUTEN GUIDE TO ROME

For the first NONGLUTEN guide, we’re going to Rome—one of the best gluten-free destinations on the planet.

It probably won’t be news to most of you that the level of gluten-free literacy among servers, kitchen staff, and really all hospitality workers in Italy is sky-high. This is a country whose government gives a monthly stipend* to citizens with celiac disease, and restaurants tend to set celiac-level precautions as the baseline for gluten-free dining, not—as is too often the case at home—the exception.

What does this mean in practice? For one thing, nobody will ever ask you, “Is cross-contamination an issue?” Because they understand that for celiacs, cross-contamination is often the defining issue that can make dining out so difficult. Your pasta will be boiled and drained separately. Your pizza will be prepared and baked separately. Your naturally gf antipasti, secondi, and contorni will be handled with care. You can double-check (I always did, out of habit), but in return you’ll get confused stares that seem to say, “Duh…”

A HAVEN FOR DRIED PASTA

Rome happens to be a particularly good city for gluten-free pasta in particular, because its four canonical pasta dishes—carbonara, gricia, amatriciana, and cacio e pepe—are often traditionally served with dried rather than fresh pasta. (One exception is tonnarelli, fresh noodles similar to chitarra that are sometimes deployed for cacio e pepe).

Because so many restaurants in Rome can cater to gf diners, the question is usually not, “Do you have gluten-free pasta?” It’s: “What shapes of gluten-free pasta do you have?”

The Big Four Roman pastas are usually served with rigatoni, mezze maniche, spaghetti, or bucatini. I have not seen gluten-free bucatini anywhere, but the other three exist in extremely high-quality gf versions. Because of this, I hesitate to recommend any restaurants that offer penne as the only gluten-free option—it is the equivalent of giving you something off the kids menu. There are enough restaurants that offer the appropriate gf shapes—and to me, this really signifies that they care about their gluten-free customers in a way that the penne-pushers do not. Nobody should travel 8-10 hours by plane to eat penne.

SPOTLIGHT ON SECONDI AND CONTORNI

That being said, not every restaurant does offer gluten-free pasta, and that’s okay. I’d much rather a place foreclose the option altogether than throw us consolation penne. Luckily, Rome’s traditional secondi and contorni are often gluten-free, and represent an exciting opportunity to get to know the cuisine on a deeper level.

Lamb dishes—such as abbacchio alla romana (roasted suckling lamb) and abbacchio a scottadito (grilled lamb chops)—proliferate and are always a good choice, especially in spring. Coda alla vaccinara—braised oxtail in tomato sauce accented with celery—is another classic worth looking out for, as is pollo alla cacciatora, which, in all its bright, vinegar-forward glory has nothing to do with its tomatoey Italian American cousin.

Rome’s not too far from the coast—you will see it from the plane as you land—but most traditional local fish dishes center baccalà, or salt cod. Apart from filetti di baccalà, which are battered and fried, most of these dishes will be gluten-free—including tomatoey baked preparations and dishes that pair it with dried fruit and onions.

Roman food also places a heavy emphasis on seasonal vegetables, and you are never far from a serving of cicoria, the local chicory whose closest American equivalent would be dandelion greens. A little bit bitter with a deep, complex sweetness, this is a year-round staple always cooked down with vast quantities of olive oil.

In the mid-winter and spring there are artichokes—carciofi alla giudia, which are deep-fried, are often not celiac-safe, but caricofi alla romana, braised in olive oil with mint and garlic, are always a sure bet. Spring also brings peas and favas, plus asparagus and agretti (a coastal succulent similar to samphire); fall brings squash, mushrooms, cardoons (sometimes, sadly, breaded and fried), and my favorite—beautiful fractalized broccolo romanesco, which, pardon my language, they cook the shit out of. It turns into a big, garlicky pile of soft, pale-green rubble, and it is completely delicious.

Winter is the season of puntarelle, another type of chicory served raw in long, curly strands with a garlicky anchovy dressing. It’s a little bit like celery, but with a unique and invigorating flavor that defies easy comparison. That’s just an overview, though I fear I’m already going on too long. The message is: Rome is great for gluten-free versions of normally gluten-rich dishes, but do not sleep on everything else.

THE AiC AND WHAT IT MEANS

Finally, I’ll just mention the AiC**—the Associazione Italiana Celiachia—which has an accreditation program for restaurants, and a downloadable guide to places around the country that they have certified. Many (but not all) of these are dedicated.

This is a good place to start, but it does not tell the full story of possible celiac-safe dining options, especially in Rome. Restaurants included in this program have paid to undergo a training program, to be periodically assessed by the AiC, and to use the AiC’s logo. On the one hand, this shows that certain restaurants really do go above and beyond to show celiacs that they care, and the reassurance of an AiC certification is real. But plenty of restaurants who don’t participate in the AiC program can and do serve celiacs safely as well. I find the AiC’s resources to be most helpful for identifying celiac-safe bakeries and pizzerias.

FOOTNOTES

* For now there is a ridiculous €20/month gap between what men and women receive (about €110/month and €90/month, respectively). So the initiative can’t be fully applauded until this is rectified.

** In Italian, folks refer to this as “l’AiC,” which is pronounced l-EYE-tch

GF SHOPPING

Celiachiamo

Bring an empty extra suitcase to get the most out of this veritable celiac-safe wonderland, packed with an unbelievable array of snacks, baked goods, and—most importantly—pastas that are largely unavailable in the United States. We walked out of here with gluten-free orecchiette, garganelli, cavatelli, gramigna, strascinati, and so much more. About 25 boxes of pasta in all, plus several intriguing snacks. The entire haul—a comically, almost cartoonishly enormous amount of stuff—set us back only €50, and will pay dividends for many months to come.

There are five locations throughout the city, and while I probably should have scoped them all out, we only made it to the one in Tiburtina. This one had a bakery counter with a huge selection of cookies and pastries, plus a few savory things. Other locations have expanded offerings, including pizza al taglio. If you hit all five, let me know.

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GELATO

Come il Latte

Situated on a quiet side street not far from the Villa Borghese, Come il Latte makes some of the city’s smoothest gelato, with flavors so clear and piercing they ring out from your tongue to your brain like church bells. They don’t have gluten-free cones, but this is gelato that deserves to be experienced without interference in either taste or texture. So—cup in hand—find a bench, sit down, and lock in.

Their pistachio is so rich and grassy it is almost savory; their fiordilatte tastes of the purest, sweetest milk. Their stracciatella has just the right ratio of dark chocolate shards. And Lauren raves about their nocciola, but I can’t eat it because hazelnut makes my mouth itch. More for her.

In a city full of gelaterias with multiple locations, I like and respect that Come Il Latte has just this one, and I’ve never seen it too crowded. The friendly scoopers are always happy to walk through the flavors (a couple do contain gluten), and they’ll make sure you’re taken care of. They’ll also ask if you want whipped cream—and there’s no wrong answer.

Torcè

With a few locations around the city, Torcè offers a fully gluten-free roster of gelatos that come in gluten-free cones so burnished and crunchy, they make me suspicious. And because they are made of corn flour, they combine with the gelato to create a sort of cereal-and-milk vibe. I know I was just going on about the virtues of gelato from a cup, but sometimes you really do want a cone. And Torcè is a cone zone.

Of the many flavors I sampled here, my favorite was “fantasia di Bronte,” which combines Sicilian pistachios, almonds, and pine nuts. Subtle and creamy almond sorbetto was a close second. Another visit, scoops of licorice and dark chocolate were a bold pairing, though tempered by opting in to the whipped cream. One day Lauren got peanut—a sleeper hit, so don’t judge. When you’re eating enough gelato to even consider a choice like peanut, you know things are going well.

PIZZA

Ciro Cascella 3.0 - Naples

A caveat: we ate at the flagship location of this pizzeria in Naples, but there is one in Rome. The pizza at the Naples location was so good that I’d be remiss not to include it here.

This is by far the best gluten-free pizza we’ve had anywhere, and if it weren’t for the separate kitchens located at opposite ends of the restaurant, and the special individual AiC certifications that arrive with gf pizzas, I wouldn’t trust it. This is astonishingly delicious and utterly textbook Neapolitan pizza with zero compromises.

Now, some of this is because they do use deglutenized Caputo flour, which is not safe for folks allergic to wheat and can be, as I understand it, somewhat controversial among celiacs. Lauren tolerates this flour and we choose to defer to the AiC, which has very strict safety standards—they have no issue with it, and they certify this pizzeria and many others that use it.

I would love to comment on the atmosphere and a few other interesting things about this business, but cannot do so without violating my own rule about being negative in NONGLUTEN. So I’m afraid you will have to find out for yourself, and I really hope you do—because the pizza is worth it.

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Mama Eat

When we finished lunch at the Mama Eat in Ponte Milvio, I asked our charming Moldovan server what flours they use in their dough, because I sensed it wasn’t deglutenized Caputo. “Rice and the thing corn flakes are made of,” she replied.

It turns out that rice and the thing corn flakes are made of (corn) make a really good gluten-free pizza dough—the Neapolitan-style pies here arrive crisp with a fluffy interior, and even a bit of blistering around the cornicione. We tried one with eggplant and one with sausage and broccoli rabe, and enjoyed them both, even if we could definitely tell that they were gluten-free. In a way, I was relieved—Mama Eat also serves regular pizza (prepared and cooked separately), and I would have gotten paranoid if the gf ones were even a little bit better.

So in the end, it’s freeing to let this pizza simply exist and be good on its own terms. Don’t think about where you ate pizza in Rome before the diagnosis. Don’t think about where your friends are eating pizza in Rome. Don’t think about where Katie Parla is eating pizza in Rome. You are at Mama Eat and that’s okay. Just relax and enjoy.

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New Food Gluten Free

I’m not gonna sugar-coat it—New Food is not Bonci, but it is the best place to have a gluten-free version of Roman-style pizza al taglio. Their crust, made of a proprietary blend of flours that includes “farina di bambù,” is light and impressive, even if it doesn’t necessarily have the textural complexity achieved with wheat flour. But it’s not just about the crust; it’s also important what’s on top, and New Food offers all sorts of tempting things: one afternoon, we tried a terrific slice with radicchio, olives, and golden raisins.

More impressive than the pizza was a torta rustica (sometimes called pizza rustica), which is sort of like spanakopita or burek—flaky, buttery pastry with a smooth spinach and cheese filling. We regretted only getting one.

In the morning, New Food has great cornetti and other sweet things, though I’d stick to the savory side. I applaud what this business does for the local gf community and gf tourists, and they’ve got a key advantage over Bonci and its ilk: the line is much shorter.

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RESTAURANTS

Da Cesare al Casaletto

I was afraid this pre-diagnosis favorite of ours may not still be an option—no information to the contrary existed online—but I should have known better. This legendary trattoria is a beacon of hospitality and good cooking that wouldn’t want anybody to feel left out. And they don’t only offer Platonic ideals of all four Roman pastas with perfectly al dente gluten-free mezze maniche; they also have gluten-free supplì—oblong tomatoey rice balls stuffed with cheese—that are fried separately. We ate the regular ones three years ago on our honeymoon, and can report that these are every bit as good.

If you’re a party of two, I’d lean towards splitting two pastas—for what it’s worth, we favor the gricia—but the secondi and contorni deserve some attention too, and maybe you have room for everything. Lamb chops off the grill are lip-smacking and smoky; I’ve read good things about the baccalà but keep forgetting to order it. Carciofi alla romana, when in season, are delicate with an undercurrent of mint that other versions around town sometimes lack. Romanesco is reduced to a pile of divine mush, just how I like it.

The wine list highlights natural producers, and there are always interesting selections by the glass. Service is as warm as the convivial dining room, full of locals and a few tables of smart tourists whose flat American accents are powerless to pierce through the jovial din of well-fed Romans.

In nice weather, there’s a trellis-covered patio, and if you go for lunch, you’re quite close to the Villa Doria Pamphili for an afternoon walk in one of Rome’s largest public parks. But if you go for dinner—just get a taxi and go home. You’re gonna be full.

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Ristoro degli Angeli

There’s no other restaurant on this list that ticks quite as many boxes as Ristoro degli Angeli, a neighborhoody spot in Garbatella we also first visited on our honeymoon. The dining room is relaxed, welcoming, and full of personality, and the porticoed terrace is even more atmospheric and unique. The service is cheerful and attentive. And almost the entire menu is or can be gluten-free.

Cesare has gf mezze maniche and supplì, yes, but Ristoro has gf mezze maniche and gf fried zucchini blossoms in a rice-flour tempura batter stuffed with mozzarella and anchovies. They use the leftover batter to make delicious gf piadine—delicate little flatbreads—which comprise the gf bread service. It’s both resourceful and genius—and it doesn’t stop there. Ristoro is also one of very few places to offer gf tiramisu, topped with a salted chocolate crumble that manages to improve upon the standard dusting of cocoa powder. I never want to have tiramisu any other way.

This would all be enough to lock in a lifetime of repeat visits, but Ristoro is also the restaurant that introduced me to uova in trippa—strips of frittata served in tomato sauce with the local mint and pecorino that would normally accompany trippa alla romana. I wrote about it for the Washington Post, and it has become a staple of our home repertoire. This time, it was even better than I remembered. (And better than what I make at home).

There are natural wines by the glass, as well as a list of lesser known amari that I’d recommend consulting alongside dessert. That way, you’ll spill out onto the Piazza Bartolomeo Romano with an appropriately bittersweet taste in your mouth—it sucks that dinner’s over, but you’ll be back soon.

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Piatto Romano

Even though Piatto Romano’s prominently displayed wifi password is “rigatoniallapajata,” I would argue that it’s not primarily a pasta destination. And I’m not just saying that because they don’t have gluten-free pasta.

The one thing you see on every table—and really, ask anyone who’s been—is the misticanza, a salad of seasonally changing wild greens that owner Andrea D’Alfonsi told me he sources from about a dozen individual foragers. Some leaves are bitter, some are herby, some are faintly aromatic, some are sweet, some are soft, some are jagged. They are bound in a bracing anchovy dressing and crowned with an unexpected sprinkling of lemony sumac that ties it all together. By now you may have noticed that I’m prone to superlatives, but fuck it: this is the best salad in the world. Acetaria Mundi.

Alongside the salad, try an antipasto or two—this spring, we had the good fortune of sampling vignarola, the classic Roman dish of peas, artichokes, and favas studded with nubs of rendered guanciale. After that, basically all the secondi are open to you, but our favorite is the petto di vitello, a thinly sliced wood-oven-roasted veal breast smothered in a white wine-based sauce so flavorful I involuntarily pounded the table after my first bite.

Foraged greens show up again as contorni, and in three visits over the past three years we’ve enjoyed poppy leaves, nettles, borage leaves, squash leaves, and the more ubiquitous cicoria. Engorged with olive oil and accented with garlic and chili flake, they are all astoundingly delicious and essential accompaniments to any of the secondi. As far as I know, no other restaurant in Rome offers this variety of different leafy greens, most of which you’re unlikely to have ever eaten before, and all of which are fully of their place.

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Armando al Pantheon

During the entirety of our 75-minute meal at this well-known trattoria in the shadow of the Pantheon, the 1977 ballad “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton was playing softly from the kitchen on loop. The song’s runtime is 3:45, which means we heard it about 22 times in a row, and it really seemed like we were the only people in the restaurant who noticed. It made both of us feel insane—until the food started coming.

Yes, despite Clapton-gate, despite having to reserve 30 days in advance to the minute, despite the dining room exclusively full of other tourists, despite the bright lighting, and despite the brisk meal pacing, Armando is worth going to. The food is that good!

They don’t have gluten-free pasta, but you don’t need it. The antipasti—including a wonderful version of uova in trippa and carciofi alla romana generously paired with buffalo mozzarella—are almost all gluten-free, as are the secondi and contorni. Baccalà alla pizzaiola—roasted salt cod and potatoes with tomato sauce—was an unexpected hit, and historically appropriate for our Friday night reservation during Lent. The abbacchio alla romana introduced me to previously unknown realms of lamb chicharron, and earned our prestigious “Bite of the Time” designation on this recent trip. It belongs in the pantheon, not around the corner.

There are tradeoffs involved in choosing to dine here, and even mind-bendingly delicious lamb isn’t necessarily enough in a city where plenty of restaurants have killer food and other positive attributes. But I wouldn’t change anything about our meal at Armando, and—I think you know what I’m gonna say—when “Wonderful Tonight” finally stopped playing as we paid the bill, we wished someone would turn it back on.

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Bianca Trattoria

On the Monday night we ate at Bianca Trattoria, the vibe was kind of dead. Hushed tables of locals were scarfing down pasta, but there was no music playing, the bright lighting endemic to most Roman restaurants was annoying me more than usual, and the service was kind of disinterested. I made up my mind before any food even came—you never bat a thousand, and maybe this wasn’t the right call.

When the food came, my made-up mind was overruled. We came specifically for amatriciana, as Bianca has been specially recognized for its rendition of the dish, and it was spectacular. The guanciale was somehow both crisp and melty, offered in enough abundance to be amatriciana-appropriate, yet with enough restraint to be refined. And the sauce itself had a low hum of spice, which helped cut the richness and keep things light.

Feeling greedy, we actually both ordered amatriciana, so I got regular bucatini and Lauren got gf rigatoni. Unfortunately, our server messed up and brought her oxtail ragù. I was upset, but Lauren loved her rigatoni al sugo di coda so much, she couldn’t have cared less about what happened. The rest of our meal —red wine-braised beef cheeks with silky potato puree and our favorite plate of cicoria—made it official: Bianca has some minor issues, but the food is undeniable.

As we got up to leave, I thanked our server and he softened, mentioning that it was good we came on a Monday, because on busier weekend nights the kitchen has a harder time managing celiac precautions. This is good to know. Nice guy. When we come back—and we would come back—we’ll just bring a bluetooth speaker, a dimmer, and an open mind.

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Le Jardin de Russie

When traveling in Italy, I generally adhere to the rule that the higher-end the restaurant, the worse the food is going to be, and I avoid eating anywhere too fancy. But sometimes you want to splurge, and in Rome, Le Jardin is the place I like to do it.

Situated in the courtyard of the Hotel de Russie just off the Piazza del Popolo, Le Jardin’s tables are arranged on a gorgeous patio surrounded by citrus trees, flowering plants, and fountains. In cooler months, they enclose it in a glass-paneled structure, and I can’t decide which I like more—both set-ups are among the most scenic I’ve ever dined in. To take full advantage, it’s better to go for lunch.

Now, look—one strike against them, and I’m breaking my own rule, is that Le Jardin only offers gluten-free penne. So don’t get pasta. They make up for this transgression by serving gluten-free olive bread, which may not be as generous as the capacious and varied bread basket offered to everyone else, but is nonetheless well above-average.

Antipasti and contorni, like vignarola or agretti in spring, or puntarelle in the late fall and winter, are simple and showcase seasonal ingredients in their prime. None of the experimental nonsense you might expect at a place like this.

From there, I’d trust any fish secondo, or ask for a classic scaloppine di vitello—veal with prosciutto and sage—which they will happily prepare without its usual dusting of flour. Get an espresso just to linger as long as you can, and be sure to poke around the gardens on your way out. If you’re lucky, you’ll see a bright green parakeet bathing in a fountain. Maybe he’d like a piece of olive bread.

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NOTABLE MENTIONS

NONGLUTEN recommends these restaurants, but with an asterisk.

Romanè

I speak Italian, but sometimes servers like to practice their English—and our server here was practicing telling Lauren she couldn’t order even the gluten-free pasta until I intervened with some Italian-language advocacy and cleared things up. She really enjoyed her gf rigatoni all’amatriciana, and was totally fine, but I just feel iffy recommending it without this context. Things might turn out differently depending on the server you get—the important thing is they can accommodate gluten-free diners and they do practice celiac-safe precautions.

It’s a really good restaurant, and for what it’s worth, we also ate here pre-celiac and loved it.

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Trattoria Monti

Local friends took us to this popular neighborhood trattoria that specializes in the cuisine of Le Marche, where fresh pasta is more common. They offer gluten-free tagliatelle for their ragù—and it’s really good—but here, too, the server was a bit weird about actually letting Lauren order it until I advocated in Italian. I would only go here if you’ll be in town for longer than a few days and want to try a different style of regional pasta.

That being said, the secondi—including roasted suckling pig with crispy skin like the top of a crème brûlée—were good enough that I could easily endorse skipping pasta altogether.

No Website or Instagram. Here’s their Google page

THE PENNE DUNGEON

NONGLUTEN has penalized these restaurants for serving only gluten-free penne, and looks forward to reassessing them in the future.

Trattoria Pennestri

You literally can’t spell Pennestri without “Penne,” so I should have known it would be the only gluten-free shape available for their unusually smoky and brooding amatriciana. Both of us liked this restaurant a lot and would eagerly remove it from the dungeon as soon as they start offering gluten-free rigatoni or mezze maniche.

Giano

I was surprised that this Sicilian restaurant in the W Hotel was recommended by so many reputable sources, but a lot of the food we tried was quite good. However—serving penne alla norma when gluten-free rigatoni exists? That earns them a spot in the dungeon.

Le Jardin de Russie

The only restaurant to occupy a place in both the penne dungeon and in the main list, Le Jardin could erase this stain on its legacy by offering some of the more uncommon gluten-free shapes to match its elegant surroundings. They’re doing gluten-free olive bread, so clearly they are on the right path. I’m confident they won’t remain in the dungeon long.

Salumeria Roscioli

Okay, we haven’t been here since the diagnosis, and I’ll admit that’s partially because the whole thing has lost some magic for me since they opened in NYC. But the evidence on Find Me Gluten Free is damning—even these guys are doing penne. I’ll admit, there are also photos of fusilli. But is that enough to get them out of the dungeon? I don’t know. It brings me no pleasure to be hard on such a beloved restaurant group, so let’s hope they turn things around. If anyone can source something better than penne, it’s them.

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