Pasta with Canned Tuna: The Great Debate.

I’ve never had anything against canned tuna. I love a good tuna melt on a pumpernickel bagel, or a quick version of spicy haraimi, but the day my friend proposed a nice plate of pasta col tonno and pulled out one of those little cans, I kind of recoiled in culinary horror.

As far as I was concerned, if it was once alive and breathing, Italian cooking would never stoop so low as to use a canned version. Was I ever wrong! Fifteen minutes later he put down a steaming plate of spaghetti in front of me and I devoured it incredulously. The sauce was tomato-based and savory and adhered to the al dente pasta in that perfect, only-in-Italy way. I could hardly taste the tuna, but something gave it that extra kick.

The other night, following a long and alcoholically indulgent weekend, a friend of mine suggested pasta col tonno for dinner. We were too lazy to hit the grocery store, and this being Rome it would have been closed anyway. He fished through my pantry and unearthed a dusty can of tuna and another of diced tomatoes.

I procured the olive oil, salt, peperoncino and a garlic clove.

“Oh no no! There’s no garlic or peperoncino in this recipe. It’s simple!” He was convinced. And Italian. Now I can hold my culinary own, but I’ve learned not to argue with a native—especially a Roman—in the kitchen. It has taken years to convince them that I won’t overcook the pasta or under-salt the water. My first tiramisu was met with shock and awe. They all asked for seconds though.

I let him make his tuna sauce, tasted it, and refused to bend. It was bland and I told him so. I ignored the old, “You’re American” comment and Googled it. I also called in for reinforcements.

I’m happy to report that I was right, and I will be proving it to him next time we’re too lazy and hung-over to cook anything else.

My Favorite Recipe:

Spaghetti col Tonno in Scatola (spghetti with canned tuna)
Serves four:

1/2-pound spaghetti
1 plump garlic clove (slightly smashed)
red pepper flakes to taste (a few shakes of the jar at least)
1 large can of tuna (drained)
1 can of diced tomato (preferably an Italian brand like Graziella)
1/2 cup of dry white wine
2-3 tablespoons olive oil

In a large saucepan, sauté the garlic clove and pepper flakes over a low heat. When the garlic is browned but not burned, remove from heat and add the tuna. Stir over low heat until tuna has a uniform texture. Add the wine, increasing the heat to cook it off (sfumata). Add the tomatoes, and fill the can 3/4 of the way with water and add it to the pan. Simmer until the sauce reduces and thickens. About 10-15 minutes.

Bring pasta water to a boil. Salt the water until it is savory when sipped from a spoon.
Cook al dente. Drain, leaving some pasta water aside. Combine the pasta and the sauce. Stir over medium heat adding pasta water to amalgamate.


Check back soon for more canned tuna recipes. I’m about to do a “quick fixes with flair” piece to kick off November….

Ciao baby!

Not Just Another Local Restaurant: Mamma Angelina

Mamma Angelina
Viale Boito Arrigo, 65
Tel 06 97615687

I’ve got to take you to Mamma Angelina.
He just kept saying it.

Whenever we were in the vicinity: Hey, Mamma Angelina’s just over on that street, I’ve got to take you there!

Whenever we split the bill at another neighborhood place: Mamma Angelina costs about the same, but the quality…. I’ve got to take you there!

Or when the wine list was too short, too expensive, or nonexistent: The wine list at Mamma Angelina is longer than the menu and it’s only a neighborhood place! I’ve got to take you!

And so he finally did. My friend Sacha, who despite his Russian name (Communist sympathies in the family? His mom is Natasha), is Roman by over nine generations and knows everyone on every block of the neighborhood. Most restaurant owners of the old establishments have watched him grow up seated at their tables and scrambling around their kitchens, so it’s safe to say that the guy knows his local eateries.

We booked a table for 8:30 on a Wednesday night. By 9pm the place was packed and the wait was, well, you wouldn’t wait. This is a place where diners linger. The décor doesn’t scream anything beyond generic Roman restaurant: wood paneled walls, ‘60s tile floors, characterless furniture, and paintings by somebody’s aunt.

The wine list was indeed longer than the menu, about an inch thick including the binding.
It started out with bubbly: Italian Spumanti and Prosecco, and included Champagne as well, an bold move for local restaurant on the outskirts of the city center. The rest of the list was divided by region and by color, and offered a great price range and excellent quality and price ratio. We ordered a Quarz Sauvignon Blanc from Alto Adige, a rare and delicious bottle I’d actually been looking for (lucklessly)! It’s smooth and citrus-y, crisp without that edge, and balanced in a way that few young Sauvignons are.

He ordered risotto alla crema di scampi, which comes in creamy tomato and brandy-infused sauce with the scampi themselves atop the rice. I had cappelletti pasta with baby calamari with black truffle. Cappelletti are like little inverted caps that cradle the sauce and make every bite succulent and delightful. Neither dish paired fantastically with the wine, but I was so excited to have found it that I refused to order anything else. It did accompany the delicately fried shrimp and calamari that followed, refreshing and cleansing on the palate as it was.

Mamma Angelina is more than a seafood place however. The moderately priced menu offers Roman comfort foods and all of the classics (matriciana, carbonara, etc), inventive pastas of the day, and enticing homemade desserts. I’ll definitely be going back, as it’s dangerously located just around the corner.