Gluten-free Rome

Please read my 2018 update! 

Not many gluten-free travelers realize that coeliacs exist in Italy too.

The boot-shaped peninsula seems like the last place where you'd enjoy a gluten-free meal, what with all the pasta, pizza, bread, focaccia, salumi and other Italian specialties and staples. But celiacs in Italy can enjoy a large variety of gluten-free foods at every meal.

For example, mornings can have a sunny start with gluten-free croissants (cornetti senza glutine) along with steaming cappuccino. Midday snacks and main meals can include gluten-free panini, gluten-free pasta, gluten-free beer, gluten-free pizza, and even gluten-free gelato, served in a flour-less cone.

gluten: substance present in cereal grains, especially wheat, that is responsible for the elastic tissue of dough. A mixture of two proteins, it causes disorders in people with celiac disease and gluten sensitivities.

Prompted by a celiac friend skeptical of traveling to Italy, I did a little research, tried various products and after a number of wheat-less meals, I came up with this little list of gluten-free dining options in Rome.

Baiamonti Lounge Bar - Charming pizzeria, cafe and tavola calda (informal, cafeteria-style) that caters exclusively to celiacs. Via Baiamonti, 12 (Prati) - Tel. +39 0637351954

Hotel Diana Roof Garden - Dine sans wheat on a breathtaking terrace with sweeping views of the Vatican and tiled rooftops. Via Principe Amedeo, 4 (Esquilino) - Tel. +39 06478681

Il Capriccio di Trastevere - This fun trattoria offers a large number of gluten-free options along with their regular menu of Sicilian specialties. Via Roma Libera, 19 (Trastevere) - Tel. +39 065816469

Polenta (slow-cooked cornmeal) is a typical northern Italian staple, and totally gluten-free.

Il Viaggio - Sitting in the pastel rooms of Il Viaggio, celiacs can pick from an impressive list of wheat-less dishes, from antipasto through dessert, and choose between 3 variegated tasting menus. Via Isonzo, 14 (Nomentano) - Tel. +39 0697997043

Insomnia - Great seafood and homemade desserts in this restaurant and pizzeria that has prides in providing numerous gluten-free preparations, including pizza, pasta and fried goodies since 2007. Via Portuense, 469 - Tel. +39 0655389376

Giancarlone al 19 - Giancarlone cooks up some of the city's best homestyle Roman cuisine, with an eye for celiac pizza-lovers. Via Durazzo, 19 (Prati) - Tel. +39 0666014164

'O Masto - Pizzeria in EUR that serves Napoli-style thick crust pizzas, receives daily deliveries of mozzarella di bufala and limoncello from Naples, and coats its ambrosial fritti with celiac-approved breadcrumbs. Largo Salinari, 8/16 (Tre Fontane) - Tel. +39 065413448

Mama! Eat - Appealing joint that serves up a plethora of delicious gluten-free options, including pizza, several pasta dishes, tasty grilled panini, desserts and beer. Via di San Cosimato, 7 (Trastevere) - Tel. +39 065806222

Renovatio | La Soffitta - Home to some of the best gluten-free cuisine in town. Specialties include antipasti, thin crust pizza, Roman pastas classics like carbonara, and homemade desserts. Piazza Risorgimento 46a (Vatican) - Tel. +39 0668892977

Tramvì - Within the compound of the children's museum Explora, celiacs can enjoy palatable dishes in a colorful setting. And free parking in a virtually carless zone. Via Flaminia 82 (Piazza del Popolo) - Tel. +39 0632600432

Universale Caffè - Wheat-less pastries and sweets are served along side freshly brewed espresso and exotic teas, as well as gluten-free appetizers with drinks. The place is located at a stone's throw from Piazza Navona and the Pantheon. Via delle Coppelle, 16/a (Pantheon) - Tel. +39 0668392065

Voglia di Pizza - Bakes flour-less pies, served with gluten-free beer, both at deliciously small prices in otherwise costly surroundings. Via dei Giubbonari, 33 (Campo de' Fiori) - Tel. +39 066875293

Beyond the city center:

Agriturismo Santa Anastasia - In the lovely setting of this rustic working farm and B+B minutes away from the center of town, the wood-fired brick oven and grill churn steaks and gluten-free pizzas until late at night. Via Torre Sant'Anastasia, 83 (Ardeatina) - Tel. +39 0671350361 - temporarily closed for renovation (2018)

Al Colle - Besides the delightful wheat-less pizzas, this place rocks a lush garden and a romantic terrace overlooking the Tuscolo winelands. Via di Passolombardo, 212 (Romanina) - Tel +39 067201032

Stella Marina - The special gluten-free menu includes wheat-less ravioli, potato gnocchi, and fettuccine, all dressed with delicious seafood condiments, plus stellar homemade breads, cakes, crostate, tiramisù, and sorbets. Via Nino Taranto, 29 (Acilia) - Tel. +39 0652440215

Favorable facts for celiacs in Italy:

• In Italy celiacs receive a monthly allowance from the government for gluten-free foods.
• By law gluten-free foods must be available to celiacs in schools, hospitals, and public places, like malls and cinemas.
• All pharmacy products are required to indicate the presence of gluten on labels.
• All food labels must indicate the presence of gluten.

Soy–, yeast– and gluten–free "occhi di bue" cookies

Useful resources:

Associazione Italiana Celiachia ~ Italian celiac disease association
Cose dell'Altro Pane ~ Artisan GF products
Celiachiamo.com ~ Intolerance-awareness website, has now opened 2 shops in Rome
Glutenfree Roads ~ GF travel website
Celiacando ~ GF grocery store

Biscotti book review

Biscotti is a book on how a cookie can save your life. Baked and written by Mona Talbott and Mirella Misenti

I had never been to the American Academy in Rome. I missed the Alice Waters visit in spring and never followed up on the insisting advice of friends, fellows and bloggers to sit down at the AAR table and and enjoy the fruits of its collaborative dining program. I'd been putting off savoring the delightful fares prepared by Executive Chef Mona Talbott and her busy staff of assistants, interns and supporters of the Rome Sustainable Food Project for too long.

So yesterday I broke the spell. I walked through the heavy gates of the Academy's monumental main entrance, and timidly followed my steps as they echoed in the stunning courtyard lined with marble busts and bas reliefs.

Memories of teenhood naturally occupied my mind as I noticed the house next door. A beautiful two-storey townhouse nestled in a corner of the Janiculum Hill, where my mates Claudia and Joana once lived with their parents Celeste Maia and Robert during their stay in Rome. Growing up here, and living in apartment buildings, it's rare to experience a "house" in the middle of the city. Sloped roof, wooden floors, personal handrail on the stairs, children's height measurements etched in a door frame, back door, garden... a house. I loved that house. Most of all I loved the olfactory impact it had on me each time I first walked in: the aromas of Maia's Mozambique/Portuguese fusion cuisine mixed with the adorable smell of oil paint oozing from small metal tubes and unfinished canvases in her studio.

Peeking through the hedge as I neared the Academy's main building, I took a moment to observe the house. Not so big as I remembered it (funny how size and scale invert as you grow up). It's undergone a little renovating, gotten a fresh hand of paint and a lazy gardener has let the surrounding lush forest slack a bit. But it still exercises its fascinating charm on me. I continue straight ahead.

End of digression.

Light drizzle of rain. Warm lighting invades the cold winter from the cozy salone to the right of the main staircase. I catch a glimpse of Mona Talbott tending last minute tweaks to the buffet table laden with trays of spiced and nutty cookies, turning a perfect salver of minuscule fig-newtons clockwise by 2 degrees, brushing a crumb from the white linen tablecloth...

Downstairs, the panel is ready. The room is packed, interns proudly occupy the front rows. Kids high on sugar and beauty, giggle behind door jambs. The room falls silent. Mona Talbott introduces the book BISCOTTI, written and baked a quattro mani–four hands for a magic duo. Fifty recipes. Fifty love letters to the palate. Each memorable little cookie infused with the history and conviviality of la cucina romana, rich Sicilian confectionery art, Chez Panisse, American childhoods, tall glasses of milk, and solid international friendships. All coconut kisses, pistachio morsels and sesame Reginas aside, the best part of the afternoon tea and book presentation, is meeting Mona's co-author, Mirella. A shy and graceful donna del sud.

Sicilian-born Mirella Misenti worked in the Academy's kitchen as dishwasher. As told beautifully in Mona's introduction of BISCOTTI, Mirella was never a professional cook. But like many of us Italians, grew up cooking and baking alongside her mother, nonna, aunts, etc. Possessing the passion, pride, and perfectionism necessary to qualify as pastry chef, she was "promoted" in the field by Mona. Happily wearing a different apron, Mirella began making her native island's biscotti, and not just for fun, or for staff snacks. Mona describes Mirella's Sicilian pastry knowledge and cookie contributions as elegant and inspired. They took their rightful place in the American Academy's daily production.

As I drive back home, the rain has subsided. I smile at the pleasant irony of having bumped into many friends, made new ones and worked out extraordinary coincidental acquaintances and schoolmates from my academic past in a setting like the Rome American Academy.
Signed copy of the book and stash of biscotti tucked in my handbag, I linger on Mona's kind words, "Without Mirella there would be no Rome Sustainable Food Project Biscotti book––she was the key ingredient."

That's why I believe this is not only a committed and socially involved recipe compendium. It's a book about friendship, love, and how a cookie can indeed save your life.

Image © Annie Schlechter

Ossa dei morti recipe

My Nonna Titta raised me like a mother; like all grandmothers do in Italy–even before it was customary for working moms to leave home to bring income to the household.

Yet Giuditta–Titta for her friends and immediate family–was not your average granny. She told fairy tales, baked cakes and occasionally knitted; but in her youth she had been a talented, successful and beautiful theater actress. And with a childhood worthy of a novel.

Born into a theater family, she began touring around the world with the Ermete Zacconi theater company along with her parents and brothers from when she was old enough to stand (as a small child she was forced to play only boys' roles, a female child in theater was not happy news). The kids (four boys and one girl, Titta) were the younger thespians acting opposite turn of the century celebrities, while my great-grandfather was the "trovarobe," in charge of painting backdrops, collecting furniture, set dressing, props, etc. Nowadays this role is called Production Designer. His wife, my bisnonna Luigia, was a seamstress. She designed all the costumes for each production, and was in charge of cutting, stitching and fitting all.

This wild assortment of talent traveled away from Italy each summer, headed to South America, where the company performed mostly for immigrant patrons in theaters all over Paraguay, Uruguay, Argentina and Chile. Italians didn't only land in Ellis Island…

My nonna Titta didn't speak a word of English, but thanks to these annual 6-month tours, she was fluent in Spanish and grasped the rudiments of Portuguese.

Once the season ended abroad, the company would pack the staging equipment and navigate the Atlantic on steamships back to Europe, just in time for winter in the northern hemisphere. Titta loved the summer, because for so many years of touring, she said, summer was not an option.

Later, as she grew into a teen and then into a young woman, her talent and sophisticated flair put her in the limelight. She soon became leading lady in many popular 1920s stage productions, and her repertoire spanned from the Greek classics, Shakespearean drama, to humorous, intelligent and ironic contemporary pieces. In 1930 she met my grandfather, whom she formed a company with, and eventually married seven years later. My mom was born the following year, and this gave Titta the chance to finally retire from the theater scene at age 42.

Nonna and Nonno in Venice

Despite her separation from my grandfather (divorce didn't exist in Italy at the time), the hardships of WWII Italy, and being a single mother in the 1950s, Nonna managed to keep it together, and star in 25 films between 1933 and 1966. One of the last roles she played was in 1962, as Marcello Matroianni's mother in the Fellini masterpiece 8 1/2.

As I said, like many nonnas, mine was a key figure during my childhood, she was there for me while my mom was working full time, adjusting to divorced life, and mourning my grandfather's premature death. Nonna Titta was great company, a playful, unconventional, tender and witty companion. She and I produced wonderful role games, during which I'd introduce her to my latest child (I owned many dolls at the time) and we'd chat and gossip like ladies over teacups of sugared tap water. Nonna spoiled me like only grandparents can (and are allowed to). And she taught me to appreciate good food through her virtuoso cooking skills.

Me and Nonna, 1970

My son didn't get a chance to meet his great-grandparents, one of my biggest regrets. It's important that he learn about his extended family, here in Italy and the one abroad. I can start by introducing him to his great-grandmother Titta, by telling him her wonderful stories, showing him photographs and paintings, reproduce her recipes and replicate those everyday gestures of love I grew with.

Halloween is a recent celebration in Italy. The related observance we do honor on the other hand is i morti: an Italian two-day festivity bridging November 1st (All Soul's Day) and November 2nd (Day of the Dead). This is not a morbid or mournful holiday, rather a celebration of life. Ossa dei Morti, or "Bones of the Dead," are among the numerous traditional (and almost always almond-laced) Italian cookies commonly enjoyed on this occasion. There are many different regional recipes for Ossa dei Morti, these particular hard and crunchy meringue ones are from Piemonte, where nonna Titta was originally from.

She was very superstitious, so I hope she won’t mind if I associate her to this rather disturbing, sepulchral recipe name. If you hear thunder tomorrow, it’s probably her, complaining from heaven.

250 g (1 cup) flour
100 g (1 1/4 cup) hazelnuts (ideally from the Langhe region, in Piemonte), shelled and left whole
100 g (1 1/4 cup) almonds, coarsely ground (I put them in a freezer bag and pound the heck out of them)
400 g (2 1/4 cups) brown sugar
2 egg whites, beaten
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Pinch of ground cloves
Pinch of cinnamon
Butter and flour to grease and dredge the cookie sheet

In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, egg whites, and lemon juice. Work in the nuts and spices, and continue kneading until you have a fairly firm dough. Roll the ball of dough out with your hands forming it into a rope. Cut the rope into 2-inch sections.

Preheat oven to 180° C (360° F).

Butter your cookie sheet, dust with flour, and lay the 'bones' on it distanced form one another, and bake for about 20 minutes. Let the cookies cool to jaw-breaking hardness before serving with a glass of Moscato or Vin Santo. Amen.

Image © savoringtimeinthekitchen.blogspot.com

Frollini, Italian shortbread cookie recipe

I love it when you dunk a cookie in a hot cup of tea or a chilled glass of milk and just as you’re bringing it to your mouth for a sensual devouring kiss, it drops messily back in the liquid, attracted more by love for the beverage, than gravity pull. 

This happens especially with those shortbread-like, buttery cookies commonly called frollini in Italian.  Ignoring the disastrous milk-spattered battleground around my mug, I fish the sunken frollini out with my spoon. They are completely reduced to a mushy, almost liquid state. The smaller crumbs that swim effortlessly at the bottom of my cup, swirl back into my mouth, as I drink the last sweet drops of the cloudy cookie soup.

I usually make my frollini in the evening, letting them cool overnight so I can eat them first thing in the morning–paired in twos–in a back-to-back dive in my steaming pint of breakfast caffelatte. This makes a large batch.

500 g (1.1 lb) all purpose flour
180 g (1 scant cup) sugar
100 g (1/2 cup) butter (I use salted)
1 egg, beaten
3 tbsp. whole milk, warmed
2 tbsp. organic honey
1 tsp. baking powder
Salt (if your butter is unsalted)


Preheat oven at 180° C (356° F).

Work the butter and sugar with a fork into a frothy fluff. Add the beaten egg, the honey and a pinch of salt, mixing with your fingers.

Dissolve the baking powder in the warmed milk, sift in the flour and add it all to the mixture, kneading gently into a smooth ball.

Flatten with a rolling pin to 1/8-inch and cut out shapes with a cookie cutter. 

Sprinkle with sugar. Bake on a buttered cookie sheet for 10-15 minutes.

It's dark outside and it smells wonderful in the kitchen.

Ciambelline al Vino recipe

I like finishing dinner with something sweet. But sometimes dessert is too much, especially after a hearty meal. In that case, dipping dried biscuits in the leftover red wine in my glass is the best way to end the evening.


The most famous dipping biscotti are the Tuscan Cantucci, known for their jaw-breaking hardness and their toasted almond surprise. Cantucci's liquor of choice is Tuscan vin santo, an auburn sweet dessert wine made with Trebbiano or Malvasia grapes. My thing are instead ciambelline al vino. Dry, crunchy sugar biscuits made WITH wine, and made FOR wine. The recipe to prepare them is absurdly easy, and the result is obscenely tasty. Try it.
800 gr (4 cups) all purpose flour, sifted

300 g (1 1/2 cups) sugar
250 ml (1 cup) good red wine
200 ml (7 fl oz) olive oil
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 teaspoon pastry yeast
A pinch of salt

Preheat oven at 180° C (350° F).

In a bowl, mix the liquids and the sugar with a wooden spoon. Add the sifted flour, yeast and vanilla extract with the salt little by little, to obtain a firm and slightly wet, yet not sticky mixture. Knead into a soft, supple dough and allow it to rest for about 30 minutes, covered. Cut the dough and roll into foot-long ropes, about 1/2 inch thick. Cut each rope into 20 cm sections and shape them into rings, clasping the ends with a little pressure. You can also use a cookie-cutter to form your ciambelline (which is a diminutive of ciambelle–"life savers").

Press the ciambelline in the sugar to coat, and bake in the oven on a greased cookie sheet for 20-30 minutes, or until golden.

Cool completely before serving after dinner, dipping them liberally in your wine glass. Sucking on the ciambelline, making noises and moaning while eating is encouraged. Kids are allowed a taste too, but only on special occasions.

Images courtesy of Forchettina.it, Gnocchettoalpomodoro.it

Biscotti brutti ma buoni recipe

A biscuit is a small baked morsel of love. The exact meaning varies markedly in different parts of the world. In the United States and Canada, a cookie is what the same small, flat-baked treat is called. It is usually round, containing milk, flour, eggs, and sugar, etc. In most English-speaking countries outside North America, the most common word for this is biscuit. In many regions both terms are used, while in others the two words have different meanings – a cookie is a plain bun in Scotland, while in the United States a biscuit is a kind of quick bread similar to a scone.

The origin of the English word "biscuit" is from Latin via Middle French and means "cooked twice," hence bis-cotti in Italian. Whatever their name, origin or exact meaning and shape, biscotti rock. Some harder than others.

Brutti ma Buoni recipe

The term brutti ma buoni means 'ugly but good,' and is quite apt, because these traditional drop cookies don’t look too attractive, but vanish off the serving plate in minutes. They take a little effort to make, but are well worth it.

250 g (1 1/4 cups) powdered sugar
100 g (1/2 cup) blanched peeled, and toasted almonds
100 g (1/2 cup) toasted hazelnuts, shelled
6 egg whites
A healthy pinch of powdered cloves and powdered cinnamon
1/2 tsp of vanillin or a few drops vanilla extract

Grind the nuts to a powder, ideally using a mortar and pestle (the toasting of the nuts makes this operation much more successful). If you don’t have a mortar and pestle, either chop the nuts very finely by hand, or pulse them to a powder in your blender.

Beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form, and carefully fold in the nuts, sugar, spices, and vanilla.

Turn the batter into a saucepan and heat it, stirring gently, over a low flame until it thickens and just becomes golden in color; this will take about a half hour.

While doing this, preheat your oven to 160°C (320°F) and butter a cookie sheet.

Take the thickened batter, and drop it, less than a tablespoon (about half a walnuts' worth) at a time, onto the cookie sheet, leaving some space between drops. Bake the Ugly but Good for about 40 minutes. Let them cool thoroughly and enjoy with a glass of robust red wine and a good book.

And if you simply cannot bake, head over to Biscottificio Innocenti and ask Stefania for the best brutti ma buoni in Rome.

Salame di Cioccolato, chocolate and cookie cake

Photo © Alberto Blasetti/Cibando

For this week’s What’s Cooking Wednesday, I've decided to go with something soul stirring. This typical Roman winter dessert uses two of my favorite sweet ingredients, chocolate and cookies. I made it as a reward after a long and intense day at work today. Nothing like winding down with some serious cioccolato action, a glass of red wine and some vintage R&B. The decadent delight I want to share with you today looks quite like a salami, and it is served sliced, which explains its name.

100 g (1/2 cup) milk chocolate, broken into pieces
100 g (1/2 cup) black chocolate (not more bitter than 70% pure cocoa), broken into bits
100 g (1/2 cup) butter, softened
50 g (1/4 cup) brown sugar
1 egg + 2 yolks
200 g (1 cup) Petit Beurre or Osvego-type biscuits (can be substituted with graham crackers or shortbread), coarsely crumbled

Melt the butter and the chocolates over a very mild flame, stirring to make sure they don’t stick or reach a boiling point. 

Beat the eggs with the sugar and melted chocolates, and stir in the broken biscuits to obtain a thick, ‘gluey’ dough (for want of a better term).

Once the mix is cool, place it in a loaf tin or plum cake mold lined with foil and pop it in the freezer to harden.

Serve at room temperature, sliced. To be mandatorily eaten with your hands, in order for the chocolate to melt sensually both in mouth and at your fingertips, provoking a wide multitude of pleasurable sensations.