Anthony Bourdain spent years traveling the world on television, using meals as a way to understand people and the places they call home. He tasted extraordinary dishes across every continent and never pretended to love everything put in front of him. On one visit to Iceland, he memorably described fermented shark as “the worst thing I ever put in my mouth.” That blunt honesty is part of why his praise still carries real weight for food lovers.
Among the countless plates he encountered, one simple Roman pasta stood out so strongly that it became a kind of culinary shorthand for what he valued. In a 2011 episode of his show ‘The Layover’, he suggested that if you only have a few hours in Rome, you should prioritize eating this dish instead of racing through tourist landmarks. The pasta was cacio e pepe, a stripped down recipe that relies on technique rather than a long ingredient list. The idea was classic Bourdain, go straight to the experience that locals actually crave.
His relationship with the dish was not just talk, it was captured on camera when he tried an authentic version in Rome while filming ‘No Reservations’. The restaurant name was not revealed in that moment, but his reaction was immediate and intense. He called the pasta “the best thing in the history of the world.” For a chef and storyteller who had seen it all, that kind of superlative made people pay attention.
Fans later pieced together where that life changing bowl likely came from. They identified the spot as Roma Sparita, a family run restaurant in the Trastevere neighborhood. The restaurant is still open, and cacio e pepe remains on the menu for diners who want to chase that same moment. What makes the presentation unforgettable is that the pasta is served in a crisp bowl made from Pecorino Romano, turning the plate into part of the meal.
It is easy to understand why this dish lands so hard when it is done properly. Cacio e pepe looks almost too plain on paper, yet the flavor can be layered and bold when the cheese and pepper hit the right balance. The pepper should be fragrant and freshly cracked, not dusty and flat. The cheese should be sharp and salty, coating each strand of spaghetti in a silky sauce that tastes both comforting and electric.
That “silky” part is what separates true Roman technique from the versions that disappoint. Some Americanized takes try to shortcut the sauce with cream, which changes the dish into something else entirely. Traditional cacio e pepe depends on the starchy pasta water and the fine grating of Pecorino Romano to create an emulsion. When it works, the sauce clings without clumping, and the pepper pops through the richness instead of getting lost.
Making it at home is absolutely possible, but it rewards patience and attention. The ingredient list is famously short, usually just spaghetti, Pecorino Romano, and black pepper, yet small choices matter. Using a microplane or very fine grater helps the cheese melt smoothly. Letting the pasta water cool slightly before mixing can reduce the risk of a grainy sauce, since overheating can cause the cheese proteins to seize.
There is also something fitting about this dish becoming a Bourdain icon. Cacio e pepe is not showy, and it does not rely on expensive cuts of meat or elaborate garnishes. It is a reminder that food can be world class when it reflects a place’s habits and history rather than chasing novelty. In that sense, his offhand advice to skip the Vatican for pasta is really a statement about how to travel with intention.
For readers who want more context beyond the Bourdain moment, cacio e pepe is one of Rome’s signature pasta traditions, often grouped with other local classics like carbonara, gricia, and amatriciana. Its name translates roughly to cheese and pepper, and those two ingredients are meant to do most of the talking. Pecorino Romano is a hard sheep’s milk cheese with a punchy, salty edge that stands up to heavy pepper. Black pepper is not just seasoning here, it is a core flavor, and many cooks toast it briefly to bring out its aroma.
The dish also highlights an important idea in Italian cooking, which is that technique can be as central as ingredients. The sauce is essentially an emulsion, created by combining cheese with hot, starchy water and fat from the cooking process to form a cohesive coating. That is why timing and temperature are so important, even if the recipe seems almost too simple. When the method is right, you get a glossy finish and a deep savory bite that feels far more complex than three ingredients suggest.
If you have tried cacio e pepe in Rome or attempted it in your own kitchen, share your thoughts on what makes a truly great version in the comments.
