Why Cacio e Pepe Represents Me
Cacio e pepe is one of my absolute favorite Italian pasta dishes. I’ve tried it in Rome, and it was a full-on mouthwatering experience. I’ll never forget the way the dish came alive with each and every bite. It’s simple, yes, but it carries so much depth. Creamy, spicy, with that sharp, salty kick—it’s unforgettable. Of course, nothing can ever live up to eating it in Rome, but it’s still delicious whether I make it at home or order it out. For me, it’s a dish that never disappoints.
At first glance, cacio e pepe doesn’t scream “choose me.” It looks plain, unassuming, certainly nothing fancy. But behind its simplicity lies so much personality. That’s why I feel like this dish is the perfect representation of me.

Like the pecorino Romano, I can be sharp and salty. That sharpness is my observant nature, my intelligence, and my witty, sarcastic edge. And yes, the saltiness comes out when I’m frustrated or overwhelmed. It’s part of my mystery, my bite, the side of me that surfaces if provoked. Sometimes when I watch the cheese slowly melt into the pasta, I think about how even a little sharpness can transform something simple into something memorable.

Then there’s the pepper—the spice, the heat, the zing. That’s my hot-headedness when I’m passionate about something. Pepper is complex, layered, and, like me, a little complicated. I jokingly call myself “neurospicy,” a term I’ve seen floating around online, but honestly, it fits. That spark, that fire—it’s not always visible, but it runs deep.

The pasta itself represents my loving nature and the support system of family and friends who hold me up. Pasta is the base, the foundation, the comfort that everything else rests upon. For me, that’s the love I carry inside and the people who surround me. It’s steady, grounding, and essential.

And finally, the whole dish reflects my calm, collected nature. For the most part, I’m easygoing. I don’t like to cause a fuss, and I often try to be the peacekeeper. Of course, I have my moments of heat, too—but to me, that balance feels just right.
Cacio e pepe may be made from only a handful of ingredients, but it’s more than it appears—simple yet layered, comforting yet bold. Just like me.
Cacio e Pepe
Ingredients
Method
- In a pot, bring water to boil. Make sure the water doesn't fill the pot – it should be shallow (ie. a lot less than the normal amount of water you would use to boil pasta). Lightly salt the water when it comes to a boil.
- In the mean time, finely grate the pecorino
- Add the spaghetti to the boiling water and cook it for half of the amount of time indicated on the box. It will finish cooking in the pan.
- While the pasta is cooking, heat a stainless steel pan over medium heat. Add the 1.5 teaspoon of pepper and toast it, maximum one minute. You should smell the aroma of black pepper, but don't burn it.
- Once the pepper is toasted add a ladle of pasta water to the pan.
- Boil the pasta for half the amount of time that the package indicates (eg. if it says, 10 minutes on the package, boil it for 5 minutes). Add the pasta to the pan (it will finish cooking in the pan – this process is called "risottare"
- Over medium heat, let the pasta finish cooking in the pan. Move it around with tongs, and by shaking the pan when it is cooking. Add pasta water as needed.
- While the pasta is cooking in the pan, add a small amount of pasta water to the grated pecorino. With a fork, mix the pasta water in until the mixture forms a paste. Set it aside.
- When the pasta is al dente, remove the pasta from the heat. Wait 30 seconds, and add the pecorino mixture to the pan, and stir quickly with tongs. A beautiful creamy consistency should form between the pecorino and the starchy liquid in the pan.
Notes
“Good food is very often, even most often, simple food.”
Anthony Bourdain
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