Every pasta sauce we have so far.
A growing library of Italy's authentic pasta sauces, organised by region and base ingredient. This is where you browse, compare, and fall down the rabbit hole.
Base category
Region
Dietary
Ingredients
Pasta
Alla Norma
The Sicilian pasta that carries a name from opera. Fried aubergine, sweet tomato, ricotta salata, basil — four components that only work when each one is done correctly.
Marinara
A Neapolitan sauce with no pretensions. Tomato, garlic, oil, basil, oregano — done in the time it takes to boil the pasta. Simplicity is not the same as easy.
Ragù alla Bolognese
A slow-cooked, complex meat sauce. It is not a 'meat-flavoured tomato sauce'—it is a meat sauce that happens to have a little tomato.
Carbonara
A Roman dish built on patience and restraint. The richness you taste is not cream — it is the alchemy of egg yolk, aged cheese, and the water your pasta cooked in.
Aglio e Olio
Rome distilled to four ingredients. The result depends entirely on how you treat the garlic.
Cacio e Pepe
Beyond simplicity lies complexity. Cheese and pepper. That is all. Yet the three-minute emulsification required to build this sauce separates the masters from the novices.
Burro e Parmigiano (Alfredo)
A silken emulsion of butter, Parmigiano Reggiano, and pasta water. Roman simplicity at its peak—no cream, only technique. The sauce emerges when cold butter meets hot pasta and starchy water.
Alle Vongole
The sea served on pasta. Clams, white wine, garlic, parsley — nothing added, nothing covered up.
Amatriciana
A bold, rustic sauce from the mountain town of Amatrice. It is the evolution of Gricia, adding tomato to the holy trinity of guanciale, pecorino, and pepper.
Pesto alla Genovese
A vibrant, aromatic cold sauce that captures the essence of the Ligurian coast. It is a pound-by-pound masterpiece of basil, nuts, and cheese.
Puttanesca
A bold, pungent sauce of Neapolitan street food. Built on tomatoes, olives, capers, and anchovies — complex, salty, assertive, and unapologetic.
Vignarola
A springtime celebration of Rome's finest vegetables—fava beans, peas, and artichokes tossed with guanciale and Pecorino Romano. Light, seasonal, and deeply Roman.
Papalina
A creamy Roman sauce of peas, heavy cream, and either prosciutto or guanciale. It is a richer cousin to Peas and Bacon, with papal grandeur in its name.
Zozzona
A rustic, hearty Roman pasta of tomatoes, pancetta, and a hint of cream. The name comes from the Roman dialect word 'zozz,' meaning dirty, simple man—it's a working person's dish.
Gricia
The ancestor of Carbonara. Guanciale, Pecorino, and black pepper without the egg—a dish of pure Roman clarity, celebrated for its restraint.
Arrabiata
The angry sauce. Four ingredients, one rule: enough chili to matter.
Funghi Porcini
Porcini carry more flavour than most meats. In autumn, they need very little help.
Pasta con le Sarde
A Sicilian sauce that refuses to be categorised. Fresh sardines, wild fennel, raisins, pine nuts, saffron — the combination reads like an inventory of the Arab traders who shaped the island's food. The sweet and the savoury are not in tension here. That is the point.
La Genovese
A Neapolitan ragù built on time and onions. The beef is there, but the onions are the sauce — slow-cooked until they collapse entirely into something sweet, dark, and unlike anything else in Campania.
Salsa di Noci
Liguria's inland answer to pesto. Walnuts, stale bread soaked in milk, garlic, Parmigiano — served cold, in a mortar. The method is the same. The result is earthier, heavier, and suited to the hills rather than the coast.
Al Cinghiale
Wild boar from the Tuscan hills, cooked long in red wine. The result is a ragù of considerable weight — dark, gamey, and entirely of its landscape.
Al Tartufo Nero
The Umbrian answer to the question of what to do with the most valuable thing in your kitchen. Almost nothing else. The truffle is the dish, and everything around it is designed to get out of the way.
Con la 'Nduja
'Nduja from Spilinga melts directly into the pan. The fat runs orange, the chili is absolute, and the tomato is there to carry it — not to contain it.