A portrait
Mariella.
A Roman, a journalist,
a host by instinct.
Born in Rome. Trained in newsrooms. She has spent thirty years asking strangers questions for a living. Spaghetti on the Roof is what happened when she started cooking for them, too.
In her words
"I am not a chef. I am a Roman woman who believes that what happens between people across a long table at sunset is one of the last honest things we have left."
— Mariella, Trastevere
The walk to Mariella's door, Vicolo del Cinque.
Why open your own home to strangers?
Because I grew up in a house where the door was never closed. My mother fed everyone — the postman, the boy from the bar, the woman who fixed the radio. I'm just continuing that, with better wine.
What makes a Roman evening different?
Time. Romans understand that an evening is not a transaction. You sit down at eight and you stand up when you stand up. There's no second seating, no rush. The whole city moves at that rhythm in summer.
What do you want guests to leave with?
The feeling that they didn't visit Rome — they were in Rome, for one night, the way someone who lives here is in Rome. That, and the carbonara recipe.
And the journalism?
Every dinner is still an interview, in a way. I'm curious about everyone who sits down. I think people can feel that. It's why the table works.
Espresso
At the bar, standing, twice a day.
Walks
Through Trastevere, before the heat.
Reads
Calvino, Goliarda Sapienza, the day's papers.
Cooks
Carbonara, polpette, anything slow.
Listens
Lucio Battisti. Pino Daniele. Sometimes Nick Cave.
Believes
That a meal you cooked together becomes a memory together.
Come and meet her.
The best way to understand Mariella is to climb the stairs of her building on a Friday evening.
Reserve your evening →