Il filetto di baccalà
An Icon of Roman Street Food
If there is one word capable of defining Roman cuisine, it is undoubtedly “contamination”, a reflection of an identity that has shaped not only the food of the Eternal City but its very history. For more than two thousand years, Rome has been a melting pot of cultures, peoples and traditions.
Far from fading over time, this defining characteristic has only grown stronger, allowing the city to absorb countless influences without ever losing its own soul.
Cuisine is perhaps the clearest expression of Rome’s extraordinary ability to absorb, blend, embrace and ultimately reinterpret different traditions, transforming them into something unmistakably Roman. Its culinary roots are broad and diverse, beginning with the Judeo-Roman tradition, from which it inherited many ingredients and frying techniques that gave rise to iconic dishes such as carciofi alla giudia (Jewish-style fried artichokes) and the famous filetto di baccalà (fried salt cod fillet).
Equally significant was the contribution of the transhumant shepherds from Abruzzo and the Sabina region, who introduced products such as Pecorino Romano cheese and guanciale (cured pork jowl), the essential ingredients of celebrated dishes including tonnarelli cacio e pepe and bucatini alla amatriciana. Nor should one overlook the influence of the Roman countryside, whose seasonal vegetables — chicory, puntarelle, broad beans and artichokes — come together in one of the city’s quintessential spring dishes: the vignarola.
Despite this rich and varied heritage, Roman cuisine has remained remarkably essential, both in the ingredients it relies upon and in the simplicity of its preparations. This is because, despite its many influences, it developed as the cuisine of the city’s working-class neighbourhoods, founded on three fundamental principles: resourcefulness, accessibility and simplicity.
It is from this popular culinary tradition that the filetto di baccalà emerged, becoming the quintessential Roman street food and one that every visitor should try at least once during their stay in Rome — ideally enjoyed piping hot in its traditional paper cone while strolling through the streets of the historic centre.
Its origins date back to the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when it became a quick, inexpensive meal sold in markets — such as the famous Campo de’ Fiori — and in the many fry shops scattered throughout the historic centre, particularly between the Jewish Ghetto, Largo Argentina and Piazza della Chiesa Nuova.
More than a century later, the recipe remains virtually unchanged. The ingredients and preparation are essentially the same as those used to make the traditional Roman filetto di baccalà today.
Desalted salt cod, flour, water and brewer’s yeast for the batter, oil for frying and just a pinch of salt. The result is a dish so delicious and inviting that it appeals equally to adults and children.
Its secret lies in the contrast between the crisp, golden batter and the moist, tender flesh of the cod that reveals itself with the very first bite.
Throughout Rome’s historic centre there are many places serving this delicacy, often alongside other classic Roman fried specialities such as zucchini flowers stuffed with mozzarella and anchovies or supplì.
However, for those wishing to taste the most authentic filetto di baccalà, there is no better choice than a traditional filetteria, a small shop dedicated exclusively to preparing takeaway salt cod fillets according to the original recipe.
The oldest filetteria in Rome is Dar Filettaro a Santa Barbara, located at 88 Largo de’ Librari in the Regola district. Opened at the beginning of the twentieth century, it takes its name from the nearby Church of Santa Barbara dei Librai. Just a short walk from Campo de’ Fiori, it is an unmissable stop if you happen to be exploring the neighbourhood during your stay. Here you will not only taste one of Rome’s most iconic street foods, but also experience a culinary tradition that has been passed down for more than a century. One bite at a time.
.







