As a child, Saturday night pizza with my family was one of my favourite things in the world. I loved our local pizzeria’s laid back atmosphere–paper tablecloths, unfussy service, orders shouted across the room–and the fact I could order a full pie (always a margherita) all to myself. What I loved even more, though, were the starters–i fritti, a term that refers to a variety of little fried nibbles. My brother and I scoffed down supplì, Roman rice croquettes filled with the likes of mozzarella and tomato, then breaded and deep-fried until crispy. We inhaled potato crocchette, and fiori di zucca (zucchini blossoms), piping hot strings of melty mozzarella stretching out of our mouths. My mum would opt for olive ascolane–sausage-stuffed fried olives, which I would only start appreciating as a teenager–and filetti di baccala (cod).
To me, fritti were the real highlight of the meal: delicious, comforting, and infused with a tinge of guilty pleasure that our prepubescent greasy fingers were unbothered by. No matter where you are in Italy–although, as a Roman, I’ll claim supplì supremacy–fritti are the perfect snack, antipasti, or hangover cure.
I am not alone in feeling this way. Visit any rosticceria across the Eternal City, and, more often than not, two out of three people will be ordering a crocchetta or supplì alongside their pizza al taglio or roasted chicken, justifying the snack as something to “tide them over” till dinner. They’ll ask for the crunchy balls to be heated up, per favore, then eat them standing just outside, for the fried bites must be eaten as soon as possible.
“Fritti anchor us back to our roots,” says Fabrizio Piazzolla, one of the owners of Supplizio, a gourmet friggitoria in the heart of Rome that specialises in fried foods. “Food has become such a polished, Instagrammable affair. Fritti are the opposite. They’re not picture-perfect or complicated. They’re just good. I think that simplicity is what makes us love them so much.”
That, and the fact they pack so much gorgeousness under their beautifully crisp exterior. That homogenous brown outside gives way to something of a surprise, really, which is exactly how supplì got their name: legend has it that, in the 19th century, as Napoleon’s troops arrived in Rome, they used the French term “surprise” to describe the wonder of the product and the unexpected filling of stringy mozzarella inside. From surprise, it morphed into the Roman variation “suprisa”, then “supprisa”, “supprì”, and finally supplì.
There are fried foods across cultures, sure, but none are quite the Italian kind: cheese-heavy, crunchy, often meaty and carby all at the same time. No wonder we’re obsessed.
It’s not just Rome. Across Italy, fritti appear on the culinary repertoire in one form or another: gnocco fritto in Emilia Romagna and olive ascolane in Marche, coccoli in Tuscany, cuoppo and pizza fritta in Naples, and panzerotti in Puglia. But also seadas in Sardinia and arancini in Sicily–perhaps the most “famous” Italian fried item abroad, thanks to the huge wave of Sicilian immigrants to the States, Canada and South America during the 20th century.
Despite all their nuances, or perhaps because of them, fritti might be one of the most unifying foods we share.
The first to fry were actually the Egyptians, who used the technique for pastry dough. In our gastronomic canon, fritti date back to ancient Roman times, when our ancestors fried foods in cooked honey or in a mixture of garum, oil, and wines, only to then pour the cooking liquid over the final dish to make it soft and juicy again. Crunchiness–now synonymous with quality fried food–was not really part of the equation.
Both taste and method evolved over the centuries: frying as we (sort of) know it today started to take hold first in the Middle Ages and then during the Renaissance with the introduction of animal fats, a prerogative of the wealthiest classes.
Eventually, as lard and, later, cheap cooking oil entered regular households, fried foods began to be embraced by the rest of the population, turning it into a staple of peasant cooking everywhere; fried pizza, for instance, is said to have been “invented” at the end of WWII to satisfy the needs of Naples’ hungry citizens, many of whom could no longer afford even a classic margherita. Friggitorie (shops specialising in fried foods) became ubiquitous, as did having fritti as a snack. Across the country, pizzerie bestowed fritti with the role of antipasto, making children like me extra excited for pizza night. Fritti dominated Italy’s street food culture.
Their reputation lost a bit of lustre in recent years–blame diet culture and the fear of anything deep-fried–but for generations that were raised with them, the love never really left us. “People got a bit ‘scared’ of fritti,” Piazzolla says. “But ultimately, I think they remain the ultimate crowd pleasers.” He couldn’t be more right. Courgette flowers stuffed with anchovy and mozzarella then coated in flour, salted cod battered to perfection, rice and meat fried until golden and eaten as soon as you can touch them. I can’t think of anything more soothing, satisfying, and soulful than fritti.
Not that they’re all made equals, of course. Far from it. Finding a good place for fritti requires effort–I now wonder whether the adult me would still find the crocchette from my childhood’s pizzeria so enticing–and asking locals what is the best place for arancini or panzerotti can lead to lengthy debates on the subject. Despite their straightforwardness, fritti are an art difficult to master; there’s nothing more disappointing than soggy fritti. Which is why, when you do find a good spot, you better order one of everything.
