Drive north through Puglia’s endless plains and you’ll see the land begin to widen — open skies, long shadows, and the quiet hum of wind across fields of wheat.
This is the Tavoliere delle Puglie, a landscape that doesn’t hide its strength. It’s a place of farmers and millers, of honest ingredients and bold flavors.
And somewhere in the heart of it, between Foggia and the Adriatic coast, lives one of Puglia’s simplest and most powerful dishes: troccoli al pomodoro fiaschetto e ricotta forte.

There’s nothing shy about it. The sauce burns bright red; the ricotta bites back with a sharp, fermented heat; the pasta itself is thick, rough, and unapologetically rustic. It’s the taste of the North in a region that so often celebrates the South — a reminder that Puglia’s soul stretches far beyond olive groves and sea breeze.

A Dish from the Fields

In this northern stretch of Puglia, life has always revolved around grain. The Tavoliere is sometimes called “Italy’s granary,” its vast plains feeding generations with wheat, barley, and durum semolina. From this abundance came the art of pasta — not delicate or silky, but firm, full-bodied, made for sauces that cling.

The troccolo, the region’s signature noodle, was born of this abundance and crafted with a tool as old as the tradition itself: the troccolaturo, a wooden roller carved with fine grooves. When passed over a sheet of dough, it cuts and ridges the pasta in a single gesture, creating strands square and dense, with the satisfying weight of something meant to be chewed, not swallowed.

In the kitchens of Foggia and Vieste, troccoli were made with nothing more than semolina and water, sometimes enriched with an egg when a hen was generous. They were dried on linen in courtyards, cooked in salted water, and paired with sauces that spoke of the land — tomatoes, olives, or anchovies when luck allowed.

Among these sauces, one stands out for its fiery simplicity: pomodoro fiaschetto with ricotta forte.

The Tomato that Never Left the Sun

The Fiaschetto tomato is one of Puglia’s quiet miracles — small, bright, and full of sweetness. Cultivated along the coast near Ostuni and Torre Guaceto, it thrives in sandy soil brushed by the sea. Its name comes from the flask-shaped jars, fiaschetti, that once held its preserves through the winter.

For centuries, families grew these tomatoes in backyard gardens, picking them at the peak of summer and simmering them into thick, ruby-red sauces to store away. Their balance of acidity and sugar is perfect — no need for long reductions or embellishments. In this dish, the Fiaschetto doesn’t play background; it sings. Its freshness cuts through the weight of the pasta, its color glows against the pale gold of the troccoli, and its aroma fills the kitchen with the scent of August.

The Cheese that Divides and Unites

Then comes ricotta forte, the ingredient that gives the dish its identity. If you’ve never met it before, it’s less a cheese and more an experience. Made by fermenting ricotta over several weeks, sometimes months, it develops an intensity that can shock the unprepared — pungent, tangy, almost spicy, with a sharpness that prickles on the tongue.

Locals call it ricotta ‘scanta’, meaning “burning ricotta,” not because it’s hot but because it stings. In old kitchens, it was a way to make dairy last, to turn scarcity into flavor. A teaspoon stirred into hot pasta sauce transforms it completely — mellowing the tomato’s sweetness and adding a lingering warmth that stays long after the last bite.

It’s a taste of memory and invention, of necessity turned art. In Bari and Foggia, children grew up watching their grandparents scrape a little ricotta forte onto bread with tomato preserves, eating it as a treat that both thrilled and terrified their young palates.

Making the Dish

There’s a rhythm to this recipe, like the rhythm of the land itself.
It starts with a good handful of Fiaschetto tomatoes — fresh if summer allows, preserved if not. They’re cooked slowly in olive oil with garlic until they release their sweetness, thickening into a glossy red sauce.

The troccoli are cooked separately, their rough texture eager to grip whatever flavor comes their way. Once drained, they meet the tomato sauce in a wide pan, where the heat brings everything together — the sizzle of olive oil, the perfume of basil, the pulse of the stove.

And then, the final act: a small spoon of ricotta forte stirred in off the heat. It dissolves like cream, but leaves behind its unmistakable edge. The sauce changes color, deepening into something more complex — a shade between coral and rust, between comfort and fire.

Served warm, it’s a dish that needs nothing else. A drizzle of olive oil, maybe a few basil leaves, and the courage to let the ricotta speak.

The Flavor of Fire and Wheat

Every region of Italy has its way of defining strength. In Puglia’s north, it comes from endurance — the ability to face hard soil, long summers, and make something beautiful anyway. Troccoli al pomodoro fiaschetto e ricotta forte is exactly that kind of beauty.

It’s not a gentle meal. It’s assertive, almost defiant. The tomato’s brightness, the pasta’s firmness, the cheese’s tang — together they create a harmony that feels like sunlight turning into flavor.

Some say the ricotta’s heat mirrors the temperament of the people here: proud, direct, and passionate. Others say it’s a test — if you can love this cheese, you truly understand Puglia.

Either way, there’s something ceremonial about it: the rolling of the troccolo dough, the scent of the sauce, the sharp breath when the first bite hits the tongue. It’s food that wakes you up.

A Taste of Tradition Reclaimed

Like many regional foods, this dish almost disappeared for a while. Industrial pastas replaced handmade ones; ricotta forte became a curiosity rather than a staple. But over the past decade, a quiet revival has taken hold. Small producers near Foggia and Vieste are making troccoli again using bronze dies and local wheat, while artisans around Bari are reviving old recipes for ricotta forte using family methods.

Restaurants from Trani to Manfredonia proudly feature it again, not as nostalgia but as heritage — a way to honor the intensity of northern Puglia’s cuisine. It’s the opposite of delicate plating or fleeting trends; it’s a plate of conviction.

And like the black chickpeas of Salento or the orecchiette of Bari, troccoli al pomodoro fiaschetto e ricotta forte reminds us that the soul of Italian cooking isn’t in luxury, but in continuity.

The Philosophy of the Plate

There’s a saying in Foggia:
“Chi mangia forte, vive vero.”
(“Who eats strong, lives true.”)

The dish lives by that philosophy. It doesn’t whisper — it declares. It’s proof that strength can be found in simplicity, and that honest ingredients, treated with respect, carry more weight than any elaborate preparation.

To taste it is to taste a landscape — the grain fields, the salt air, the long summers that ripen tomatoes and test patience alike. It’s a reminder that good food is never about excess; it’s about equilibrium, courage, and memory.

Traditional Recipe: Troccoli al Pomodoro Fiaschetto e Ricotta Forte

Serves: 4
Preparation time: 15 minutes
Cooking time: 25 minutes

Ingredients
400g troccoli (fresh or dried, preferably bronze-cut)
500g Fiaschetto tomatoes or good-quality cherry tomatoes
2 cloves garlic, crushed
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil (Coratina or Peranzana)
100g ricotta forte (adjust to taste)
Salt and black pepper
A few fresh basil leaves

Method

1. Prepare the sauce. Heat the olive oil in a wide pan over medium heat. Add the garlic and let it turn golden, then remove it. Add the Fiaschetto tomatoes, halved or lightly crushed. Simmer for about 15 minutes until they collapse into a thick, glossy sauce. Season with salt and a little pepper.

2. Cook the pasta. In a large pot of salted boiling water, cook the troccoli until al dente. Reserve a ladle of the cooking water before draining.

3. Finish the sauce. Stir a spoonful or two of ricotta forte into the tomato sauce, off the heat. It will melt and turn the sauce creamy and aromatic. Add a little of the pasta water if it feels too thick.

4. Combine. Toss the drained pasta into the pan and let it absorb the sauce for a minute on low heat. Tear the basil leaves and stir them through.

5. Serve. Plate immediately with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and, if you dare, another tiny swirl of ricotta forte on top.

This is a dish best eaten hot and without hesitation — fiery, fragrant, and deeply satisfying.

Plant-Based Variation: Troccoli al Pomodoro Fiaschetto e “Ricotta Forte”

To recreate the same bold contrast without dairy, some Puglian chefs have developed a plant-based version that honors the spirit, not just the form, of the original.

Ingredients

• 400g troccoli
  
• 500g Fiaschetto or cherry tomatoes
  
• 2 cloves garlic
  
• 4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
• 2 tbsp cashew cream or soaked blended cashews
  
• 1 tsp miso paste
  
• 1 tsp nutritional yeast
  
• ½ tsp lemon juice
  
• Salt, black pepper, and fresh basil

Method
Cook the tomato sauce and pasta as above. In a small bowl, whisk together cashew cream, miso, nutritional yeast, and lemon juice — this creates a creamy, tangy “ricotta forte” with a fermented edge.
Remove the sauce from heat and stir in this mixture to create a velvety consistency. Combine with the troccoli, season, and serve.

The flavor is rounder, less aggressive, but still rich with warmth and depth — a contemporary echo of Puglia’s fiery classic.

Fun Facts

• The troccolaturo tool, used to cut troccoli, dates back to at least the 17th century and is still handmade by local woodworkers.
• Ricotta forte is sometimes aged in terracotta pots and stirred weekly for months, developing its fiery aroma naturally through fermentation.
• The Fiaschetto tomato nearly went extinct in the 1990s; it was saved by a handful of farmers in Carovigno and Torre Guaceto who preserved its seeds.
• Locals believe ricotta forte “warms the blood,” making it a winter staple served even on toasted bread with olive oil.
• Traditionalists insist that no cheese other than ricotta forte should touch this dish — to add parmesan is to miss the point entirely.

A Bowl of Courage

Troccoli al pomodoro fiaschetto e ricotta forte isn’t a dish that seeks approval. It’s one that stands its ground.
It speaks of Puglia’s northern heart — its wheat, its fire, its honesty.
Each forkful carries the spirit of a land that doesn’t soften its edges for anyone, where food isn’t decoration but declaration.

And as the last strand of pasta disappears, what lingers isn’t just flavor, but pride — the kind that comes from knowing where you come from, and never needing to disguise it.