The Golden Strings of Abruzzo

Where the Air Smells of Grain and Iron

If Abruzzo had a soundtrack, it would begin not with violins but with wires — the faint metallic hum of a chitarra slicing dough.
In kitchens from Teramo to Chieti, this sound still marks Sunday mornings. Sheets of egg pasta are laid over a wooden frame strung with fine metal strings, then rolled firmly with a pin until the dough falls through — square-edged, perfect, golden.

That’s Maccheroni alla Chitarra — not spaghetti, not tagliolini, but something entirely its own: a pasta born of mountain wheat, patient hands, and a carpenter’s imagination.

You can still find the ritual alive in family kitchens, in trattorie that smell of tomato and garlic, and in artisan workshops that treat each strand as a small act of heritage. The moment the dough hits the wires, the air changes — it’s Abruzzo’s anthem in motion.

Origins: When Carpentry Met Cuisine

The chitarra (literally “guitar”) is one of Italy’s most charming culinary inventions — part tool, part instrument. Its origin story is half myth, half engineering.

Historians trace it to Teramo province in the late 17th or early 18th century, when local carpenters began making wooden frames strung with taut metal wires to slice dough evenly. The idea likely evolved from lute-string cutting tools used by barbers and leather workers.

Before the chitarra, pasta in Abruzzo was cut with knives into uneven ribbons. The frame brought precision and rhythm — the pressure of the rolling pin made the dough sing faintly, hence its musical name.

Each area built its own model: in Chieti, the strings were closer together for thinner pasta; in Teramo, they were spaced wider for the heartier square strands that became the regional standard.

The tool symbolised progress without losing soul — a bridge between handcraft and innovation. By the 19th century, every Abruzzese bride was expected to bring a chitarra in her dowry.

The Anatomy of the Chitarra

At first glance, the chitarra looks simple: a pine or beechwood frame, about the size of a small cutting board, with steel wires stretched tightly across its surface. Some are double-sided — one side for thin spaghetti, the other for thicker maccheroni.

The wires are tightened using small screws or wedges; the spacing determines the thickness of the pasta. When the dough is rolled over it, the wires slice it cleanly while giving the surface a faint ridge — perfect for catching sauce.

Artisans still make them by hand in towns like Lanciano, Guardiagrele, and Teramo, where family-run carpentries date back generations. In these places, a chitarra isn’t a gadget; it’s a domestic heirloom.

Even the rolling pin used on top has a story — locals say it should be made from olive wood “because it sings better.”

How It’s Made

Traditional Maccheroni alla Chitarra are prepared with semola di grano duro, fresh eggs, and a pinch of salt. The ratio is about one egg per 100 grams of flour — the dough firm but pliable.

It’s kneaded by hand until smooth, rolled into thin sheets, and left to rest briefly before being cut on the chitarra. When pressed through the wires, the pasta falls below onto a catching tray, forming square strands about 2 mm thick.

What makes it special isn’t just shape — it’s texture. The slightly porous surface grips sauce better than any extruded spaghetti.
Boiled briefly, it holds its bite; tossed with ragù, it releases that unmistakable faint wheat aroma that belongs to Abruzzo alone.

In some villages, cooks use semola only (no eggs) for a more rustic version called maccheroni di campagna; others add a touch of olive oil for silkiness.

Identity on a Plate

In a land wedged between the Adriatic and the Apennines, Maccheroni alla Chitarra became a bridge between the two worlds — mountain patience and coastal exuberance.

It’s the star of Abruzzo’s Sunday table, especially in Teramo, where it’s paired with pallottine (tiny meatballs) in a slow tomato sauce. Further south in Chieti, it’s tossed with lamb ragù or seafood from the Trabocchi Coast.

At festivals, you’ll find it served al fresco under banners that read “Lu Pranzi de la Domeniche” — “The Sunday Lunch.” In every bowl, you taste family ritual and rural pride.

Even Abruzzo’s chefs carry it like a calling card. Niko Romito has served a deconstructed chitarra that dissolves into a reduction of wheat and tomato essence; Gianni Dezio in Notaresco makes his from ancient grains and mountain eggs the colour of marigolds.

Wherever it appears, it carries the same message: tradition isn’t nostalgia — it’s continuity.

Where It’s Still Made and Served

Artisans & Producers

• Rustichella d’Abruzzo (Pianella, PE): bronze-cut, slow-dried chitarra made from local semolina and spring water — exported worldwide but unmistakably regional.
• Zaccagni (Lanciano, CH): uses Abruzzese wheat and high-altitude drying for texture close to handmade.
• Fara San Martino pasta makers (De Cecco, Cocco, Delverde): industrial giants born from mountain springs where early chitarra-style pasta was first shaped by hand.
• Local carpentries in Teramo and Guardiagrele still build wooden chitarre for home cooks; some even offer workshops to learn the technique.

Restaurants & Trattorie

• Ristorante Romano, Pescara — classic Chitarra alla Teramana with pallottine, unchanged since 1957.
• Villa Maiella, Guardiagrele — refined lamb ragù chitarra under a dusting of pecorino.
• Antica Osteria dei Gemelli, Teramo — homemade chitarra rolled each morning by Signora Gemma, cut on a 70-year-old frame.
• Trattoria Taverna 58, Pescara — seafood version using local clams and saffron.

Even in London or New York, Abruzzese restaurants often mark their authenticity by one item on the menu: Maccheroni alla Chitarra.

Regional Variations

• Chitarra alla Teramana: classic version with tomato sauce and pallottine — delicate, balanced, and always eaten on Sundays.
• Chitarra ai Frutti di Mare: coastal style with clams, mussels, and a whisper of chili.
• Chitarra con Ragù d’Agnello: mountain favourite from the Chieti hinterland, thick and rustic.
• Chitarra bianca: minimalist — just olive oil, garlic, and pecorino; proof that even naked, the pasta can hold its own.

Fun Facts & Curiosities

• The chitarra’s musical name is literal — when freshly strung, it can be plucked like an instrument, producing a soft twang.
• Early chitarre were made with sheep-gut strings before steel wire became common.
• A superstition says if your dough breaks on the chitarra, a guest will arrive unexpectedly.
• The word “maccheroni” in Abruzzo simply means “pasta” — so “maccheroni alla chitarra” literally translates as “pasta made on the guitar.”
• UNESCO added Abruzzo’s transhumance routes to its Intangible Heritage list in 2019; Maccheroni alla Chitarra is often cited as one of the culinary symbols of that tradition.

Reflection

Every strand of Maccheroni alla Chitarra holds a contradiction — mechanical yet handmade, simple yet intricate, local yet universal. It’s the sound of domestic music, of women laughing and rolling dough while church bells ring outside.

When you eat it, you taste both iron and sunlight — the clang of wire, the yellow of yolk, the deep calm of Abruzzo.
It’s not just pasta cut by strings; it’s a region strung across history, still singing in its kitchen.