Shape: Vermicelli — The Original Neapolitan Spaghetti

History & Origins

Before the word spaghetti even existed, Naples already had vermicelli — long, supple strands of pasta whose name comes from verme, meaning “worm.” The term first appears in the thirteenth century in the Liber de Coquina, one of the earliest cookbooks in the European canon, likely compiled at the Angevin court of Naples. The text describes vermicelli as a pasta that could be dried and stored, an innovation that transformed the way people ate.

This development was not accidental. Naples in the Middle Ages was a maritime capital, open to Arab, Byzantine and Norman influences. It was probably through Arab Sicily that the knowledge of drying semolina dough reached the mainland. The Arabs had long prepared dried noodles — itriyya — that could travel across deserts and seas. In Naples, this technique met the region’s golden durum wheat and the dry coastal winds of Campania Felix. Out of this fusion was born pasta secca, the dried pasta that would become Italy’s culinary gift to the world.

By the fifteenth century, vermicelli were already recognised as a Neapolitan specialty. Early travellers wrote of the vermicellari, artisans who made the strands by hand and hung them to dry in the open air. The city’s growing population, the humid sea breeze, and the abundance of durum wheat from Puglia created ideal conditions for a craft that was both humble and sophisticated. In Naples, pasta became not only nourishment but also identity.

During the seventeenth century, vermicelli gained even greater importance as poverty deepened in the city. Bread had become expensive, and pasta offered an affordable substitute. Neapolitans learned to eat it with their hands, seasoned only with oil, cheese and a little pepper. Travellers and chroniclers began calling the city’s inhabitants mangiamaccheroni — “macaroni eaters.” In paintings and prints, street children were shown raising steaming handfuls of vermicelli to their mouths, the first image of popular pasta culture in Europe.

Then came the tomato. Arriving from the Americas in the sixteenth century and long regarded as ornamental, it finally entered Neapolitan cooking in the late eighteenth century. When the sweet acidity of the tomato met the golden strands of vermicelli, a culinary revolution occurred. Vermicelli al pomodoro became the dish of Naples — simple, inexpensive, and vivid in colour. In that red sauce was the sun of Campania and the joy of the people who made it their daily meal.

Producers

The legacy of vermicelli is still alive in the pasta towns of Gragnano and Torre Annunziata, just south of Naples. These places owe their fame not to legend but to geography. Gragnano sits between the Lattari Mountains and the Gulf of Naples, where warm sea breezes and cool mountain air create a natural drying chamber. As early as the 1700s, entire streets were devoted to pasta-making. Long racks of vermicelli hung outside houses like curtains, absorbing the air’s salt and moisture.

By the nineteenth century, Gragnano had become known as the “City of Pasta.” Local families, many of whom still produce pasta today, built small workshops powered by water mills. They pressed the dough through bronze dies, giving the surface a rough, porous texture that clings to sauce — a characteristic still considered essential. When industrialisation came, the town embraced technology without abandoning tradition. Its producers codified drying times, temperatures, and thicknesses, ensuring that vermicelli di Gragnano would remain distinct.

Among the most respected names today are Afeltra, Faella, Gentile, and Garofalo, each with roots tracing back to the early nineteenth century. These producers continue to make vermicelli using slow, static drying and pure mountain water, a combination that yields the firm, elastic texture prized by Neapolitan cooks. Their work is protected by the Indicazione Geografica Protetta (IGP) label, which recognises the pasta’s unique connection to place.

Beyond the industrial greats, smaller artisans in the Sorrento Peninsula and Cilento region have revived even older forms — slightly thicker strands reminiscent of those seen in eighteenth-century engravings. These pastas are cut by hand and dried for days rather than hours. To taste them is to understand what pasta meant before modern standardisation: a food alive with the grain’s aroma, the air’s salinity, and the patience of its makers.

Usage

Technically speaking, vermicelli are thicker than spaghetti. Their larger diameter gives them a slower cook and a denser texture, qualities that define the rhythm of Neapolitan cuisine. The strands demand time: they require a sauce that can cling, not coat lightly. In Naples, this often means the simplest combinations — ripe tomatoes, garlic, basil, and olive oil — or the briny depth of seafood and anchovies.

The pairing of vermicelli with tomato became so iconic that it effectively replaced the earlier white versions with oil and cheese. When spaghetti appeared in the nineteenth century, it was initially marketed as a refined, more manageable variant of vermicelli, but in Naples the older name never disappeared. To this day, many locals will use the terms interchangeably, though the distinction remains: vermicelli are thicker, rounder, and, some would argue, more honest.

In Campanian cooking, the shape is used not only for al pomodoro and alle vongole, but also in robust dishes such as vermicelli alla puttanesca or with colatura di alici from Cetara. The strands’ rough surface, achieved by bronze extrusion, holds onto oily, rustic sauces better than the smoother, industrial spaghetti produced elsewhere. The result is a dish that feels intensely Neapolitan — generous, flavourful, and grounded in everyday life.

Outside Campania, vermicelli often disappears from menus, replaced by spaghetti or linguine. Yet among pasta makers and connoisseurs, it retains a special prestige. It is the ancestor of all long pastas, a reminder that modern shapes descend from centuries of local craftsmanship and environmental knowledge.

Fun Facts

• The word vermicelli appears in Italian literature as early as Boccaccio’s Decameron in the fourteenth century, making it one of the oldest pasta names still in use.
• In 1607, the Neapolitan guild of vermicellari established official regulations for pasta thickness and drying methods — effectively one of Europe’s first food standards.
• During the eighteenth century, vermicelli were so central to Neapolitan life that the phrase mangiare i vermicelli simply meant “to eat.” Restaurants and taverns rarely needed to specify the dish; it was assumed.
• The introduction of the fork into everyday Italian dining is directly linked to vermicelli. Before then, pasta was eaten with fingers or wooden sticks. The fork’s design evolved precisely to manage the slippery, tangled strands.
• The industrial success of vermicelli di Gragnano in the nineteenth century was aided by the nearby railway line connecting Naples to the port. From there, crates of dried pasta travelled to South America, establishing the global Italian table.
• The classic Neapolitan saying ’O viento ‘e mare fa ’a pasta buona — “the sea wind makes good pasta” — refers to the unique mix of salt air and volcanic heat that still defines Gragnano’s drying rooms.

Closing Note

To understand vermicelli is to understand Naples itself: a city of transformation, where poverty gave birth to creativity and simplicity became elegance. These long, pale strands are more than a food; they are a record of human adaptation — of how geography, climate and necessity combined to produce something eternal.

When Neapolitans speak of pasta, they do not mean a product; they mean a way of life. And at the root of that life, before spaghetti, before the world took notice, there was vermicelli — the first true voice of the Neapolitan table.