The bustling Catania market in Sicily moves an astonishing volume of fish, produce, and meat, but for me the real spectacle is the people. These markets are unimaginably old; fishmongers have been selling in Catania since at least Roman times, if not earlier. The current location, tucked behind the fountain near the main square, is only about a century and a half old because the market has shifted around the city over its long history. In its present form—with fish being butchered in full view, boisterous vendors calling out, and the activity focused in a sunken pit—it carries forward a tradition woven through Sicilian history, feeling at once utterly contemporary and stubbornly traditional.
At first, I hesitated to descend into the pit, but I am glad I did. Beth ventured down as well and bought swordfish for our dinner. As you can see, women appear here only as customers, though they, too, often command the space with large, forceful personalities.
I noticed the place because it always seemed to be closed, metal-shutters drawn tight to the ground. Since it was nearby the apartment we were renting and I passed by it frequently, wondering what was this phantom pizzaria. A failed business? A front for some nefarious project? It was hard to tell.
One evening I was out in the neighborhood and to my surprise the shutters had just been pulled up and the pizzeria was open. Not only was it open but it was large, bright, and beginning to fill up. I went back to the apartment and alerted Beth, and together we returned just early enough to get in among the first sitting.
Ai Marmi is my dream pizzeria. Not self-conscious, delicious food, with an easy, social atmosphere. It should know what it’s doing, it’s been in business in the same place for over 90 years, serving thin crust Roman-style pizzas. It’s easily one of my favorite restaurants on earth.
History of Pizzeria Ai Marmi in Trastevere
Ai Marmi has been serving pizza since it opened its doors in 1931 as an ancient wood-fired oven bakery. The restaurant was originally known as “Panattoni Pizza,” named after its founding family. Since 1980, it has been operated by the Panattoni brothers – Paolo, Renzo, and Carlo – who inherited the business and continue to use pizza recipes handed down from their great-grandfather.
Distinctive Characteristics and Nicknames
The establishment is affectionately known by Romans through two distinctive nicknames:
“Ai Marmi” (The Marble Slabs) – This name derives from the restaurant’s signature marble-slab tables that have remained a constant feature since its opening. These thick marble surfaces serve both functional and aesthetic purposes in the pizza-making process.
“L’Obitorio” (The Morgue) – This more colorful nickname was coined by renowned Italian poet Pier Paolo Pasolini, who lived nearby and frequently dined at the its tables. The moniker refers to the cold marble tables that resemble those found in traditional morgues or classic old-style Neapolitan pizzerias.
Cultural Impact and Atmosphere
Throughout its nine decades of operation, Ai Marmi has maintained its authentic Roman character, creating a gastronomic and cultural experience that to me puts it at the pinnacle of the pizza world. The restaurant’s bustling, hectic atmosphere, where tourists are consistently outnumbered by local Romans, creates an authentically chaotic environment that’s part of the Marmi’s charm.
The pizzeria serves as a time capsule of Roman dining culture, with fluorescent lighting, no tablecloths, and communal marble tables where diners sit elbow-to-elbow. This unpretentious setting has remained largely unchanged since its founding, maintaining the authentic experience of a working-class Roman pizzeria.
Culinary Tradition
Ai Marmi specializes in traditional Roman-style pizza – characterized by its thin, crispy crust that’s rolled out with a traditional rolling pin and baked in their original wood-fired oven dating back to 1931. The restaurant continues to prepare pizza using time-honored techniques, with pizzaiolos working continuously to serve the constant stream of customers who nightly queue outside. Being there when Marmi opens, just when the shutters are rolled up, is an exciting experience and not at all like what’s happening at the more curated restaurants in Trastevere and Rome.
Beyond pizza, the establishment is known for traditional Roman appetizers including supplì (rice croquettes), fiori di zucca (fried zucchini flowers), and baccalà (fried cod), maintaining the full spectrum of authentic Roman street food culture.
This is pizza authenticity at its best – a restaurant serving the same style of super-thin, slightly burnt crispy Roman-style pizza that has been its signature for nearly a century. It’s no wonder that it’s a beloved institution for both locals and visitors seeking an authentic taste of Roman culinary history.
To me Sicily feels related to southern Italy but contrasted with Naples where we were before everyone seems quite relaxed and the pace of life less frenetic. At least on the eastern side of the island.
Yesterday in Syracuse we had rented a car and were just pulling out of the parking lot. The streets are tight so to get out of the parking space I needed to nose out into traffic and then back in again to get angled ok, but once I pulled into traffic I couldn’t get the Renault into reverse gear. So there I was, blocking traffic. I figured great, now I’m really going to get it! But no one seemed preturbed. Five or six cars backed up waiting patiently for me to get my act together. Beth went back into the rental agency to find someone to help. Meanwhile, an older man jumped into the passenger seat next to me and showed me the ring on the stick shift that needed to be pulled up to get the car in reverse. By then it had probably been 2-3 minutes (it felt like an eternity!) and finally someone got impatient and honked. My friendly helper looked startled, crossing his eyes in mock disgust, and interrupted our learning session to jump outside the car and yell at the guy honking.
OK, I thought, it’s not that different from Naples!
In affectionate remembrance of my older brother, David, who died on October 29. Among the traits we shared were a liking for the quirky and a passion for travel. He loved Italy, having lived there with his family in the mid-Seventies. My first trips to this to this part of Europe were visits to his home. I wish I could share these pictures with him too. I know he would have liked them.
Leaving Montreal I thought I’d be ready for Naples but once I’m here I’m not so sure! The ride in from the airport was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in a car! Moments of weightlessness as we careened off big rollers, followed by pure aggression at intersections. Once in the city my first impressions are of physical deterioration and vandalism. Trash overflows from bins and piles up against walls and in public squares. Graffiti covers nearly every surface, from shop security doors to church walls. It’s not artistic street art but overt vandalism with sprayed names and messages. Historic buildings are falling apart, gardens overflow with weeds, and even beautiful landmarks like Santa Chiara Church have exteriors covered in graffiti despite their stunning interiors.
Chaotic Street Life
The narrow alleyways in our neighborhood, create an atmosphere of controlled anarchy. Motorbikes and scooters race through what appear to be pedestrian-only streets, weaving through gaps that barely exist and following unwritten rules. The city operates on improvisation and quick thinking, appearing chaotic but running on deep, unspoken codes that I don’t understand either. Neighbors shout to each other from balconies festooned with colorful laundry, vendors yell from market stalls, and motorbikes zip past constantly.
Historical Decline and Marginalization
Naples’ fall from grace as once the largest and most prestigious city in Italy contributes to the irony of its situation. Centuries of economic struggles in southern Italy have forced Neapolitans to master the art of survival through an informal economy of street vendors, artisans, and small family businesses.
Unapologetic Authenticity
But through it all I can still see why we chose to visit this place. What makes Naples a mess is also what makes it authentic – the city refuses to sanitize itself for tourists or conform to homogenized urban standards. Life happens in the open, unfiltered and raw, with little concept of personal space. This “lived-in” quality creates an intense energy that I find magnetic – a real city where real people navigate daily hardships with remarkable resilience and spirit. I feel a bit wary but also excited to be here.
