What does dining at Porticciolo mean today? The answer goes beyond the aquamarine hues of the sign: Gianfranco Pascucci demonstrates how the impact of the restaurant industry can encompass an entire (eco)system.
Photo credits: Lido Vannucchi; Slevin; Stefano Caffarri.
Cover: *Sea of Plastic* by Lido Vannucchi; Portrait of Slevin.
A Message in a Bottle
Fiumicino interior, daytime, 2019: the image is as powerful as a billboard in giant letters, yet it bears the mark of those silent stirrings that continue to shake one’s thoughts over time. On the plate lies a film that looks like plastic drifting among the waves, a residue as insignificant in terms of physics as it is burdensome for nature: Gianfranco Pascucci has just placed some transparent sheets of obulato over his squid ink pasta—a provocative touch destined to make the rounds of Italy, linking the alien concept of waste to the safe haven of marine sensations.
“Plastic” to eat? Well, yes. That’s where the sensory short-circuit lies—the visual shock that stirs the conscience before you plunge your fork into the pitch-black fusilli. Then comes the briny force that battles against a pile of intruding trash, an elegant slap in the face to the pollution that is devouring the ecosystem bite by bite. Seven years have now passed since its debut on the table, and Pascucci al Porticciolo’s signature dish has gradually embraced change while holding tight to its “message in a bottle.” Most recently, a seemingly humble addition has been made—pig’s ear, a rustic touch ready to warm the tones of the sauce splattered like a dripping.
“I love taking a recipe and watching it evolve. This one started out as a shriek, a sharp note of protest; a jagged lump that offered no respite between its harshness, savory notes, and bitter finish,” explains the chef, recalling the initial version. “You see, I wanted to expand that cry so it would become an echo. I wanted to give it the depth of a sound that lingers.” So, a second light bulb suddenly went off: "As I developed my research on squid vinegar, I realized it was very similar to a meat stock. Why not combine it with pig’s ear? Inside it lies exactly the collagen that the mollusk lacks. After all, the land yields to the sea what it needs and vice versa, in a relationship of continuous symbiosis." At its core, a free hug of opposing poles that attract one another. On the palate, six or seven seconds more of persistence compared to the opening, for a statement that runs no risk of fading.
Pascucci al Porticciolo today
Fiumicino, interior, daytime, 2026. The impression rises from the feet, demonstrating that the meal is part of a whole. Upon entering the restaurant, it almost feels as though you can hear the friction between your shoes and the shoreline: Gianfranco Pascucci and Vanessa Melis sought to recreate the sensation of walking on sand to bring guests closer to a stretch of coastline, aided by the porcelain stoneware floor that re-establishes contact with the ground. Then comes the visual connection: as the eye absorbs the underwater hues on the walls, the winking pupil of the sardine painted by the Tuscan artist Gabriele Leonardi reminds us that the sea observes man just as much as man observes the sea.
Vanessa is the ray of light you need upon entering the dining room, where a series of ice-breaking gestures precede the menu reading. She explains to newcomers that each centerpiece has its own name, ranging from blue anemones to Murano glass fish crafted by the Neapolitan artisans of Ricciocaprese. But that welcoming spark emerges in unexpected moments, whether it’s a recommendation for a hesitant couple or the suggestion of a “simple” spaghetti with clams for longtime regulars. Outside, the sun’s rays from the Darsena bounce off the moorings and onto the windows; they are the same rays that, three generations ago, bathed the sign of the chef’s grandparents—a former harbor trattoria that has become one of the best restaurants in Lazio.
What does dining at Porticciolo mean today? The answer takes us away for a moment from the aquamarine hues of gourmet cuisine, as the resonance of “Mare di plastica” extends far beyond the shoreline: suddenly, the focus of the lens on the plate shifts to a rustic landscape. We are in Isola Sacra, within the fertile grounds of the Azienda Adua (the chef’s small “botanical muse,” a 10-minute drive from the fine-dining restaurant). Pascucci covers the ground in a dozen strides, crossing the garden to pick the elderflowers that will end up on the menu’s poached cod two hours later. He plucks a leaf of Indian mustard, tastes it raw: “It has a unique flavor profile; it changes three or four times in a matter of seconds.” So yes—the full immersion in the depths spills over into the harvest. Basket in hand, we return to base with patchwork bunches of leaves and corollas, but not before stopping at the nearby Porto Necropolis; a site of 200 funerary buildings with perfectly preserved mosaics, which the chef often visits to bring attention to little-known pieces of history. The echo of the restaurant world, at times, reaches everywhere. And culture means this, too.
The Experience
“There it is again, the mustard leaf!” Cut to the next scene: at Porticciolo, we find it on an “experimental” off-menu bite—a sign that our trips out of town are still paying off. The spiciness of the vegetable placed on the Tartlet with glazed mussels and moray eel skin is a warm-up for the jaw at the start of the meal (though Pascucci is already thinking of turning the finger food into a first course...spoiler alert). Composing the 2026 welcome is a parade of “seabed” snacks.
There is the starfish that tastes like tuna sauce (but “cubed,” with its flavors brought to life by a caper for added punch and a potato crust on the outside); the Bianco di seppia with hints of Christmas nougat, where the mollusk’s delicate body embraces, in turn, orange, hazelnut, honeyed almond, and an invigorating cocoa bean; the Bon bon of sea foie gras, a pâté made entirely of bluefish and passion fruit; finally, a Royale, also from the sea, filled with miso cream, lupini beans, and Kaluga Amur caviar, to be thoroughly scooped out using a custom-designed spoon: “It scoops and cuts, two utensils in one,” remarks Vanessa.
The Oyster glides coolly over the warmth of the tongue, and is one of those thermal shocks that transport you to an unknown place. The oyster from northern France is halved to unite two worlds: at the bottom, a hint of contrast with wood sorrel and green Tabasco; on top, white chocolate granita to highlight the full-bodied essence of the shell. All-in-one, a viral diversity that results in total purity. The pairing by the excellent sommelier Domenico Accinni softens the impact, bringing in a 2019 Vigna La Miccia by Marco De Bartoli—a 100% Grillo Marsala that focuses squarely on cold vinification to extract delicate aromas from the grapes.
The technique fits like a glove with the raw purple shrimp, Ammano yogurt, fresh peas with basil, and blackberry sprouts. Three ecosystems in three spoonfuls, and a hint of creaminess that surprisingly leans toward the salty: in Fiumicino, even the dairies absorb the iodine in the air. From crustacean to rock predator, the dive goes deep: it’s the turn of the White Grouper in tataki style, which, with a pinch of sea salt, returns right on cue to its natural habitat. Halfway through, the coastal breeze of citrus fruits in the background and even a hint of “summer barbecue”: it’s the escarole grilled on the barbecue, which makes up the side dish along with almonds and Bernese mayonnaise.
Remember the sardine that was peering at us out of the corner of its eye? That lively, picture-perfect iris has become an appetizer: theEye of the Sea gives a voice to the silent inhabitants of the Mediterranean, pushing the boundaries of conventional ethics. “Art, at times, manages to show us what we don’t see. By choosing to portray a tiny fish just a few centimeters long, Gabriele Leonardi has zoomed in on the life of the oceans”, explains the chef. “So, by extension, I took that idea and applied it to the absolute use of the ingredient”. And so, on the plate, the whole squid splashes about: first, its tentacles seared on the grill and enlivened by a “herbal tail” of basil and fennel vinegar; next, the central body seasoned with oil and lemon and finely chopped with a knife; on top, the ink and skin treated with squid vinegar until they take on a gelatinous texture.
And what about the sardine? “I couldn’t leave it out: it inspired the recipe for a light bagna cauda that adds fluidity to the whole dish, enhancing its textural depth.” To cleanse the palate, a raw corn cob with rice cream, passion fruit, and cashews: the side dish that turns back the clock and leaves a lasting impression.
Waste is also banned in the Sea Extract, where the less commonly used collagenous parts—head, eyes, skin—provide structure to a fish soup thickened slowly over low heat. “We start at a low temperature, so as never to exceed 65 degrees,” the chef reveals. “As we strain it, we let the excess fat rise to the surface through cold clarification and ‘concentrate’ the fish extract. I wanted the collagen to create the final texture, whereas usually the pasta has to release a lot of gluten to create the emulsions.” Upstream, a meticulous labor of love to incorporate the right amount of green tomatoes and a few red ones: “Once again, the soil and the waves complement each other through an exchange of living substances.”
While the catch of the day has become a classic staple elsewhere, at Porticciolo it regains its luster among the main courses. Surprise: the scorpionfish changes its look, accompanied by mussels, shrimp, baby squid, and the baritone note of cardoncelli mushrooms, as well as a sauce with salicornia extract, smoked butter, saffron, and mostarda. The reduction of bones and skin completes the multicolored mandala, lingering just a bit on the spiciness of the curry.
The crispy dish of red mullet, strawberries, and rhubarb surprises with its tone-on-tone presentation, highlighting the fruit. In the breading, a powder of strawberries and raspberries quickly transports us to the pre-dessert: it is a herbal sorbet with Italian meringue “seared” on the BBQ and Maccarese almonds, which Domenico pairs with a drink made with Gastrofighetti Tonic, created specifically for the Porticciolo.
Meanwhile, Vanessa wraps up the savory course with a two-part gesture that speaks of care: first, she changes the napkin—enhanced by a blend of verbena, lemon balm, juniper, and five drops of gin sprayed directly onto the fabric; second, she changes the glass, a heartfelt “thank you” to the craftsmanship that endures. Before us lies Zafferano’s Bon Bon line, now discontinued but timeless in its beauty.
The comforting simplicity of the finale takes shape in an XL Maritozzo served at the table. Much like the yogurt in the raw shrimp dish, Ammano’s cream is both rich and sharp, paving the way for the lightly caramelized pine sprouts used as a garnish. A splash of balsamic vinegar skims the surface, and a sardine winks at the walls.
Contact
Pascucci al Porticciolo
Via Fiumara, 2 – 00054 Fiumicino (Rome)
Phone: +39 06 65029204
Mobile: 329 4603566
pascuccialporticciolo@gmail.com
