ome is a city where food is more than just a meal—it’s a way of life. From bustling piazzas filled with the scent of fresh pasta to tiny back-alley trattorias serving recipes passed down for generations, every corner offers something special. But some places stand out more than others, and Trattoria del Sole is one of those hidden gems that doesn’t rely on touristy gimmicks or flashy signs. Instead, it lets the food do all the talking.
Tucked away on a quiet street near Trastevere, Trattoria del Sole looks unassuming from the outside. A small wooden sign hangs above the entrance, and a handful of outdoor tables are lined up along the cobblestone street. The warm glow of hanging lanterns and the distant hum of Italian conversation made the setting feel like something straight out of a classic Roman postcard. The moment I walked in, I was greeted with a friendly “Buonasera”, and within minutes, I was seated at a cozy corner table with a menu that felt more like a handwritten love letter to Italian cuisine.
I started my meal with their Bruschetta al Pomodoro, a simple dish that somehow managed to taste like the essence of summer. The tomatoes were incredibly fresh, bursting with flavor, and paired beautifully with the crisp, charred bread and a drizzle of the finest olive oil. It was proof that when ingredients are this good, you don’t need anything complicated.
For the main course, I had to go with their signature Cacio e Pepe, a dish that every Roman restaurant claims to master—but few actually do. The pasta arrived steaming hot, coated in the silkiest, creamiest cheese sauce I’ve ever tasted, with just the right kick of black pepper to balance the richness. Each bite was a reminder that true Italian cooking is all about technique and simplicity. The chef later told me their secret: instead of using pre-grated cheese, they grate Pecorino Romano fresh into the pasta, allowing it to melt seamlessly with the starchy pasta water to create that perfect, velvety sauce.
Wanting to fully indulge, I followed up with a Saltimbocca alla Romana, a dish of tender veal wrapped in prosciutto and sage, bathed in a buttery white wine sauce. It was delicate yet packed with flavor, the kind of dish that makes you close your eyes after the first bite. Every element was perfectly balanced—the saltiness of the prosciutto, the earthiness of the sage, and the richness of the sauce coming together in harmony.
For dessert, I couldn’t resist their Tiramisu, which arrived in a rustic ceramic dish, dusted generously with cocoa powder. The mascarpone was impossibly light, the espresso-soaked ladyfingers had just the right amount of bitterness, and the hint of liqueur tied everything together beautifully. Paired with a shot of strong espresso, it was the perfect way to end an unforgettable meal.