Globalism tests Rome's tastebuds

It's a bleak time for immigrants in Italy. The government tightened conditions for asylum seekers this week and there has been a wave of xenophobic attacks. A Romanian gypsy accused of the murder of a housewife in a suburb of the capital a year ago – a crime which prompted Rome's mayor to threaten the mass deportation of foreigners – went on trial in the city.

But Nabil Hadji Hassen, a Tunisian immigrant to Rome, has a spring in his step as he walks into Ristorante Roscioli. Mr Hassen first came to Italy as a teenager looking for any sort of job. Today he is the proud possessor of one of the top cooking prizes in the country – awarded to him by the acclaimed restaurant guide Gambero Rosso for his mastery of spaghetti alla carbonara, a dish which is at the heart of the capital's strongly flavoured, deceptively simple cuisine.

The restaurant bible has named Hassen's carbonara as the best in the city. But the announcement has sparked the sort of row that broke out in Japan when Polynesians began heaving Japanese wrestlers out of the sumo ring, and in Europe when Far Eastern classical virtuosi began forcing the locals to look to their laurels. Is Italian food still Italian when cooked by a North African? Being (unlike, say, French cuisine) in essence a very simple art, doesn't it lose its authenticity when prepared by someone raised on kebabs and couscous?

Mr Hassen is only the cream of the crop. Most pizzerias in southern Italy are run by Egyptians. The master chef of the top Roman restaurant Arcangelo, whose carbonara came second to Mr Hassen's in Gambero Rosso's listing, is a Bangladeshi. When Sabatini's in the Trastevere district of Rome, took on ten cooks earlier in the year, seven were foreigners.

So when Loriana Bianchi, co-proprietor of another Roman restaurant, La Canonica, says "we need to teach the tradition to young Italians, not to foreigners, this is not a question of racism but of culture", history would not appear to be on her side.

Mr Hassen does not find such questions interesting. "I took it as a challenge," he says of his efforts to master the art of carbonara. "It was known as the most Roman of dishes. I paid close attention to the way the other cooks prepared it. The secret of doing it well is having a passion for it."

His carbonara consists of fat "spaghettone" from Abruzzo, cooked very al dente, crisp oblongs of guanciale (pig's cheek), freshly ground Indian pepper, fierce pecorino romano cheese (grated), and eggs from a legendary hen raiser in Pisa called Paolo Parisi. It costs 14 euros a dish, and is a meal in its own right. Though regarded as the epitome of hearty Roman dishes, its origins are hazy. One theory is that it was invented at the end of World War Two when American GIs poured into the city craving bacon and eggs.

Mr Hassen first arrived in Italy in 1981 aged 17. He got his first kitchen job on the island, washing up.

His prize for carbonara is the latest in a string of awards scooped up by at Ristorante Roscioli in central

Rome. It is not immediately obvious that the tiny trattoria is a restaurant at all. What is clear to the timid tourists hesitating at the entrance is that it is a temple to Italian food. Under high dark wooden beams are arrayed tomatoes stuffed with anchovies and capers, stuffed aubergines on wooden skewers, tall jars of artichokes, home made focaccia with Pachino cherry tomatoes, a selection of prize prosciutto arrayed on the counter at 190 euros per kilogram, handmade mozzarella di bufala, and a wall of wines.

Mr Hassen is philosophical about the plight of immigrants in today's Italy. "When I came there were very few of us, and people accepted us with a smile," he says. "Now there are too many, far too many, and some of them take drugs and commit crimes. So it's understandable that people become wary about foreigners. Though I have never encountered prejudice in any of the places that I have worked."

By Peter Popham in Rome