Valentina wields the large wooden rolling pin and slides it vigorously over the poplar countertop, shaping the dough into a translucent disc the thickness of a sheet of paper. The preparation process is ancient and artisanal, and the quality test follows the same tradition: after a few minutes, Valentina takes the disc to the kitchen window to see if the sunlight can pass through it evenly.If it does, the dough is finally ready. If not, the wooden rolling pin goes back to work.
When the dish reaches the table at Ruvida, the customer may not be aware of the alchemy behind the tagliatelle al ragù and tortelloni burro e oro, which is a shame, because watching Valentina’s agile and firm hands dance with the dough while an Italian song plays on a speaker is as delightful as the final result itself.
“You have to dance with the dough, to use the weight of your body,” explains Valentina, moving the rolling pin back and forth.
The dance is just one of the many techniques this Italian from Bologna learned at La Vecchia Scuola Bolognese, the world’s only school dedicated to passing down the secrets of making authentic artisanal pasta, paying attention to the smallest details, such as the type of wood used for the rolling pin and countertop, which have different densities to achieve the ideal roughness.
The rougher texture may seem like a detail, but it’s not; on the contrary, it ensures enough porosity for the sauce to penetrate and settle, creating a clear distinction between artisanal and supermarket industrial products—crucial for the final flavor, which ultimately gave this peculiar Italian restaurant in Lisbon its name: Ruvida, or “rough” in Dante’s language.
These very details have led Ruvida to be ranked among the Top 101 Restaurants in Lisbon, organized by Immigrantfoodies in partnership with the Mensagem de Lisboa.
here the 101 TOP
And this is what makes Ruvida the only restaurant in Portugal where dishes are made using the centuries-old technique of handmade pasta prepared with the authentic Bolognese mattarello.
To represent authentic Italian cuisine
Valentina Franchi’s ballet with Lisbon began 11 years ago when she, a biologist and zoologist at the time, arrived in the Portuguese capital to work on a European project in her field. The plan was to stay for three months, but she didn’t expect to be seduced by the charms of Lisbon, and the return trip to Bologna was never used.
However, Valentina’s story mirrors that of other immigrants who decide to live in Lisbon: with no space to continue in her original field, she was forced to “start from scratch” in her professional life, working in the restaurant industry. Yet it was from this experience that she realized what would later lead her to open Ruvida.
“I’ve always cooked at home for family and friends, but when I started working in restaurants, I realized I liked the field. At that time, I went to Italian restaurants in Lisbon but was not impressed. On the contrary, the impression was that my food wasn’t well represented,” she recalls.
At the time, according to Valentina, restaurants in Lisbon fell into the same trap as many others worldwide, from Rome and Venice to Milan, offering “Italian food,” a gastronomic concept so broad it spans pizza, pasta, meat, and fish. Trying to cover so many aspects of Italian culture ends up not delivering on any of them.
So, a year and a half after arriving, Valentina returned to Bologna with the mission of learning a specific, labor-intensive, and crucial craft: making authentic handmade Bolognese pasta, with the intention of bringing it to Lisbon.
A mission that found an important ally when, months later, upon returning to Lisbon, Valentina was accompanied by renowned pasta maker Michel Fante, with whom she had tested her new skills in Bologna at Al Pappagallo, the restaurant led by Fante. He eventually passed the business to follow his new partner—and now companion—on the Lisbon adventure.
And so, with Valentina’s handmade pasta and Michel’s expertise, Ruvida opened its doors in 2018, on a corner right across from Praça da Armada in Alcântara. Thanks to a certain Mediterranean touch in the decor, it doesn’t fall short of the atmosphere of a true Italian trattoria.
The feeling of being in Italy is further reinforced when the dish is served.
A World of difference
Understanding the difference between good handmade pasta and industrial pasta is about paying attention to the physical-chemical details in the preparation process, which takes into account seemingly trivial elements like the presence of an invisible and intangible factor, but one that’s crucial for achieving excellent pasta: air.
“Industrial machines torture the dough to the point of compressing the air inside, removing the bubbles, which are so important for ensuring lightness in the taste,” she explains.
Made from flour, eggs, and water—and without the addition of salt or olive oil—the dough is handled by Valentina for about ten minutes before being massaged with the mattarello, as Italians call the wooden rolling pin. The Bolognese mattarello differs from others in two essential characteristics: its dimensions and the consistency of the wood.
At about one meter and twenty centimeters in length, the mattarello harks back to the tradition of centuries ago when Bolognese grandmothers used a broom handle to work the dough. The length also ensures the breadth of the person preparing the dough, opening their arms wide to create a disc that can reach one meter or more in diameter.
The consistency of the wood, both of the mattarello and the countertop, is also crucial.
“Unlike Portuguese pastry, for example, where doughs are rolled out on stone or metal, which are denser than wood, in Italian artisanal pasta, the base must be less dense than the mattarello,” Valentina explains.
At Ruvida, the mattarello is crafted in Bologna from ash wood, while the large rectangular countertop is made from poplar, cut without treatment so that the raw wood can better absorb the dough’s moisture, ensuring a unique consistency.
Such attention to physics and chemistry results in consistently fine pasta, capable of passing the demanding “photosensitivity” test, where sunlight coming through the window determines the perfect point. The result is a pasta that bears no resemblance to the rudimentary, irregular artisanal versions found elsewhere. On the contrary, it’s so perfect it seems machine-made.
“Before opening the restaurant, I worked in one where the owner would ask me to ‘rough it up’ so that the pasta would look more ‘authentically’ handmade,” Valentina confesses, noting that it’s the small details that ultimately create “a world of difference.”
A world that can be felt in the mouth in a refined menu that goes against the common belief that quantity and quality cannot coexist in harmony. The presentation of the dishes reflects the care and attention to detail in their preparation, combining dedication, effort, technique, and tradition, so that the experience of dining in Lisbon feels as complete as dining in Rome, Venice, Milan, or Bologna.
