Food trends come and go, but this underrated pasta has never left my pantry.
One of the best parts of my job is that I’m constantly trying something new. One day it’s freezing Jell-O, the next it’s caramelizing onions in the microwave or figuring out what Amy Poehler puts in her chicken curry. I genuinely love it. It keeps me from falling into the same food routines week after week, and it has introduced me to plenty of methods and culinary combinations I probably never would have discovered otherwise.
That said, I do have a few nonnegotiable food rules. Milk should be whole (anything else is just water wearing a disguise), throwing away a Parmesan rind is unforgivable, homemade whipped cream is always worth the extra two minutes, and the best pasta shape is bucatini.
I’ve quietly evangelized bucatini for years. At my house, it’s become less of a recommendation and more of a personality trait. If a recipe calls for a long pasta, I’m almost certainly reaching for bucatini. Even if the recipe calls for linguini or spaghetti, I’m using bucatini. Fettuccine Alfredo? Yes, bucatini. I know it’s not traditional, and I apologize to exactly no one.
What is bucatini?
Bucatini is a traditional Italian pasta that’s essentially hollow spaghetti. Its name comes from the Italian word buco, meaning “hole,” which perfectly describes the narrow tunnel running through each strand.
That little hole gives the pasta more surface area—both inside and outside—that sauce can cling to. The result is a bite that’s more evenly coated than spaghetti, especially with lighter sauces that sometimes slide right off thinner pasta.
Bucatini is also slightly thicker than spaghetti, giving it a pleasantly chewy, substantial texture. It’s sturdy enough to stand up to rich sauces, but it doesn’t overwhelm delicate ones either. Even something as simple as browned butter with garlic and Parmesan feels more complex when it’s coating a forkful of bucatini.
How to Cook with Bucatini
One of the best things about bucatini is that you don’t have to build an elaborate sauce around it. In fact, I think it shines brightest when you keep things simple. It’s a traditional choice for Roman classics like all’amatriciana and cacio e pepe, but creamy sauces are where bucatini really separates itself. That tiny hollow center acts like a little sauce delivery system, so instead of silky Alfredo or vodka sauce coating only the outside of the noodle, they get tucked inside too. That doesn’t mean bucatini only belongs with rich sauces. It’s just as wonderful with a simple tomato sauce, garlic and olive oil, or a bright pesto.
Cook bucatini as you would other dried pasta, in a large pot of generously salted water. Since the strands are thicker than spaghetti, they usually take a minute or two longer to reach al dente, so check the package directions and start tasting near the end of the suggested cooking time.
Before draining, reserve a cup of the starchy pasta water, then transfer the bucatini directly into your sauce for the last couple of minutes of cooking. The pasta water helps create a glossy, silky sauce that clings to the noodles and seeps into the hollow center. It’s a technique that improves almost any pasta dish, but it’s especially rewarding with bucatini.
One of the reasons I love writing about food is that the smallest changes are often the most satisfying. Sometimes it’s a new technique. Sometimes it’s a better ingredient. And sometimes it’s simply reaching for a different pasta shape. Bucatini has been my favorite for as long as I can remember, and after all these years, I still haven’t found a reason to change my mind.
