Where Oregano Rules the Slice

Trapani, perched on Sicily’s western edge, carries the scent of the sea in its breeze and the whisper of history in its winding alleys. But wander far enough into its old town and another fragrance begins to rise - bold, herbal, unmistakable. This is the calling card of pizza rianata, the city’s thick, aromatic, oregano-driven speciality. And nowhere does it reach such iconic status as in two beloved institutions: Pizzeria Calvino and Pizzeria Aleci.

The very name “rianata” hints at its essence - richly seasoned, heavily scented, saturated with the wild oregano that thrives in these western Sicilian hills. More rustic than the sleek pies of Naples, more assertive than the delicate focaccias of Liguria, it is a pizza that doesn’t whisper its identity; it sings it.

Calvino: An Institution Wrapped in the Warmth of Tradition

My first encounter was with Pizzeria Calvino, a place whose reputation precedes it like a fanfare. Open the door and you’re met with a hum of local chatter, the clatter of tin pizza trays being whisked from table to oven and back again, and, most enchanting of all, the scent of oregano erupting in waves each time the oven yawns open.

A waiter placed before me a rianata as thick as a sailor’s rope coil, its surface dappled with tomatoes, anchovies, pecorino cheese, slivers of garlic, and a cloak of oregano so generous it seemed almost embroidered into the dough. The crust was golden and sturdy, imbued with that gentle chew only long fermentation can coax. As I bit into it, the flavours surged - salty, herbal, sweet, and bold, as if summarising the very spirit of Trapani on a single tray.

At Calvino, the rianata is not simply made; it is performed. Every ingredient feels rooted in place, and every slice carries the weight of decades of loyal patrons who return year after year for this aromatic masterpiece.

Aleci: The Family Table, Reimagined

A short stroll away, tucked into the quieter folds of Trapani’s residential streets, Pizzeria Aleci offers a different but equally compelling interpretation. If Calvino is the bustling landmark, Aleci is the neighbourhood confidant - warm, unpretentious, and fiercely dedicated to its craft.

Here the rianata arrives slightly softer, its edges gently crisp, the topping spread with the same signature oregano flourish but with a touch more tomato, lending a luscious, almost jammy richness. Aleci’s version feels like something a Trapanese nonna might have pulled from her home oven on a Sunday: comforting, nostalgic, deeply personal.

The anchovies glisten like tiny ribbons of the sea, bringing a briny brightness that cuts through the herbal intensity. As I ate, families shuffled in to collect trays the size of ship portholes, each one destined for a household gathering, a birthday, or simply an evening where good food is reason enough to celebrate.

Two Traditions, One Soul

What struck me most was how Calvino and Aleci, despite their differing personalities, express a shared devotion to Trapani’s culinary heritage. The rianata is more than a recipe here; it is culture, history, geography, and memory layered onto soft, thick dough.

Taste the oregano and you taste the inland hills. Taste the anchovies and you taste the Tyrrhenian. Taste the garlic and tomato and you taste the centuries of Mediterranean exchange that shaped this corner of Sicily. Each pizzeria guards its own interpretation, yet both honour the same story - one that Trapani has been telling, slice by fragrant slice, for generations.

A Slice Worth Travelling For

I left Trapani with grains of sea salt on my skin, the scent of oregano still clinging to my clothes, and the contented heaviness of too many slices enjoyed in too short a time. But as any traveller soon learns, the rianata is not simply eaten; it is experienced - a slow, aromatic encounter with the beating heart of western Sicily.

Whether you fall for Calvino’s assertive, storied tray or Aleci’s tender, soulful rendition, one truth remains: the rianata of Trapani is a pilgrimage dish, a genuine taste of place, and a reminder that sometimes the most compelling journeys begin with nothing more than a slice of pizza and a sense of curiosity.