Roman Rice-Stuffed Tomatoes Recipe (Pomodori al Riso)

Not just any tomatoes—beefy, juicy, summer-ripe ones that look like they’ve been sunbathing since May. And let’s stuff ‘em. With rice. But not just any rice. We’re going full Roman here. Pomodori al Riso? Yeah. That one. The kind your nonna might make if she lived in Trastevere and had a tiny kitchen that smelled like garlic and regret.

I’m Kelsey. I don’t have a nonna. Or a tiny Roman kitchen. But I do have an oven, a knife that’s seen things, and a serious thing for tomatoes that don’t taste like cardboard. So I made this. Twice. Once to get it right. Once to eat it all before my roommate noticed.

And now? I’m telling you how to do it too.

What Kind of Rice Should You Use?

Okay. Real talk: if you use instant rice, I will find you.

No. Not really. But also… please don’t. This isn’t the time.

You want risotto rice. Arborio. Carnaroli. The fancy stuff that gets creamy when you cook it but still holds its shape. It soaks up flavor like it’s been starving. Regular long-grain rice? Nah. It’ll stay hard. Or turn to mush. Or whisper mean things at you while you eat.

Arborio is fine. Carnaroli’s better. But if all you’ve got is Arborio from the back of your pantry that’s been there since 2021? Use it. Just don’t tell the Italians.

What You Need (And Why It Matters)

Let’s walk through this. Not just what you need, but why it’s in the party.

• Yukon Gold potatoes (peeled, 1-inch chunks) – These are your base. Your foundation. Your soft, buttery mattress for the tomatoes to sit on. They roast first, get crispy on the edges, tender in the middle. They’re not just filler. They’re supporting actors. And they deserve a raise.
• Extra-virgin olive oil (divided) – We’re using it in layers. First to roast the potatoes. Then to sweat the shallots. Then to drizzle on top at the end. It’s like the soundtrack to this whole meal. Always there. Always vibing.
• Fresh rosemary (broken into pieces) – Smells like a forest. Pokes flavor into the potatoes while they roast. You can take it out later. Or leave it. I leave it. Looks rustic. Or lazy. Depends who’s judging.
• Kosher salt & black pepper – Obvious? Maybe. But don’t skip the pepper. It wakes things up. And use kosher salt. It’s easier to control. And it doesn’t taste like the ocean tried to fight you.
• Beefsteak tomatoes (6 of ‘em) – Gotta be big. Gotta be heavy. If they feel light, they’re sad inside. Hollow. Like a breakup text. You want ones that squish slightly when you press them. Not mushy. Just… alive.
• Chicken or veggie stock (if needed) – Sometimes your tomatoes don’t give enough pulp. That’s fine. Life happens. Just top it up with stock. Veggie if you’re keeping it plant-based. Chicken if you’re feeling spicy (or not vegan).
• Shallot (minced) – Sweeter than onion. Less harsh. Melts into the rice like it was meant to be there. Don’t skip it. It’s the quiet genius of the dish.
• Garlic (one clove, minced) – Not a whole head. Not two. One. We’re not warding off vampires. We’re making dinner.
• Risotto rice (¾ cup) – Already talked about this. But again: don’t use jasmine. Please.
• Tomato paste (1 tbsp) – Deepens the flavor. Gives it that “I’ve been cooking all day” vibe, even if you started 20 minutes ago.
• Fish sauce (optional, 1–2 tsp) – Wait, what? In Italian food? Yeah. Hear me out. A little colatura (or regular fish sauce) adds umami. Makes the tomato taste more like tomato. Like it’s been concentrating its essence in a cave for 100 years. You can skip it. But try it once. Just once. Then decide.
• Fresh basil (chopped) – Bright. Herbal. Adds a little slap of freshness at the end. Like a cool breeze in July.

How to Make Roman Rice-Stuffed Tomatoes (Step by Step, No Fluff)

Step 1: Roast the Potatoes (And Chill)

Get your oven going. 375°F. Rack in the upper middle. Sounds specific? It is. Top third works if you don’t care.

Toss the potatoes with 2 tbsp olive oil, rosemary, salt, pepper. Spread ‘em in a baking dish. Roast 30 mins. Knife should slide in easy.

Then? Let ‘em cool. Keep the oven on. Don’t rush this. The potatoes need to rest. They’ve earned it.

Step 2: Hollow Out the Tomatoes (Gently, Now)

Cut the tops off. Just the stem end. About half an inch. Save the tops. They’re hats now.

Scoop out the insides with a spoon. Be careful. Don’t tear the walls. You want a little tomato boat. Not a leaky raft.

Season the inside with salt. Flip ‘em upside down on a rack over a tray. Let the extra juice drip out. Nobody likes a soggy bottom.

Step 3: Make the Pulp (Yes, Really)

Take that scooped-out tomato goop. Run it through a food mill if you’ve got one. Gets rid of seeds, keeps it smooth. No food mill? Blender or food processor. It’ll be a bit seedier. A bit airier. That’s fine. We’re not in a competition.

Measure it. You want about 2¼ cups. Short? Add stock. Not magic. Just math.

Step 4: Cook the Rice (Not All the Way)

Heat 1 tbsp oil in a pot. Medium heat. Add shallot. Cook till soft. Not brown. Don’t let it burn. That’s a mood killer.

Add garlic. Stir. One minute. Done.

Now the rice. Add it. Toast it for 2–3 mins. Let it get glossy. Translucent edges. Like little icy windows.

Stir in tomato paste. Cook a minute. Let it caramelize a tiny bit. Smell that? That’s good.

Now pour in the tomato pulp. Bring to a simmer. Cook 10 mins. Stir. Rice should be just starting to soften. Not done. We finish in the oven.

Take it off heat. Stir in fish sauce (if you’re brave). Add basil. Taste. Salt if needed.

Step 5: Stuff, Drizzle, Bake

Dry the tomato insides with paper towels. Moisture is the enemy of texture.

Nestle the tomatoes into the roasted potatoes. They’ll sit like little red helmets.

Fill ‘em with rice. Not to the brim. Leave a little space. They swell. Like jeans after Thanksgiving.

Put the tops back on. Drizzle with the last tbsp of olive oil.

Bake 25–30 mins. Tomatoes should be soft. Rice cooked through.

Now—broil. Take the tops off. Crank the oven to broil. 5–7 mins. Watch it. Like, actually watch it. You want golden. Maybe a little char. Not ash.

Take it out. Let it sit. 10 mins. Let the steam do its thing. Let the flavors chill out together.

Tips And Tricks (From My Mistakes)

• Don’t overfill the tomatoes. They expand. I learned this when one exploded. Not dramatic. But sad.
• Use a food mill if you can. Seedless pulp = better texture. Worth the extra dish.
• Let the dish rest before serving. Hot out the oven, it’s messy. Wait. It settles. Gets better.
• Make it ahead. Seriously. Cook it, cool it, leave it on the counter for a few hours. Tastes better. And you can do other stuff, like exist.
• Fish sauce isn’t weird. Try it. A little goes a long way. And it disappears into the flavor. You won’t taste “fish.” You’ll taste “wow.”

The Problem With Most Roman Rice-Stuffed Tomatoes Recipes

Okay. Real talk.

A lot of recipes treat this like a casserole. Like you’re feeding an army. They over-season. Over-stuff. Use canned tomatoes. Or skip the potato base. Or bake it forever.

And the rice? Mush. Or raw. Or both.

This version? It’s balanced. The potatoes add texture. The rice is just cooked. The tomatoes stay intact. The flavor is deep but not heavy.

And it’s not trying too hard.

It’s not “rustic elegance.” It’s just good food.

No fake cheese. No breadcrumbs. No weird substitutions.

Just tomatoes. Rice. Oil. Herbs. A little patience.

Baking and Serving (The Fun Part)

When it comes out? It’s golden. Smells like summer and garlic and olive oil dreams.

Let it cool. Ten minutes. Minimum.

Serve it warm. Or room temp. Both work. I like it cold the next day. Don’t judge me.

Pair it with a green salad. A glass of white wine. Or just eat it with your hands in the kitchen while no one’s looking.

It’s not fancy. But it’s yours.

And hey—next time you see a perfect tomato? Don’t just slice it. Honor it.

Stuff it. Roast it. Share it. Or don’t.

I’m Kelsey. I’ll be in the corner. Eating mine with a spoon.