Before visiting the Barbagia, the Sardinian subregion where su filindeu is made, I had read about the pasta. Sources were pretty much in agreement that su filindeu, which translates to “threads of God,” is the rarest pasta on the planet, and is made by just three women. As much as I enjoy the easy access to travel journalism in our modern information age, it’s important to remember to fact-check your sources, because writers and editors don’t always do that essential step for the reader. As with many articles about Italian food culture, the statement was false and hyperbolic. Su filindeu is a regional specialty, for sure. It was born in northeastern Sardinia, where each May and October it is made by hand, dried, and broken into a lamb or mutton broth, which is then spiked with a tangy melted cheese. The dish is distributed to pilgrims for the feast of San Francesco. But the traditional dish is also reliably on the menu at restaurants—Il Rifugio in Nuoro serves it year-round—and even local bars and cafeterias. It’s taught by a handful of food educators like Gianfranca Dettori, my teacher, keen on keeping Sardinian traditions alive. It’s even found in Japan, where Claudia Casu, an ambassador of culture for her native island, teaches classes on making su filindeu and other intricate Sardinian pasta shapes at her Sardegna Cooking School. This once hyper-regional pasta is hardly on the verge of extinction. The shape itself is spectacular, and emblematic of Sardinia’s ritual devotion to food. When dried, the pasta looks like woven textile, and cooked, it feels like velvet on the palate. Su filindeu is beautiful. Help keep it alive wherever you are and make it at home.