The cuoppo napoletano is street food in its purest delivery system: a cone of paper, twisted at the point, filled straight from the fryer and eaten standing on the pavement. The word cuoppo names the cone itself, and what goes in it is whatever the friggitoria has hot at that moment, typically a mix of crocchè, frittatine, small arancini, zeppole, and panzarotti. It is not a sandwich in the sense of a filling between bread, and it is honest to say so. It earns a place in the catalogue because the cone does the structural job bread does elsewhere, and because in Naples the same fried pieces are routinely tucked into a soft roll or eaten alongside one, the fryer's output meeting bread at the same counter.
The craft is timing and oil, not assembly. Everything in the cone is fried to order and stacked while it is still spitting, because the entire appeal lives in the few minutes before the crust softens and the inside goes from molten to merely warm. A crocchè has to shatter and then give to a fluid potato centre; a frittatina has to hold its bound pasta long enough to be picked up by hand. The paper cone is chosen for exactly one reason: it wicks the surplus oil away from the food and the hand without being a plate, so the pieces stay crisp on the way up and nothing has to be put down. When a roll is involved it is a plain, soft, slightly sweet bread whose only job is to hold something hot and oily and just cooked.
The variations are the friggitoria itself rather than codified recipes, and the related street formats keep their own pages. The fried pieces packed into a soft Neapolitan roll, the sfincione and the arancina tucked into bread, the wider Palermo and southern fryer-and-offal tradition all sit alongside this. Each is a different vat or pot poured into paper or bread, and each deserves its own article rather than being crowded in here.