It's Not About Showing Off

I could’ve made snow crab ravioli. Silky sheets, delicate filling, some saffron butter situation and cover it with bottarga so everyone claps..

But I made pici.

Pici is semolina and water. That’s it. It’s rustic af. No tools. Just your hands and enough patience. The dough tells you when it’s ready to stretch, if you pay attention. You roll it until your palms remember the motion.

You’re not there to impress.

The more I cook, the more I lean toward that.

I did a collab with a local farm. I asked for a case of tomatoes straight off the vine, fresh basil, olive oil, some garlic, peperoncini and a burrata to turn into stracciatella.

Seven ingredients if we count salt, and we do.
Sure I could’ve made something complicated, but for what?

When I started running specials at Mano Cornuto, I remember plating a pasta and reaching for microgreens.

What’s the green for? chef asked.

Colour. I said.

He looked at me like I just exposed myself.

What are you trying to hide?

That line stuck. Because that’s what garnish is sometimes. Insurance. Insecurity. Even extra cheese can become a safety blanket. Something on top so you don’t have to send a plate out naked and feel vulnerable. No garnish. No distraction. Just the dish.

Does it taste good?

It tastes great!

Then it doesn’t need anything.

Now I send out plates that look almost too basic.
Nothing on top for applause.
And I own that shit.

People think mastery is doing more. It’s not. It’s knowing what to do and what to leave out. Just because you can make snow crab ravioli doesn’t mean you need to. Just because something is more difficult doesn’t mean it’s better.

Good ingredients don't need much from you. You respect them. You don’t intervene just to make yourself feel important. You let them speak for themselves.

Ok, later
Em

BEHIND THE PASTA

• Nonna making pici pasta by hand

• What Salt Fat Acid Heat gets right