Chef, at what moment did you first comprehend that pasta could transcend the mere vessel of sustenance and become a veritable language of memory? Is there a particular shape, a gesture, or an olfactory remembrance from your childhood that still echoes in your culinary artistry today?

Pasta is, beyond shadow of doubt, among the primary flavors we come to know in infancy: a taste that accompanies us, a comfort we perpetually seek and choose throughout our earthly existence. It is precisely for this reason that it possesses the extraordinary power to serve as a most potent vessel of memory. A singular shape, an aroma wafting through the kitchen hearth, or a simple gesture is sufficient to instantly transport us back through time, conjuring the faces, moments, and ancestral traditions that shaped our growth.
When I contemplate my own childhood, the shape that most fiercely ignites this emotional chord is midolline. I still recall with absolute clarity the pure joy when my grandmother, in the final, sacred phase of the creaming mantecatura, would fold in a small wedge of processed cheese: a humble gesture, yet one destined to imprint itself forever upon my memories and, inevitably, upon my philosophy of cuisine today.

Your culinary repertoire is frequently described as concrete, legible, and deeply rooted in the terroir. What does it mean, in your view, to render a plate of pasta “legible” without succumbing to oversimplification?

To render a dish legible, to my mind, means ensuring that the identity of the flavors remains pristine and sharply defined. Those who sit at our table, here at Iris, must be capable of identifying and understanding precisely what they are savoring.
This, however, bears no relation to the mundane: legibility does not equate to simplicity—far from it. Often, to elevate a single note of flavor and conduct it to its sublime peak, one must employ highly complex, prolonged, and sophisticated processes of haute cuisine that are anything but ordinary. The true challenge lies precisely here: to conceal the intricate technical labor so as to present the guest with a pure, direct, pristine, and immediate emotion.

The Raccontami menu features the Cuscinetti of fresh pasta filled with cream, ham, and peas: an almost domestic, familial reference, seemingly humble. How does one elevate such a recognizable memory into a masterwork of haute cuisine?

It all begins with a most simple and genuine domestic memory: homemade pasta gathered from the pristine remnants of fresh sfoglia. To elevate it to the heights of gastronomy, we worked meticulously upon every single element, imparting a new form and guise to each, yet never altering their primordial essence.
The profound ambition of this creation was to breathe life into a dish of fresh pasta capable of powerfully evoking the culinary traditions and imagery of the nineteen-eighties. We sought to bestow upon it dynamism, movement, and a renewed contemporary aesthetic, whilst always operating with the utmost reverence for the dish’s original identity.

Pasta, perhaps more than any other ingredient, carries a inherent risk: that of devolving into mere nostalgia. How does one prevent memory from turning into caricature, guide it instead toward a contemporary expression?

Nostalgia risks becoming a limiting shackle when one merely indulges in a literal, academic reproduction of the past. To prevent this, our approach is to weave an entirely new narrative around that memory, employing it as a fountain of primordial inspiration.
Our highest calling is to honor the identity and flavors that belong to heritage and collective memory, whilst reinterpreting them through avant-garde techniques and unprecedented textures. In this manner, the memory does not remain frozen in time: it breathes, evolves, and continues to engage in a dialogue with the present, adopting a truly contemporary noble form.

In the Adriatico e dintorni journey, pasta meets the sea: warm Spaghettino with Gò, clams, and mint ceviche; Gragnano Anellini with a marine verjus sauce and queen scallops. What relationship do you seek to forge between shape, temperature, acidity, and marine salinity?

Integrating pasta within a menu dedicated entirely to the sea is woven into the very fabric of Italian gastronomic history and tradition. One need only think of such timeless pillars as spaghetti allo scoglio or the classic seafood pasta.
In crafting our creations, the selection of the pasta shape serves as the foundation upon which the entire architecture of taste is built. For the warm Spaghettino, we selected an exceptionally fine gauge precisely for its delicate texture, ideal for harmonizing with the temperature and allowing the palate to focus on the nuances of the other ingredients.
In the second instance, we required the exact opposite: a shape endowed with tenacity and structure, perfectly suited for the ‘risottatura’ technique. When working with absolute minimalist elements—in this case, a mere three ingredients—balance, texture, and perfect al dente cooking cease to be mere details and ascend to the status of fundamental pillars of the dish.

The Turanico Spaghetto with mantis shrimp, wild asparagus, and licorice seems constructed upon highly precise contrasts: sweetness, herbaceous notes, marine depth, and a bitter accent. How is the equilibrium of this dish conceived?

This creation draws deeply from lived experiences and the treasury of my professional journey. Its architecture rests upon a very sparse selection of ingredients, characterized by bold, distinct contrasts, which find harmony through an exquisitely smooth emulsification—a mantecatura achieved by binding the bisque with the rich fat of butter.
Consequently, this equilibrium does not emerge from a mere mathematical sum of ingredients, but from a dynamic where each element finds its logical and sensory purpose only in relation to the others. Within our culinary philosophy, this genre of balance is no mere detail: it is the guiding principle of the dish's creation.

You have labored in kitchens where terroir, sustainability, and the short supply chain were not mere slogans, but a rigorous creed. How deeply does that experience influence your current curation of flours, heritage grains, artisanal producers, and pasta shapes?

We have never believed in sustainability as a hollow slogan; we believe instead in the daily responsibility of our choices. It is evident that the wisdom garnered over the years directly shapes every decision within our kitchen today.
The pursuit of absolute quality in raw materials, traceability, and the soulful identity of the product is no passing trend. It is, conversely, the act of building a cuisine of profound meaning, continuity, and deep reverence for all that we touch. The ultimate objective is to give an ever-greater voice to our terroir, guided by coherence and utmost rigor.

In a restaurant such as Iris, nestled in the heart of splendid Verona yet with its soul gazing toward the sea, does pasta lean more toward the earth or the journey of the waves? Is it root, or is it departure?

Our philosophy refuses to sever these two worlds; our intent is, on the contrary, to place them in constant, poetic dialogue. We strive to fashion a harmonious continuity which, while anchored securely in deep-seated roots and a precise regional identity, grants us the liberty to evolve and voyage far beyond our borders.

Is there a particular shape of pasta that you feel closest to your culinary vision—whether due to its structure, its resistance when cooked, its ability to embrace a sauce, or its narrative power?

Without hesitation, the raviolo: a filled pasta that embodies both an extraordinary structural resilience during cooking and a magnificent concentration of flavor—two elements I hold as sacred pillars of our culinary art.
The raviolo also possesses a beautiful narrative grace: to the eye, it presents itself with clean, almost simple geometries, yet it guards a secret. It has the power to enchant the guest at the very brief instant of tasting, unleashing the full, concentrated intensity of its hidden filling.

Looking to the horizon, what is the destiny of pasta, and what would you demand of it still: greater essentiality, heightened technical mastery, deeper memory, or an entirely new expressive freedom?

To my mind, pasta is the defining pillar of Italian culinary identity, the very hearth around which, for generations, the sacred ritual of communal dining has flourished. For this reason, my grandest hope for the future is that its original sanctity and meaning are never diminished.
I long to see pasta executed flawlessly, according to ancestral canons, yet ever open to innovative and contemporary alliances. All too often today we witness interpretations far removed from what pasta represent ideologically; thus, I believe it vital to clearly distinguish meaningful innovation from provocation for its own sake.
Technique, however advanced, must never overshadow artisanal wisdom and the mastery born of tradition. We must never forget that pasta, in Italy, holds the unique genius of uniting vastly different regions and heritages into a single, magnificent universal tongue. This is my wish for the future: simply that this language continues to be listened to, shielded, and passed down with devotion.