Francesco Cerea did not choose the kitchen. In a household where pots, doughs, and service marked the rhythm of each day, he soon recognized his calling in the other realm of the restaurant: the dining room, the wine, the communion with the guest. Yet, pasta weaves through his most vivid memories: the spaghetti eaten as a child, the taglierini mastered under the watchful eye of his father Vittorio, those domestic trials whence, over the years, some of the house’s signature creations would be born.

Da Vittorio was born in Bergamo in 1966, from the intuitive vision of Vittorio and Bruna Cerea, who, in a province still deeply bound to the land, chose to anchor their destiny to the sea. The first Michelin star arrived in 1978, the second in 1996. In the year 2000, the restaurant moved to Cantalupa, in Brusaporto, and in 2010 achieved the coveted third star.

Today, that legacy endures through the Cerea family and the diversas endeavors flourishing around Da Vittorio. Francesco reigns as general manager of external catering, events, and consultations; he orchestrates and oversees off-site affairs and curates the family cellar.

It is from this vantage point — within the family, yet apart from the stoves — that Francesco Cerea shares with Milleunapasta the sacred place pasta occupies in the identity of Da Vittorio. Not only the iconic Paccheri alla Vittorio, but the rigorous precision required to offer pasta to hundreds of souls, the artistry of creaming it before the guest, the selection of semolina and die-extrusion, the dialogue with wine, and that unerring Italian measure that allows a dish to be recognizable without ever succumbing to predictability.

Pasta accompanies every epoch of domestic Italian memory. Looking back at your childhood, what image, aroma, or gesture binds your home to a plate of pasta? And how much of this ancestral memory still breathes in the identity of Da Vittorio today?
Pasta represents one of the grand treasures in the culinary offering of Da Vittorio, intimately bound to that world of yesteryear which, for us, remains profoundly present.
As children, we were devout consumers of pasta, above all spaghetti. Pasta has belonged to us since infancy. Our father, Vittorio, also initiated us early into the secrets of fresh egg pasta: I remember, as a child, learning to cut taglierini with precise, almost perfect strokes.
I, truth be told, spent little time at the stoves: I fell in love very early on with the dining room, the wine, the art of the sommelier. Yet pasta has always been a central pillar in our family. We were, and have remained, deeply devoted to the great dish of pasta.
From the countless trials our father Vittorio conducted, the Paccheri alla Vittorio were born, now one of the legendary icons of our house. They blossomed from that very place: a pure love for pasta.
Naturally, over the years, the recipe has opened up and evolved. But from our youth, we were bound to a holistic culinary universe: egg pasta for lasagne, tortellini, and agnolotti del plin. Pasta has always drawn our domestic geography.

The Paccheri alla Vittorio have become an iconic dish, almost a manifesto of absolute simplicity and technical rigor. What are the non-negotiable thresholds of the recipe — the ripening of the tomatoes, the density of the sauce, the final sheen, the cooking curve of the pasta shape?
Undoubtedly, the selection of the tomatoes is paramount. Over time, we have curated different varieties to ensure consistency throughout the seasons, marrying tomatoes harvested from the sun-drenched regions of Italy: Sicily, Puglia, and Campania.
Equally decisive is the choice of the pasta itself: we source the Paccheri from Mancini Pastificio Agricolo, crafted from semolina obtained exclusively from durum wheat grown by the estate in its own fields in the Marche.
And then there is the Parmigiano Reggiano: we select only that produced from the milk of the Vacche Rosse Reggiane, aged for 16 months, from the Caseificio Gennari of Collecchio, in the province of Parma.
Finally, the mantecatura. What might appear as a theatrical gesture is, in truth, the secret to achieving a sublime creaminess: the Parmigiano Reggiano melts delicately into the tomato sauce, which must not be excessively hot.

As director of external catering and events for Da Vittorio, what protocol allows you to serve a pasta that is still vibrant, neither tired nor limp, even before hundreds of guests? Where lies the point of balance between preparation, mise en place, and express final plating?
It is entirely a matter of temporality.
One must be flawlessly versed in the boil, the process, the preparation before the guests, and the choreography of service. It is a matter of precision, tailored to the specific destiny of each event.
It is akin to when a patron requests: “I desire a suit tailored thus, and thus.” You must drape it upon them exactly as they dream. With pasta, the same holds true: it is a delicate art, for a mere moment can compromise the perfect al dente. Thus, the true secret lies in absolute timing.

The ritual of tableside service — the pan, the mantecatura, the visible gesture — how much does it elevate the final perception of the pasta compared to simple kitchen execution?
It has an immense impact, for the entire execution follows a sacred liturgy: from the preparation of the tomatoes to the moment they are puréed, from the gathering of the ingredients to the physical process itself, culminating in the service in our famous shallow bowl.
For Paccheri we offer a spoon: it allows one to cut them with grace, but above all, to enjoy them effortlessly alongside their sauce, gathering every element that composes the harmony of the dish.
For us, this ritual is now second nature, practiced over decades. It is like an intimate daily gesture: washing one’s face, shaving, putting on fragrance, dressing, and crossing the threshold of the home. It is fully integrated into our being.
The mantecatura, however, remains a sacred rite. That manner of creaming the pasta is like embracing a dish: first you study it, then you caress it. I love to perceive it so.
Much like a beautiful evening at the restaurant: the fare may be exquisite, but the atmosphere must align so that everything becomes truly complete.

When selecting a pasta shape, what parameters truly hold weight? The quality of the semolina, protein content, granulometry, surface roughness, the capacity to hold the sauce, or resistance to cooking?
As I mentioned, in selecting our pastas, the premier criterion is always the quality of the semolina chosen by the producer.
We also evaluate with great gravity its resistance to cooking: during an event, we cannot afford for the pasta to lose its correct structure from the moment the mantecatura begins to the serving of the final guest.
The extrusion process is equally vital. Bronze dies render the surface more porous and textured, thus allowing it to cradle a greater abundance of sauce. For our styling of cuisine, this is a virtue we cherish deeply.

In which instances do you favor a classic boil, and when do you opt for a risottata cooking method? And regarding the salinity of the water, do you adhere to a fixed ratio in grams per liter, or do you modulate it according to the shape, sauce, and season?
When preparing pasta asciutta, such as our Paccheri alla Vittorio, we always favor the classic boil. For pasta stews, perhaps with shellfish, we instead choose the risottata method, as it permits the pasta shape to absorb and concentrate the very essence of the sauce.
For salting, we use iodized salt. We do not restrict ourselves to a rigid ratio of grams per liter: our chefs prefer to salt, taste, and refine the salinity gradually, sometimes tailoring it to the nature of the event and the service ahead.

Bergamasque casoncelli are an emotional heritage even before they are a culinary one. If you were to describe them to someone who has never tasted them, where would you begin: with the gesture of the hands that seal them, the aroma of the filling, or the golden rain of butter and sage that crowns the dish?
Casoncelli are a dish of pure indulgence. They do not necessarily strive for the cold perfection of a plate where all elements exist in absolute, calculated harmony. They are, above all, a clever, decadent, and joyous creation. And they are beloved precisely for this authentic charm.

In the contemporary dialogue surrounding haute cuisine pasta—poised between minimalism and opulent ingredients—where lies the boundary between enrichment and distortion? When does an element like truffle, caviar, or shellfish become truly necessary, and when does it risk overpowering the whole?
To my mind, there exists no rigid border separating noble dishes from humble ones.
Success lies entirely in a well-defined taste, appropriate to the dish. What matters is that the raw ingredient, even when simple or modest, delivers excellence to the palate.
A superbly crafted pizza can sometimes sing more beautifully than a dish adorned with truffles.

As the architect of the wine list at Da Vittorio, what guiding stars direct your pairings with pasta courses? How do you manage the acidity of tomato, buttery sauces, iodized nuances, or filled pastas?
There are diverse landscapes to navigate, particularly tied to the seasons.
First courses can be fresh, succulent, rich, or intense. When pairing wine with pasta, everything depends upon the sauce that accompanies the dish: whether it be a lasagna, an iconic presentation like our Paccheri alla Vittorio, or a great risotto alla milanese, to remain within the beauty of simplicity.
Usually, for wines paired with pasta sauces, a criterion comes into play that we sommeliers define as historic — that is, tied to the land where the dish was born.
Yet, naturally, this horizon can be expanded. One can ascend to a grander vintage depending on the occasion. A gala evening may demand more majestic wines; a family gathering, conversely, may find its harmony by staying close to the region of the dish's origin.
It is a matter of elegance, but also of intuition: one must be capable of feeling the soul of the guest, the gathering, and the fleeting moment.

Looking to the future, what destiny do you envision for Italian pasta within the grand theater of international hospitality?
Pasta will shine with ever greater warmth, for it is born of our heritage, and the world receives it as a sovereign dish.
We must, however, be vigilant not to dilute its dignity. Pasta must be honored, not transformed into something that abdicates its true identity.
Today, there are noble estates producing pasta that navigate the global stage with great wisdom, elevating this raw material to new heights. From this dedication emerges the elegance of the plate, the harmony of pairings, and above all, the Italian spirit.
For pasta is woven into the fabric of our glorious heritage.

Editorial Note.

There remains, to close this conversation, the image of a man who speaks of tablecloths and crystal stems with the same passionate devotion others reserve for magnificent cathedrals. Francesco Cerea does not claim dominion over the kitchen—he leaves it, with brotherly affection, to Enrico and Roberto—but he guards the other half of the liturgy: that which unfolds between the shallow bowl and the spoon, between the perfect vintage and the precise moment of its pouring. It is there, in that delicate space between technique and hospitality, that the pasta of Da Vittorio ceases to be merely sustenance and becomes, as he himself proclaims, heritage.