AMBASSADOR non plus ultra of ITALIAN CUISINE

World-famous chef Gualtiero Marchesi, who customarily wears a charcoal-grey suit and black turtleneck, is a discreet gentleman from Milan . During his long, distinguished career he's held many important positions and received numerous honors; among them are: President of Italy's Euro-Toques (1986); Cavaliere della Repubblica (1986), L'Ambrogino d'Oro (1986), Chevalier dans l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres (1990), Commendatore (1991), Artusi Prize (1998), Longobardo d'Oro (1999) President of Euro-Toques International (2000), Paul Harris Prize (2000), and University Rector of ALMA - International Masters Program in Italian Cuisine (2003).

GM : Yes, I've been writing my autobiography for ages. It keeps getting longer and longer. I'm also writing a book of my latest recipes. Both should come out next year. I want to bring myself back into the limelight, to show I'm still around.

LG: Your publisher?

GM : I want my books published the way I want them, not the way the publisher wants them. If I find a compatible publisher, fine. If not, I'll publish them, like my Sapere di sapori ( Knowing about Flavors ), at my own expense.

LG : You've been described as timid, indefatigable, trustworthy, straightforward, the last millennium's master of Italian cuisine, presumptuous and autocratic, do you agree?

GM : Until a few years ago I was timid, an introvert, because I was always busy cooking. I was ashamed to venture out of the kitchen into the dining room. I'd been traumatized by my first such experiences at my parents' L'Albergo del Mercato ( “ The Hotel at the Marketplace ” ) in Via Bezzecca in Milan .

LG: So your character opened-up thanks to your ever-increasing success?

GM : Not really, but my cooking certainly evolved. In 1977, when I opened my restaurant in Via Bonvesin de la Riva, I was obsessed trying to develop an idea I 'd been ruminating: how to combine modernization, complicity, and simplicity in my cooking. I was poised, determined to lead another culinary revolution. I'd led my first when I was still working with my parents; even way back then I was already creating avant-garde dishes.

Jean Troigros, my mentor, predictably loved classic French cuisine. Slowly but surely I freed myself from this, let's call it, French influence, assimilating a bit of oriental. From both flowered the cooking style I call marchesiana : Japanese cuisine, Italian taste.

LG : So it's fair to say that you discovered your identity — the real Gualtiero Marchesi — through your recipes?

GM : Sort of, yes. They have Italian roots because I'm from Lombardy , but my cuisine has always been straightforward and modern. It soon moved from the serving dish to the diner's own plate. All cooks including me had to perfect this so-called “ plate-style.” They, we, weren't accustomed to it. Looking at this style's evolution from 1965 to 1968--when nouvelle cuisine was born — and then up to today, sometimes it gets over- exaggerated. These days there can be too many small “ tastes ” on one plate — too many complications, but then again that's how each of us chefs can express his or her personality, individuality.

LG: How would you define your dishes today?

GM : I 'm a minimalist. Consequently, my dishes are always precise, simple. I prepare traditional recipes and give them a refined, elegant, but innovative presentation. For example, my risotto alla milanese (rice Milanese-style) has become riso, oro, e zafferano , or saffron rice decorated with gold leaf. I add what musicians would call l'arrichimento , l'abbellimento , meaning enrichment and beautification. First and foremost, however, my risotto has to be good.

LG:Let's return to your self-portrait.

GM : I 'm not timid anymore, but I'm still an introvert. Social contact doesn 't come naturally to me. Some people consider me arrogant and presumptuous, but I never was. My so-called presumptuousness isn't presumptuousness; it 's awareness of what I know how to do, which is very little. Other people who, like me, know how to do very little, think they know how to do a lot. I'm constantly doing research, on the look-out. If you have that inner spirit, you're never satisfied. You never rest on your laurels. I'm hyperactive, always doing a million things. I need too.

LG: Are you a collector?

GM : Yes, of all sorts of objects, for their shapes. For the past twenty years or so — ever since cuisine switched from the serving platter to “ plate-style ”— I 've been struggling with shapes. It 's only been two or three years now that chefs have started using plates of various shapes. Up until then, plates were always round. Round plates forced us chefs to place our most important entree at the center with the vegetables and garnish “ around ” it, as the Italian word contorni implies, or, if not, to make a food-fan. Now with plates of different shapes there's no set rule for “ plating.” Different-shaped plates stimulate my imagination, my desire to concoct new recipes, Japanese or Chinese-style.

LG: Many chefs collect watches, fast cars and motorcycles; do you?

GM : No, I collect objects that I need and use in my restaurants: serving dishes, although this may seem contradictory to what I've just said. I also have a very charming collection of English egg-cups, two small presses for chateaubriand and several lazy-susans.

LG: Your hobbies?

GM : I'm adore classical music and going to concerts and art exhibitions. I have an art — painting and sculpture — collection. One of my daughters is an artist, a painter; the other is a harpist. The harpist's three children play the violin, cello, and piano. My wife, who is of Sicilian origin, is a retired piano soloist. Her mother, Pina Serra, was a famous soprano who sang with Mascagni. Even though my mother-in-law was barely five feet tall, she was one of the most glamorous Madame Butterflys ever. The husband of my harpist-daughter, my managing director, plays the violin. He studied at the Conservatory for eight years. My painter-daughter plays in an orchestra; luckily her husband owns a restaurant/hotel. So you see what kind of situation I've landed myself in?

LG: Your favorite composer?

GM : Bach, because of his never-ending search for the absolute, and his rigorous dynamics.

LG: Where do you go on vacation?

GM : I don't. I don't know how to relax, to unwind and get away from it all. I enjoy museum-hopping in Umbria and Tuscany .

LG: The influence of art on your dishes?

GM : Some are directly inspired by artists: my risotto with squid by Hsaio Chin's “ Cosmic Vortex 9 ” ; risotto Joan, ruby-colored because of its sugar-beet sauce, by Mir?, my favorite artist.

LG: Your favorite thing to eat?

GM : Mozzarella because of its absolute form and its freshness. I like to eat it with my fingers.

LG : At your re-opening of Rome's oldest restaurant, the Osteria dell'Orso, you caused a scandal by saying that, to appreciate the flavors in your dishes, your dinner guests should drink water and not wine. Are you a teetotaler?

MG : Heavens no. I like to drink wine. Wine's by no means second-place to food for me; they are two different things. However, there's wine to drink and wine to taste and savor. You can drink a light wine, maybe even a fizzy one. In Italy we ordinarily drink Lambrusco, Bardolino, Chianti del Governo, Bonardo dell'Oltrepò. You can drink a bottle of these wines with no after effects.

To evaluate a bottle of special wine, I drink only a glass, savoring every sip, and only on a special occasion. Unfortunately, often people choose a special bottle and drink it at any old meal.

LG: Your favorite wine?

GM : Right now — I've only just discovered it — Gragnano. It comes from near Naples , the same place as Italy 's best pasta. Just a tiny, tiny bit fizzy, it's tops, overwhelming, a knockout with a risotto.

If I'm thirsty, I drink water. If I want to drink wine, I don't sip it; I drink it. I forget about water and drink wine. It has to be a light wine, around 10/11 percent alcohol, a tiny bit fizzy. If I'm not in the mood for fizzy, I drink Chianti di Governo.

LG: Your favorite foods besides mozzarella?

GM : My penne with truffles and asparagus. Except for spinach, I don 't care for leafy vegetables or for red meats. I like white meats: fowl, game, chicken, rabbit, kidneys, sweetbreads, offal, olive oil from Liguria , sweet-and-sour, artichokes, asparagus, peas. I like most vegetables, especially mushrooms and truffles, both black and white ones, maybe because I'm Milanese.

LG: Your favorite flower?

GM : All flowers, but I never put them on dining room tables. When I had my ultra-modern restaurant in Milan , my table decorations were sculptures signed by famous contemporary artists: Scanavino, Pardi, Tilson, Chaissac, Pomodoro , Del Pezzo, my daughter Paola Marchesi, to name a few. In Erbusco, because 's it 's rural, I switched to little china bowls filled with cracked walnuts, grapes, baby tomatoes for my guests to nibble on between courses.

LG: Your favorite color?

GM: I'm much more interested in shapes. Over 25 years ago I began to serve water in tumblers. You drink water out of thirst; it needs to flow. It can't flow in a long-stemmed goblet which narrows at the mouth.

Tumblers come in different colors. Since water is colorless, let's give it one. Wine, not water, calls for a transparent glass.

LG: Are you a “ foodie ” ?

GM : Yes, but not a sweet-tooth. Mine is a never-ending struggle. To quote the composer Arnold Sh ö nberg: “ The heart should always be dominated by the brain. ” That's easier said than done. “ Foodies ” end up punishing themselves. I always try to control myself. That's why my recipes are a bit restrained. I don't overwhelm my clients; that's too easy. Maybe I'm making a mistake, paying the consequences. Perhaps I could have had an even greater success, but I'm content as is.

LG: If you had to define your style with one or two adjectives?

GM : Intellectual, thought-provoking. I care about people's health. My recipes, like Japanese cuisine, is purposely health-oriented. We Italians go overboard; this infuriates me. Why should I always have to “ follow my heart,” when I can rely on my intellect?

LG: So you don ' t dream of sweets?

GM : No, mozzarella.

LG: A food you don ' t like?

GM : Pizza. It's a excuse to eat something. There are so many other more intriguing foods.

LG: Any advice for restaurant critics?

GM : Make your judgements using constructive criticism not based on personal taste. If you say something wasn't good, you should explain why.

LG: You ' ve always loved food ?

GM : Yes, I owe this to my father's brother-in-law and business partner, Luigi Ghisoni, who'd previously been chef at the Ritz on Madeira, and to the Albergo del Mercato's chef, Domenico Bergamaschi, a cousin of my father. What a palate he had! Ghisoni and Bergamaschi knew how to bring out and enhance the taste of the simplest ingredient. They knew how to prepare historical recipes perfectly; that's the sign of a true professional. French chefs are way ahead of us Italians in this respect.

LG: When did you realize that you wanted to become a chef?

GM : At 17. When I told my mother I wanted to leave school, she sent me straight off to work at the Hotel Kulm in St. Moritz. When I came home star-struck by the ambience of luxury hotels, she packed me off to hotel school in Lucerne for three years. I learned fluent French and German. English still has me stymied.

LG: After Lucerne?

GM : I came back to “ work ” at my parents Albergo del Mercato , going to the theater and concerts eight nights a week. I met my wife then and started to take piano lessons from her, but we soon realized that I wasn't cut out for the concert hall. My thoughts were always full of recipes not scores. My parents took me back, but not as “ mamma's little boy.” At lunch I cooked for the market's vendors; at supper I could let myself go and started to build up my own clientele.

LG: The crux of the matter?

GM: The market moved away and I persuaded my father not to renew his lease on the Albergo del Mercato. I wanted to go abroad. I dropped everything and everybody, including my wife and small daughters, went to France for three days and stayed for almost a year. This trip was my university education: “ Ledoyen ” in Paris, “ Le Chapeau Rouge ” in Dijon, Troigros a Roanne.

When I came home, I built a small hotel with my parents. I became a hotelier and for ten years I didn't cook professionally until in 1977, as I told you earlier, I opened my own restaurant and took off. After six months I had my first Michelin star; two years later I had two. In ‘ 85 I was the first restaurant in Italy to earn three Michelin stars. Then I lost one; who knows why?

LG: What are the essential characteristics in a top chef?

GM: Two: Intelligence and passion.

LG: Why do you want to be the University Rector of ALMA, which as of January 2004 will offer the first International Masters in Italian cuisine?

GM: I want to help eliminate one of Italy's fundamental problems: no tradition of restaurant management or of the catering industry. We have family-run trattorie, but, unlike France, very little haute-cuisine , at the highest levels.

LG: Your definition of haute-cuisine?

GM : Essentiality.

LG: Your favorite country besides Italy?

GM: Japan. When I go there, I never want to leave. There's everything and more in Japanese markets. Oh, what an assortment of fresh ingredients, so many products to create from!

Good cuisine is totally market-based. My favorite part of being a chef is going to market to choose my raw ingredients. It's fundamental for a chef to do his own shopping. Otherwise he doesn't live his product.

LG: Why did you leave Milan for Erbusco?

GM : Figuratively-speaking, I was looking for a new spumante , a new sparkling wine, to pour, to offer in my way. In other words, I wanted to add new spark to my life. I've always done so and always will.

LG : How can you be in so many places at once, running Erbusco, the Osteria dell'Orso, the Jolly Hotel Lotti in Paris and the “ Clubs Atlantico and Medusa ” aboard the cruise ships Costa Atlantica and Mediterranea?

GM : I 'm almost always at Erbusco. In Rome two days a month, Paris idem, so that leaves 26 days for Erbusco.

LG: How is your style today different from at the start of your career?

GM : Not much. At age 25 I was already trying to give value to the products I used, but now more than ever. I no longer worry about “ plate design.” I aim for the absolute. For example, two lamb cutlets cooked to perfection are a masterpiece, showing respect and understanding of the ingredient. Spaghetti with pecorino and freshly-ground black pepper is also a great recipe because of its simplicity, but how do you explain this to people who live for appearance sake?

LG: You took off thanks to French cuisine; how are you different from French chefs?

GM : They all pull in their oars at age 35 to 40. Lucky them! In constant motion, at 73 I'm still looking for something new.

LG: As the ambassador non-plus-ultra of Italian cuisine do you think it still has room for improvement?

GM: Definitely. I don't want to be nastier than necessary, but in Italy a chef's professionalism isn't recognized. Unfortunately, instead of training our chefs to be professionals, we rely on amateurs. To whomever says to me, “ You know after twenty years as a amateur, I've become a professional,” I answer, “ After forty years as a professional, I've become an amateur.”

LG: So how can Italian cuisine improve?

GM: As Rector of ALMA I'll use all my energy and resources to guarantee that, like France, Italy can turn out many more great professional chefs, owners of their own world-famous restaurants. Hopefully ALMA's new graduates will make the rounds of all of Europe's three-star restaurants, not as interns, but as professionals at the beginning of their careers. That would be fantastic, ideal management training. Afterwards their individual styles will be the fruit of what they've assimilated from this international experience. As Bela Bartok liked to say, “ Improvisation presumes previous knowledge of the subject.”

LG: Would you still choose to become a chef?

GM: Since I 've come this far, yes, I think I' d do it over again, but my real passion is music. I would have liked to be a concert pianist.