Niko Romito: "In haute cuisine, we copied what others do abroad, but embellishments are no longer sustainable"

It seems dead... but it’s just fainted, was the title of Felice Farina’s cinematic debut a few decades ago. And so, the much-discussed fine dining, which some are rushing to give the last rites, instead of being on the verge of demise, seems more like it has lost consciousness—or rather, lost its sense—in a landscape where means are often confused with objectives, and tools with content. Then, someone like Niko Romito comes along to set things right, with his inclination for codifying, finding rules, measures, and values, in a journey where form and substance merge into a clear and profound aesthetic language that becomes both method and manifesto.

Haute cuisine has never been better

Italian cuisine has never been in better shape, including its haute cuisine —says Romito on the stage of Identità Golose—as long as we avoid formulas that are all spectacle and no gastronomic message. That message, he argues, must be the synthesis of two elements: territorial identity and personal identity. "We have finally learned to look back at tradition, not as a static but as a dynamic foundation," says the chef of Reale, pointing out a fundamental mistake: taking foreign traditions, methods, and customs as a model. "In fine dining, we copied what others do abroad," instead of leveraging our vast heritage, which is not a museum exhibit or a fossil, but the starting point for shaping the future. "I believe this is the beginning of a research-driven cuisine that looks to the past and tradition as both a foundation and an inspiration to invent the cuisine of the future."

A fully Italian haute cuisine that finds its spiritual father in Fulvio Pierangelini, for his ability to grasp and carry Italian taste forward without ever betraying it. "Respecting the essence of our cuisine means transforming, evolving, innovating, and finding an identity," he says, adding: "If I had time, I would create a classical cooking school to enrich my own gastronomic language and seek inspiration from classicism for the future, combining the techniques I have developed over the years as a self-taught chef with lessons from the past. Looking back and synthesising my transformation processes helps me move forward, seeking greater clarity in dishes." Eliminating the unnecessary.

"The embellishments in dishes are no longer sustainable," he says (and perhaps they never were), and he has proven it throughout a long and successful career in which he has never succumbed to the temptation to pander or be anything less than necessary in every move he makes as a thoughtful and ascetic cook. His is not an instinctive cuisine but a practice that feeds on continuous trials, studies, and calibrated attempts to strip away and refine, making mistakes—"one dish out of ten turns out right," he admits, embracing a philosophy of error that was frequently discussed at the congress—testing, removing, correcting, to leave only the essential on the plate, or rather, the essence, to use a term dear to Romito, just as the concept of the absolute is dear to him. A gastronomic concept, but also an ideological one.

Assoluto di cipolle

The rebirth of the ingredient

His perspective focuses on the intrinsic and profound value of the ingredient—which has always been his guiding light—though he has never had a reverential relationship with it. "I disagree with those who say that to respect an ingredient, you should work with it as little as possible. I destroy it, and if I can rediscover its essence in the mouth, I can say I have truly enhanced it." In this way, the product is reborn—or rather, born anew—through a maieutic approach. "I like reconstructing ingredients into a more elevated form," he explains. At times, it seems he wants to reorganise the gustatory elements that make up a dish, bringing out flavours that are usually hidden. Like the liquorice note in his famous 2013 dish of artichoke and rosemary.

Foglia di broccolo e anice Reale | Casadonna Niko Romito Photo Andrea Straccini

"My work is about sanding down and uncovering hidden aspects within the ingredient," he says, as when—while working with leaves—he reveals the untapped potential of an ordinary, seemingly negligible ingredient, enriching it through transformation that does not leave it unchanged but rather highlights new aspects. For Romito, "having the best ingredient, pairing it in an unusual way, disguising it, or altering its nature" is not enough; he pulverises, destroys, and then reconstructs the ingredient so that it is rediscovered on the palate in a different form. "I have thus highlighted and brought to light the soul of the ingredient." In this way, he extracts an essence that "encompasses two concepts I hold dear: beauty and truth. Essence is something that remains stable even in movement; it is an absolute that defines an ingredient in its various expressions."

His model is based on a codification that allows for both sprinter-like bursts and marathoner-like endurance. "When I create a dish, I seek its potential for the future." The work becomes a technique that can be applied to other dishes, other cuisines, and other restaurant models. "I used to think about dishes in terms of action; now I think about them in terms of potential," he explains, in an almost Aristotelian way. In his cuisine of truth, he starts from the code and the Italian taste, laying bare an ingredient and following a single principle: "A dish is either done well or done badly." No excuses.