"With U.S. tariffs, buffalo mozzarella will cost almost double. We're ruined." The outburst of an Italian chef in Miami

Three months ago, Marco Giugliano opened his restaurant in Miami: Mano Libera. A venue that celebrates Italy, its traditions, and its raw materials with a contemporary flair and a bold style, thanks also to the constant arrival of local products: buffalo mozzarella, for example, is delivered from Battipaglia twice a week. And like the mozzarella, there are also tomatoes, Parmigiano, and the wines displayed in the large open cellar that wraps around the restaurant.

A few days ago, he confided in us his hope that Giorgia Meloni would be able to intervene to prevent the tariffs; today, we record his reactions following Trump's announcement. An announcement that has alarmed the sector, also due to the threat of Italian sounding products.

In the end, these tariffs will come into effect
To tell the truth, until the last moment, I thought Meloni would manage to block the tariffs, but no. I don't get involved in politics, but I can say that I think it's a huge blow. By doing this, Trump is destroying Italy; we will only get worse.

What will you do?
To be honest: I don't know. I think that wine sales will not be the same. If an Aglianico that we paid 10 now costs 30, who will buy it? I can't price a $50 bottle at $85, nor can I continue offering Ferrari by the glass: with these tariffs, I have to remove it. And what I think, others think too. Then it all depends on how people respond—if customers stop buying our wines, I'll have to do something else.

Like what?
My sommelier says we need to dedicate a page to Californian wines; now we will certainly focus on them.

What is the mood among restaurateurs?
Last night, everyone was on the phone looking at Trump's tariff table. But we still don't know what to do: they tell you not to worry, that it will change, but I really don't know what I will do. The only thing I can think of is that if we remove Italian wines, we can at least continue selling the others.

But the tariffs don't only affect wine...
It seems like they are also targeting coffee... and then cheeses: Parmigiano can now easily cost around $60 per kilo. And buffalo mozzarella! A 125-gram portion used to cost us $4, now it will rise to over $6.50. Who will buy it anymore? I can tell you: we're ruined.

What is the situation like in Miami?
I've been here since a year before Covid, and in these years, Miami has changed so much, improved so much. I fled New York for Miami, but when I arrived six years ago, the cuisine was far behind—the city was beautiful, but the restaurants were not.

And today?
Today, everything has changed: where I used to work, there are now 70 restaurants on the same street. And there are no longer those dead periods like before; now, there is no more high and low season. Thomas Keller, Zuma, Komodo, Massimo Bottura with Torno Subito have arrived, and now it seems even Dabid Muñoz is coming.

So the exodus to Florida is real?
Post-Covid, many people came here from New York. It was unbelievable—rents increased by more than 50%, a house that used to cost $1500/$1600 now goes for $2500/$2600. Many also came from California, partly because the climate is almost the same.

Why Miami?
Maybe because Miami is more of a southern city—the sea helps a lot, it recharges you, and for those in this line of work, that is very important. Even if, of course, 12 months of heat a year isn’t for everyone.

How does your restaurant fit into this scene of big names?
This is a small Italian omakase with 60 seats (and 20-22 employees) featuring a blind tasting menu. You only choose between land and sea and indicate any allergies. It’s a different concept for the city.

And how is it going?
On Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, we easily serve 120 or 130 people, sometimes turning tables over 2.5 times; during the week, it's still slow, from 20 to 40 or more. But it's fine—I just opened. There's a strong flow of people, and the city is large.

What kind of clientele do you get?
In America, restaurants are very busy—people come even three times a week, so you always have to offer something new. And that’s good; otherwise, even I would get bored.

How often do you change the menu?
Every four months, but every week, we introduce three or four specials. You have to keep things exciting. In Miami, you need a show—it’s not like in Italy.

What do you mean?
You have to play with the dishes. For example, hot and cold appetizers arrive all at once, filling the table, like family meals in Italy. They are typical southern Italian appetizers. Bringing them all together creates a sense of sharing, where people touch, pass plates to each other. And we play a lot with service.

Can you give us some examples?
I serve zucchini flowers in a ‘curniciello,’ gelato on a set of lips, bao directly into the customer’s hand to create familiarity, and we have a large hand-shaped table with a unique menu. There, we also play a lot—for example, in one dish, the waiter feeds the customers with a small spoon shaped like an ice cream scoop.

And do people like it?
Yes, it's a big seller—it’s booked almost every day.

Your cuisine is Mediterranean with very personal elements.
Yes, we make both classic Neapolitan dishes and others that incorporate international influences, like bao with ‘melanzane a funghetto’ or salmon, which is very popular here, served with wasabi and apple balsamic sauce. Or ‘genovese’ sauce, but with a small gnocchetto.

A gnocco alla genovese?
My mother always made it for me. But what I make is not a potato gnocchi—it’s a very light savory choux pastry because I want the meat ragù, slow-cooked for 13 hours, to stand out. I add a touch of carrot at the end for freshness. I let the gnocchi dry in the fridge so it firms up a bit, and when pressed in the center, it creates a hollow that remains even after boiling. I finish it with a red cow Parmigiano fondue.

What sells the most in Miami?
Burgers, pizza, and, of course, pasta. If you're a Campanian chef, people expect pasta. On the tasting menu, I have a duet that people love. Sometimes, I serve ‘candele’ pasta cooked in San Marzano tomatoes, evoking classic rigatoni with tomato sauce.

Why not just use rigatoni?
Here, dishes need to be complex: they must have sweetness, crunch, bitterness. You have to elevate them. You can’t just serve spaghetti with a watery tomato sauce.

So it depends on the ingredients. What can you find in Florida?
The meat is excellent—great ribs, steak cuts, picanha. We do dry aging, and we make Neapolitan-style cured meats with pepper and rosemary. But I’m not satisfied with the fish.

And the rest?
Florida has great land, and tomatoes originated in America, but they’re not like ours. Same with eggplants. I source everything from artisans. But I still import piennolo tomatoes from Carbone, buffalo mozzarella twice a week, San Marzano tomatoes, pasta from Pastificio dei Campi, and Muraglia olive oil, both in the kitchen and at the table with ceramic bottles.

Back to the main issue… what will you do now?
I have no idea what to expect. Parmigiano, pasta, olive oil—there are no better labels than the Italian ones. My God, we’re ruined.

Who is Marco Giugliano?

Piazzolla di Nola is 30 kilometres from Naples and 8,500 from Miami, where Marco Giugliano has opened his restaurant, Mano Libera. He has always taken pride in his origins: "I was lucky to be born in Campania, where the best ingredients in the world come from," he often says, recounting the influence of the volcanic soil and the breeze from the Gulf of Naples on local produce.

This is where his gastronomic DNA was shaped, among the flavours of the vegetable garden and his mother's cooking. He studied at the hospitality school in Somma Vesuviana and then trained as a pastry chef with Pasquale Marigliano. He honed his skills at his brother's restaurant before embarking on his own journey: working with the Sposito brothers at Taverna Estia in Brusciano, then moving to London to Quattro Passi with the Mellino family—where his signature pasta alla Nerano recipe originates.

From there, he went on to Mykonos and eventually took the leap across the ocean, fulfilling a childhood dream: "I've always been a fan of America. As a kid, I watched a lot of Miami Vice and dreamed about it."

At one point, he landed in Branford, at Strega, the restaurant of Danilo Mongillo—"two wonderful years," as he describes them—awarded two forks in Gambero Rosso's Top Italian Restaurants and the first restaurant in Connecticut to enter the Michelin Guide.

He then moved to Miami, joining Doma, where he stayed for five years—five years dedicated to promoting contemporary Italian cuisine, a balance of premium ingredients and technique.

"All my dishes are made in the South," he says. "Even though I'm in the United States, I carry my Campania with me."

Info: www.manoliberamiami.com