Part II:
Multiplicity
Critics deride Massimiliano’s creations as minimalism, in the sense that his dishes are usually composed of no more than three or four ingredients prepared in a seemingly simple way. The food we have tasted in Le Calandre showed us that this minimalism was not a defect or a mistake, but purposely done in order to distinguish the core idea by trimming off the unnecessary.
One of Massimiliano’s dishes was more like a rendezvous, where every part of his world meets. It was the node of a network linking the chef’s perceptions of time, the environment, and his emotions. That was the reason why the Murano glass, Japanese seaweed, Sicilian bottarga, monzarella cheese from Naples, and even his praise of maestro chefs like Aimo Moroni, his love for the family, and the memory of his tastes were all whisked into his cooking, making the multiple facets of life the indivisible elements in his creations.
We also recognized the multiplicity of his methodology. The highlight of my main course, Maialino da latte al forno con salsa di senape e polvere di caffe, was a piece of suckling pig’s belly that had been roasted for 30 hours at a low temperature, paired with creamy mustard seed puree and seasoned with coffee powder. The crispy skin left no oily residue, but melted homogeneously in my mouth, and the meat was tender, juicy and layered with jelly-like fat of an extremely pure smell. In another main course, the chef slid in a film of mozarella water (the film that forms as one boils the water squeezed from monzarella cheese) between the Piedmont beef and the plate. With this smart design, he married the beef to the rhubarb sauce, in both texture and flavor. The last pasta dish on our menu, cappelli dumplings filled with gorgonzola and beat root sauce, seemed to be the most Italian one, especially in its appearance and al dente firmness. As it exploded in our mouths, however, the various flavors that scattered out of the dumplings were so sophisticated and well-balanced that we immediately recognized the influence of French grand chefs like Marc Veyrat and Michel Guérard.
Visibility
Enjoying Massilmiliano’s cuisine was a real visual treat. Not only were all the dishes beautifully laid out and vibrantly colored, but they also conveyed the chef’s ideas through their own appearances.
The crispy cannoli (a traditional pasta roll), with its white filling of parmigiano and ricotta cheeses, red tomato puree and flourishingly green basil leaves, was actually an abstract of the Italian flag. Things became even more vivid when we finally reached the desserts.
The gioccadele — gioco di chocolato 2006 was climax of our three desserts. Massimiliano created this year’s version of the “game of chocolate,” a staple of Le Calandre’s dessert repertoire, for his eight-month-old daughter, Adele. Nine pieces of well-crafted sweets were deployed within a rectangular plate; a baby’s pacifier covered with a white chocolate outside and filled with dark chocolate, a cup of milk chocolate, hazelnut ganache, a fruit cake soaked in chocolate and wine sauce, orange cinnamon sorbet, three-layered jelly in a glass made with berries, and lambrussco (a sparkling red wine from Veneto), beer maringe, and a pipe puffing smoke to the right.
As we tasted this sequence one by one, I realized that this “game of chocolate” perfectly symbolized different stages of a little girl’s life. Milk and chocolate in childhood, the acidity and bitter sweetness of citrus fruit for her first love, being productive and energetic as sparkling wine, and the sweet beer maringe that welcomed the soul with a homey atmosphere. At the end, the sip of Italian eau de vie from the pipe, combined with the caramel smell of bittersweet chocolate dipped around the pipe’s mouthpiece, concluded the last phase with charmingly matured joy.
For a brief spell, the top chef flaunting his ingenuity had given way to a loving father who was full-heartedly bestowing best wishes upon his little girl in every way he could. It was the sweetest dessert I had ever eaten. With no reservations, we concluded that Massimiliano must be the most sophisticated yet innocent grand chef that one could ever meet.
“In Heaven the angels play the music of Bach before God to honor Him. But when the angels are by themselves they play Mozart.” To me, Massimiliano should not only be admired by his unbounded originality, the cheer and joy he conveys to his audiences, or the genius that won his family its third Michelin star at his 30th birthday. It is his humor and childlike playfulness combined with the deep contemplation of a culinary philosopher that reveals him as a “Mozart” in his cuisine.
And that was truly a three-star Italian cuisine for sure, the immortal culinary note the Alajmos have written for Italy’s cooking heritage.
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