Modus Locatelli

In most countries, ‘slow food' is a movement. In Italy, it's a simple fact of life and the result is not only a cornucopia of extraordinary ingredients, but an approach to cooking that respects inherent quality and aims to extract maximum flavour without having to spice things up.

 

It's in this second trait that there's hope for those of us who don't live in a realm where volcanic soils spill perfect produce. Modus operandi rules, which, had he not opted for ‘Food & Stories', would have been an excellent payoff line for Giorgio Locatelli's first foray into print, Made in Italy.

From page one, you get the impression that Locatelli has waited years to share what he knows, but is less than enamoured by the clinical nature of most recipe books and their need to measure by the milligram and litre.

Preparing food, Locatelli style, is a soulful pursuit and you can almost feel his relief at the occasional reference to a ‘bunch of parsley' or a ‘half wine glass of water'.

In his kitchen, method is far more important than maths and the book is filled with technical tips and insights that will become part of any food lover's permanent culinary arsenal.

Consider, for example, his take on the most iconic and simple of Italian meat sauces, ragù alla bolognese. There's nothing surprising in the short list of ingredients: flavour base of onion, carrot and celery, beef mince, red wine, garlic, passata, a smidgen of tomato paste, a bouquet garni of sage and rosemary.

But something magical happens when you put it together alla Giorgio - not allowing the vegetable mix to brown as it softens up with the herbs and whole garlic cloves; sizzling off the mince until it starts to stick to the bottom of the pan at which point, "the meat is ready to take the wine".

Where others use time and temperature, Locatelli talks texture and feeling, turning the stovetop into an altogether more sensual experience. As a result, with each step, you can see, smell, almost touch the flavours as they develop into the kind of rich and complex result that puts Aromat-chefs to shame.

When he demystifies the art of handmade pasta, he does it in such a way that you'll be beating a path to your nearest home store in search of a pasta-roller - and beating a path back to assemble pumpkin and amaretti biscuit ravioli.

Or creating a sturdy, dry, authentic lasagne with delicate sheets of pasta and thin layers of ragù and béchamel. "Kids will cry in Italy if you give them lasagne al forno that doesn't stand up straight on the plate. If it falls over, they say, ‘What's wrong; it's all floppy?'"

His risotto, likewise, elevates sticky rice to something far more ethereal. From the beating in of the parmesan and butter mantecatura to the day after the feast when the leftovers are rolled and breadcrumbed into deep-fried balls of arancini, these are the kind of dishes that lead to long-lasting friendships.

For such rewards, we can all be thankful that Giorgio took a step back from his grill at London's Michelin-starred Locanda Locatelli long enough to pen this book, season it with a little philosophy and serve it with a passion that is perfectly illustrated on the back cover: "Italians just want to welcome people by sharing whatever they have, however simple, in abundance. An Italian's role in life is to feed people. A lot. We can't help it." And after delving into 600 pages of his food and stories, you won't be able to either.

Brandon de Kock is a writer, editor and photographer who spends more time than he should eating great food and drinking fine wine.