When and why did you decide to open a bakery? 

This will seem a strange thing to most: I never decided and I never opened a pastry shop! Caffè Sicilia existed before me–exactly since 1892. When I was a child, the pastry shop was owned and operated by my Aunt Nella, my mother’s sister. I used to visit her very often and, from the age of six, every day after school. After saying goodbye to my aunt, I would run off to the workshop to “play” with the pastry chefs. I continued to do this until I was 25, when I told my aunt that I was ready, together with my brother Carlo and my fiancée Nives (later my wife and mother of my children), to take over from her. My aunt’s age was advanced, and her health condition did not allow her to conduct everything to the best of her ability. I just had to “feel” that the time had come to take on the responsibility, fortunately a shared one, and I understood that I was ready for the adventure. We “set sail” on July 1st, 1985.

What memories of Caffè Sicilia do you have from your childhood? 

The days and life in the laboratory of Caffè Sicilia were, and continue to be, marked by the rhythm of the seasons, the succession of important holidays, and the arrival of tourists, vacationers, and returning immigrants who spend their summers in the village [Noto]. For this reason, my memories are of smells, colors, rhythms, and sounds that the succession of days in the workshop imprinted upon me. 

What were some of the most prominent smells? 

I remember the scents of the spices, so strong that they impregnated the walls for days. Above all, the preparation of the mixture of cloves and cinnamon that still perfumes the faccioni, Noto’s Christmas cookies made of toasted almond paste and filled with a compote of jams and marmalades. 

I remember the colors and scents of the fruits: in winter, citrus fruits, used for the production of jams and candied fruit; in spring, the little strawberries of Noto–which have now almost completely disappeared, to my great regret–for the production of granita; in summer, the black mulberries that invaded the workshop rooms, along with that of the verdelli, the summer lemons, green and very fragrant; figs announced the end of summer. When quinces for cotognata arrived and the smell of almond royal paste, used for the production of Martorana fruit on the Feast of the Dead, spread in the air, we knew we’d arrived at the height of autumn.

I remember the smell of honey baking, used for nougats and cookies in winter–a scent that brought with it the arrival of Christmas. At Easter, the sweet scent of almonds returned again, this time for the production of Pasta Reale, used for the shaping of Easter lambs. Welcome back spring!

How do these sensorial elements affect your approach to pastry?

My approach to the world of pastry-making could not be unrelated and insensitive to these rhythms, these scents, to connecting them not only to the times of the year, but also to temperature in the laboratory and outside; to the variation of humidity in the air, caused by the cooking of fruit for candying or for the production of quince; to the frenzy of the pace of work, high, very high in the imminence of a big celebration, and very low when tasks must be done sitting down (like for the production of Easter lambs or Martorana fruit). 

I never attended a professional pastry school. All of this instead is personal, unique, unrepeatable–as indispensable to my approach as the necessary training.

For you, the separation of sweet and savory is a conceptual mistake, and today you are a cook who creates and experiments constantly: when did you feel the need to shake off the classical canons of pastry and why?  

Let’s start from the premise that there is no mistake. It’s just a different approach and point of view. I focus on the natural world of ingredients: there are salts and sugars in each. So each of them can be used in both savory and sweet preparations. I have always been convinced that the role of the cook includes both the preparation of savory and sweet dishes. And I am also convinced that the separation of sweet and savory on menus is relative to cultural, temporal, and geographical facts. Just change place, time, and cultural context and you’ll find profound changes to this organization of people’s diet.

The evolution of my work, which began about 25 years ago, seemed natural to me. I was cramped in the shoes of the pastry chef assigned only to the end-of-meal or breakfast sweetness. I felt impaired, able to use only a very narrow range of ingredients when I was enthusiastically passionate about many others. I was left with a lot of time to think about, and consequently work on, applications of new ingredients in pastry. I came to the realization that sweetness could not and should not reside only at the end of a meal. There was room for sweetness, provided it was absolutely natural and without added sugar, even in an appetizer, in a pasta dish, or in a dish with meat or fish. 

I had to make room for sweetness and work out new processing techniques. I remember that we were in the time when everyone in the kitchens aspired to the role of chef. I was just trying to be a processor of raw materials into food. Using some basic scientific knowledge of chemistry, physics, botany, zoology, biology and what I learned in the years of my boyhood and youth, I developed recipes that would express the heritage of Sicilian food culture. It was a beautiful adventure, deeply personal. 

Many people find Sicilian desserts, such as cassata and cannolo, particularly sweet. Do you as well? 

Personally, I find 90% of the pastries I taste very sugary. But I always make a distinction between sweet–constructed with ingredients that have sweetness of their own–and sugary–obtained by adding sugar. In the latter case, it is very often exaggerated, but not only in Sicily. We [are developing] less and less of a palate trained to detect taste: it’s much easier to perceive the sweetness of a food, or rather its sugaryness. At the end of WWII, sweetness expressed the end of poverty. Now, it’s a social problem induced by the overwhelming power of the food industry that has bombarded us with ever-increasing doses of sugars, very often in savory foods too. My elders used to remind me that “sugar doesn’t spoil the drink,” and so they added plenty. Sugar has been among the cheapest ingredients for many decades: it’s addictive and marketing experts know this well. 

Sugar also reduces the palate’s ability to taste ingredients and their quality. The higher the quality, the higher the cost of the ingredient. The higher the amount of added sugar, the lesser the ability of our palate to read ingredients’ low quality. 

I prefer for Caffè Sicilia to choose the best ingredients. And to make sure this quality is perceived, I reduce the amount of added sugar to a minimum. I look for natural sweetness: I find

it, concentrate it if necessary, and use it in such a way as to bring out the taste of that ingredient. I develop new sweets to enhance each [individual ingredient], expressing the moment of its harvest and offering the guests of Caffè Sicilia a taste of time’s rhythm.

What was the first thing you made? 

I have no memory of it. I always cooked next to my mother in the house. Or rather I used to help her cook. My first experiences in total independence go back to my early teenage years, those of the camp kitchens of Boy Scout summer camps. Real wood fires and very few tools on hand. First you would go out to collect wood, then you would stock up, then you would cook. A very useful experience for later years as an off-campus student. 

And now? What’s your favorite thing to cook? 

Now it gives me great joy and just as much satisfaction to cook fresh, seasonal vegetables. Many times even uncultivated. I will independently harvest them in the countryside. I get excited about the true and full flavor of vegetables, the boundless possibility of combining them, assembling them, and flavoring them with herbs and spices. Here I realize how fundamental the ability to listen is and the disposition to perceive the characteristics of each ingredient. The final result is the child of this sensitivity and the techniques that protect the flavor profile of each ingredient. The work of the cook and pastry chef should be at the disposal of the nature of the ingredients. 

When you’re not working in the bakery, what are your favorite places to go in Sicily? 

I devote little time to things other than working in the lab. But I get out of the lab a lot for work. I also visit and scout producers and suppliers, many of whom have become friends over the years. I frequent restaurant venues little, disappointing many of my chef friends who too infrequently see me cross the threshold of their restaurants or pizzerias or trattorias. Not enough time to be able to do so. When I can, I like to frequent places that give me a sense of time passing, of changing tastes, of young chefs whose ideas and freshness I like to see. They’re a kind of barometer to better understand where we are going.

You grew up in Noto: how have you seen the city change over the years? How has Caffè Sicilia played a role in that change?

This would be a great topic for a dissertation or a PhD in sociology and economics. [To really answer this question] would take expertise in these areas that I don’t feel I have. 

The Noto of my childhood was a town devoted to agriculture, to small trades. Emigration to the north of the country had already emptied the countryside and villages in the 1960s. By the late 1980s, the town’s economic and productive life was stagnant. 

A small but intense earthquake in December, 1990 offered the chance for a turnaround. Funds for post-earthquake rehabilitation and recovery of real estate, together with the notoriety given by television cameras and the front pages of the national press, brought Noto to the attention of the wider public. And with it, the cities, the sea, and the landscape of southeastern Sicily. Noto became a coveted destination for an increasingly international audience.

Caffè Sicilia modulated for decades as the real expression of Sicilian food culture. Now, it’s recognized as a foodie destination by travelers on the hunt for local culture, by those who wish to savor the goodness of a truly artisanal and refined production. After being Sicily’s ambassador to the world, Caffè Sicilia now has the task of being a careful and refined vanguard, a sentinel for its territory in the sometimes stormy sea of the globalized world. 

What is a Sicilian dessert or dish that deserves wider recognition?

As I mentioned earlier, Sicily in the last two decades has seen the explosion of tourism on the one hand and, on the other, globalization’s effects on customs and lifestyles. One of the consequences of these two phenomena is the abandonment, especially in professional catering, of the richness of Sicilian winter cuisine. Tourists flock to the island in spring/summer: as a result, many restaurants, especially in small and medium-sized towns, close when there is no demand in autumn and winter. The cuisine linked to the fish, vegetables, and climate of those seasons is being lost as a result. [This culture] survives within the family, but, at home, people are cooking less and less and always for a shorter time. Much of winter cooking requires long, slow cooking times: few now manage to master this technique with good results.

What is an aspect of Sicily that you would like more people to know about? 

You might have already understood this from what I’ve said so far: I would like the immense heritage of Sicilian food culture to be known more and in greater depth. This is closely intertwined with the agricultural, pastoral, and maritime heritage. In short, I could call it an unrepeatable anthropological heritage. Think how much of the island’s cuisine, for example, is linked to religious and popular festivals, in which food plays a fundamental role; think how much the rhythm of the countryside and the sea shapes our cuisine and how all of it is guided by place and climate; think how intimate the link is between food craftsmanship and that at the service of the table and the kitchen; think how close this is to art. 

How would you describe Sicily in three words?

Complex, difficult, passionate.

Have you seen The White Lotus set in Sicily? If yes, what did you think?

No, I have not seen it. Many people have told me about it. I follow the world of television very little in general.

This interview has been translated from Italian and edited for length and clarity.