The Roots of My Cooking

My name is Nadia, and I have been cooking for as long as I can remember. I started as a child, standing on a chair so I could reach the stove.

I grew up in a farming family. My grandmother, Zelinda, taught me how to recognise wild herbs, while my grandfather, Giovanni, gave me my love for the land. When I was still too young to work in the fields, my job was to prepare lunch. The kitchen was filled with whatever the vegetable garden and the henhouse had to offer, always following the rhythm of the seasons. It was there that my way of cooking took shape: simple, honest, and guided by deep respect for ingredients and the time they need.

My homeland is the Valtiberina, a borderland where Tuscany, Umbria, Marche, and Emilia-Romagna meet. It is a place where flavours, traditions, and cultures have blended for centuries. Here, I learned that cuisine preserves a sense of identity, while also thriving through encounters, exchange, and constant evolution.

Food is the thread that weaves together my memories. Simple dishes, born of necessity and made with whatever was available, yet able to nourish, comfort, and bring the family together around the table. It is in that culture of simplicity—of making something meaningful from very little—that my cooking has its roots. As a young woman, I chose a different path. I studied, moved to new cities, and pursued a different career, convinced that my future lay elsewhere. Yet wherever I went, I always felt that something was missing. So I returned to my culinary roots. Or perhaps it was cooking that found its way back to me.

Today, every dish tells the story of this journey: the memories from which it was born, the land that inspires it, and the curiosity that continues to drive me forward. To me, tradition is not something to preserve unchanged, but a root from which to grow—one to be interpreted with sensitivity and freedom, allowing it to evolve without ever losing sight of what truly matters. That is why I still cook the way I learned as a child: with respect for the land, care for the people I cook for, and gratitude for all that has been passed down to me. Because every dish carries something of the person who prepares it and of the land from which it comes. Perhaps that is what cooking truly means to me: preserving a memory and giving it new form, again and again.