From a Parma
cellar to a
Fitzrovia table.
Ninety-nine years of one family's cooking — starting in a hillside latteria outside Parma, arriving in London with two suitcases and a wheel of parmigiano, and still rolling pasta by hand every morning at six.
Langhirano · Parma · MCMXXVII A timeline,
written in evenings.
The long record of ninety-nine years of cooking — the first cellar, the first London service, the awards we are quietly proud of, and the people we have fed along the way.
How we cook, really.
Four principles, unchanged since Giuseppe. Everything on the menu passes through them first, and if it fails any one, it does not go out.
The room you sit in, now.
Seventy-two seats on the ground floor. Forty below, in La Cantina. A walnut bar polished once a week by the same man who polished it in 1994. The wall behind the pass is still hung with the prosciutti we cut ourselves.
The kitchen serves lunch and dinner Tuesday through Sunday. The cellar is open for tastings by appointment. Sunday pranzo is a four-hour event — one sitting, one menu, whichever cut of Chianina the butcher found on Saturday.
Pietro is usually on the floor in the evenings. Elena is usually at the pass. Marco is usually pouring Lambrusco for someone who was expecting something sweeter than they got. Nonna Lucia, Tuesdays, still rolls the pasta.
The dining room · Fitzrovia Come sit at our table.
A family of four generations, a menu of nine courses, and a cellar of nine hundred bottles — waiting on Great Portland Street.