The chef at Manna returns to tell his story through dishes that focus squarely on flavor, a critical look at the food press, and a touch of irony.
Why are you so angry with journalists?
“Because for years, if you typed my name into Google, the first twenty results were ‘Matteo Fronduti, born in 1980, chef born in Rho, a town on the outskirts of Milan.’”
So what?
“So what? These are the date and place of birth of Matteo Torretta, the chef who reached the Top Chef final with me. Someone must have got the first one wrong and then everyone just copied and pasted it. In a job like this, people who copy don't just piss me off, they make me think a lot. What's more, I've been criticized for dishes that I've never had on the menu, that I didn't offer on the menu, that I didn't cook.”
The restaurant
This is how my lunch at Manna by Matteo Fronduti begins. Born in 1977 in Gorla, a historic neighborhood north of Milan. I always try to defend the category I belong to, to protect my colleagues from the sharp criticism of chefs (yes, again), but on this occasion, how can I blame Fronduti? Okay, let's put aside our disagreements and reflections for now and return to Manna, which underwent a facelift in 2023 thanks to the intervention of designer Alberto Barbieri (BDA Studio). A larger kitchen, a more sophisticated dining room, a small bar at the entrance, and a wall of wine (a splendid full-height refrigerated cellar housing a fine collection of labels).
Has it become pretentious? No, it has simply evolved and caught up with Fronduti's cuisine, which has never changed in essence but has inevitably matured. The dining experience, in its structure, is always the same and is divided into four options: the menu, for those who want to feel free to choose; Sedici, which, on the occasion of Manna's seventeen years (Fronduti does not declare himself superstitious, “but if you're not careful, it brings bad luck”), encompasses the most beloved dishes; L'Altro, a more exploratory and intimate journey, for those who want to learn more about the chef's gastronomic philosophy; and finally, Porcherie, a provocative and, in some ways, extreme offering, in perfect Fronduti style. Let's get down to business, namely lunch at Manna, enjoying dishes and chatting with Matteo Fronduti who, before the restaurant filled up despite it being a mundane Monday, had some time to answer my questions.
The interview
In 2023, you reopened Manna with a new look. When a chef changes the look of a restaurant, it's because, in some way, he has changed too. What is Manna today?
“Manna today is what it was yesterday, but better. The idea behind Manna is still the same: to create gourmet cuisine. Gastronomy is the field of intellectual disciplines focused on what is good. Manna is a gourmet restaurant where you can eat well and is free of frills, of obstacles that get in the way of enjoying the restaurant.”
An example of these frills?
"The first obstacle is the bill. Frills are gestures, objects, rituals, mannerist liturgies that do not serve the functionality of the service, but only to make the guest perceive how cool we are. And in the end, they are a cost: you have to pay that cost. If you remove the frills and remain focused on gastronomy, the bill can be lowered and the enjoyment is more immediate.
The embryonic idea of what Manna has become was already there. Seventeen years have passed: I have aged as a man and matured in the kitchen. In the meantime, the restaurant's budget has also grown. The real need was to redo the technical spaces and systems, which, after 15 years of intense work, were crying out for forced retirement. Renovating the restaurant to look the same as before would have cost me a lot of money without adding anything to the customer experience. I decided to spend more and renovate everything so that the main criticism of Manna, namely that the container was not adequate for the content, could finally be remedied. Today, the container and the content are consistent.
While Fronduti tells me about today's Manna, I twirl my fork around the spaghetti, garlic, olive oil, chili pepper, raw scampi, and bergamot, and I realize how kind this dish is, how perfectly balanced it is, and how skillfully the bergamot is used. We all know that bergamot is too often an invasive element, but not here. The chili peppers that Fronduti has focused on are not relegated to the sole task of adding spiciness, but have been promoted to conveyors of that sweet and pirazinic flavor that demonstrates how intelligent this chef's palate is.
Over the years, your cuisine has been described as “hardcore” and “testosterone-fueled.” Do you like these labels, or do they feel restrictive?
Apart from wondering what the hell “testosterone-fueled cuisine” actually means, I think it's a qualifying adjective; at least it has a direction. When we renovated the restaurant, one of your colleagues said to me, “You can tell this is a man's restaurant.” Again, I don't fully understand. So I'll try to grasp the literal meaning of the words. Testosterone is the male hormone, and the male gender is associated with strength, courage, boldness, handsomeness, resourcefulness, and consistency. These are all positive adjectives, which obviously are not exclusive to men. If that's what you mean, then yes: my cuisine is testosterone-fueled. I'm not a mannerist, I'm not a hetero-guardian, I'm not a group follower. So I find this definition correct in these terms.
If by “hardcore” we mean the literal translation, i.e., the hard core of the matter, then absolutely yes. That's what it is: going to the center, to the primal point of things. If, on the other hand, you confuse hardcore with splatter, thinking only of pulverized livers, then you are trivializing it. And while we ramble on about hormonal concepts, I enjoy the roasted cauliflower, licorice, anchovies, raisins, and tarragon. Here too, I find a certain pleasure in the taste and use of licorice, which is a very difficult ingredient. Fronduti uses an extract of Calabrian licorice from a small producer. It does not anesthetize, spoil the palate, or manipulate it for the rest of the meal. Rather, it rounds it out, makes it more sophisticated, and transforms a mundane cauliflower into a memorable dish.
In 2021, you said that food criticism consists solely of serial praisers. What characteristics does a journalist you admire have? Do you believe that food journalism still has real critical value or is it just part of a show?
There are no journalists I admire. I swear to God: 99.90% of them are “ payments.” The only one I respected is dead: Mr. Gianni Mura. We had a personal as well as a professional relationship. He was the editor of the monthly magazine Emergency, and the office was nearby, so he came often. He never wanted to come as a guest until he wrote about us after a meal he paid for himself. That already says a lot. Then he started coming regularly, and we became friends. He was the only person I deeply respected for his cultural background, his values, and what he stood for throughout his life. The first time we sat down to talk about cooking, he interviewed me while I was making coffee: he pulled out subway tickets, bar napkins, and pieces of newspapers from his pockets on which he had written my entire life story. He knew everything about me even before interviewing me; he had jotted it down haphazardly, but he had done it. For him, it was a mere crumb of time, but he used it to take care of me when he had more important things to do.
For the rest, over the last 20 years, food journalism has had no real critical value. The last fierce criticism that generated debate, whether right or wrong, was that of Camilla Baresani in 2006 with Gold. Then everything became subordinate to interests. And when the news of Manna's new opening came out, the articles were copies of the press kit. I had you try the dishes precisely to give you the chance to deviate from the press kit. And then there is the issue of incorrect personal details: online you can still find that I am Matteo Fronduti, born in Rho in 1981. But that is the information about my friend Matteo Torretta. When the Top Chef final was on, they mixed up the personal details: the first one published it by mistake and since then the error has been systematically repeated. Was there anyone who checked? No. If you get the personal details wrong, what about the content?
At this point, I swallow the only bitter bite of the lunch and proceed with the questions.
Let's get back to cooking. When you talk about “junk food,” are you proposing a type of cuisine that you would like to find as a customer, or is it just provocation to build a persona?
“It's absolutely what I would like to find. I try to share it with people who have a playful spirit. Let me start by saying that between someone who is always angry and someone who is always happy, I prefer the former: people who are too happy scare me, they seem empty.”
What really angers you about the restaurant industry?
“What angers me most of all is hypocrisy, especially when it's marketed as a value. The idea that ‘you have to be a smartass because that's how the world works’. I don't want to come with you into that world.”
There is no hypocrisy in the rice, spleen mortadella, Marsala, caciocavallo cheese, and toasted bread that I finish down to the last grain (I've discovered that some people leave grains of rice on their plates. Where are we headed?). This is the emblem of what a “bold” dish should be. It doesn't mean extreme in the sense that it's hard to tell whether it's good or not. Nor does it mean that it's difficult to understand. It means that it continues to make your mouth water, bite after bite. It pushes hard on the palate, confusing you for a moment and then bringing you back to a clear vision of things. Lively flavor that hooks onto acidity. The famous umami that screams victory. No need to dwell on it.
Can you tell me about a colleague you admire and a restaurant you would recommend to a close friend?
"Riccardo Camanini. I worked for him for a while. A restaurant I would recommend? It depends on my friend's gastronomic profile. I've sent friends to Da Vittorio, and they were delighted; friends to Lido84, and they were delighted; friends to Ratanà, and they were delighted. You have to know people, their tastes, their mood before recommending a restaurant."
At this point in the lunch, I am grappling with Duck, mushrooms, and foie gras. From this dish, I realize that we are coming to the end because the fireworks are high in the brown sky, lighting up the day and exploding in bursts. It would be difficult to surpass this point in the show, I think it would be impossible. A delightful dish, tender meat, earthy aromas, the creaminess of the liver. I hear the applause of the ecstatic audience.
Sustainability, tradition, innovation, seasonality. Is it journalists who have a limited vocabulary, or is it you chefs who no longer have much to say?
“It's the press offices that have created a limited vocabulary to cater to the limited mental faculties of journalists. They had to write a code that monkeys could understand.”
Very good. I need something sweet here, and in fact, the raw goat's milk cheesecake, black grape sorbet, and cooked wine arrives. A good dessert that also has character. Does it stand up to the rest of the courses? I can't answer that, but then again, I ask the questions here and others give the answers. Matteo Fronduti is a very ironic person, who listens without rhetoric, very sensitive. The three ingredients of intelligence, a dish that is increasingly rare to find on menus.
Contacts & info
Manna Ristorante
Piazzale Governo Provvisorio, 6, 20127 Milano MI
Phone: 02 2680 9153
Website: https://www.mannamilano.it/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mannamilano/
