“How are you going to cook carbonara now?”
It’s a question that reverberated loud and clear across the long table at A Mano Bonifacio Global City. And it’s a fair and valid one raised by my good friend, food writer, and former F&B Report contributor Chinkee Koppe sitting across from me after we’ve just finished the plate of carbonara from Italian chef and so-called king of carbonara, Luciano Monosilio.
And let’s not forget that he is also one of the youngest Italian chefs ever to earn a Michelin star at 27. So that landmark comment from Chinkee was called for.
My love affair with carbonara
My mother’s carbonara is perhaps the single greatest comfort food I have ever eaten. Sure, it’s the Filipino-style carbonara that would drive purists mad but you can’t fault the love that mothers put into cooking for their children.
Food evokes memories. Certain dishes stir emotions. Flavors take you places. That’s what my mother’s carbonara does to me. A simple plate that conveys an experience of comfort and practically purpose-built for times when you just need to feel good.
Whereas the carbonaras I’ve eaten at home and elsewhere favor a kind of velvety delicacy, Luciano Monosilio’s treasure is defined by spectacle.
My love of carbonara is a constant thing but Monosilio’s plate was also one of the finest celebrations of the dish I’ve ever had. Whereas the carbonaras I’ve eaten at home and elsewhere favor a kind of velvety delicacy, Monosilio’s treasure is defined by spectacle.
It hits extra hard. It’s intense, powerful, wickedly aromatic, thunderous. A real moment of revelation. Luscious egg yolks coat the spaghetti to its core then fortified with black pepper, guanciale, Grana Padano, and Pecorino Romano that cleave through the mouth and down the esophagus, as if gnawing at the vestiges of all the carbonaras I’ve had in the past.
Monosilio came to Manila by way of Amado Forés’ A Mano and the two fostered a one-night only collaboration, which the young Forés has recently started to cultivate to great results.
“I had the privilege of meeting Luciano early in his career at Pipero al Rex where he earned his first Michelin star,” says Forés. “Over the years, we have kept in touch. So when the opportunity to work with Luciano came up, we jumped at the chance.”
The fruitful collaboration is two-pronged: First, the staging of the one-night event that introduced Monosilio to more Filipino customers and the second, possibly most important aspect, is the sharing of invaluable insights from the chef himself to refine A Mano’s pasta program and likely lodge a wealth of knowledge into the kitchen operations.
“We, as a restaurant, have been faithful to the authenticity of Italian cuisine. A Mano will always reach out our hand to heroes like Luciano who share our values and help us become a better restaurant,” says Forés.
The king of carbonara at work
The lunch was brief but shows Monosilio’s finest hour as he took over the A Mano kitchen to churn out some signature dishes at his Rome restaurant Luciano – Cucina Italiana.
The highlights are plenty with a lineup of carefully chosen wines such as a refreshing Prosecco brut from Veneto and a 2022 Pinot Grigio from Artisan Cellar Door enhancing the Italian flavors.
Monosilio’s opening salvo, the pasta lollipop, was a literal curveball that blended truffle pasta croquette and pepper bechamel into an adult homage of a childhood favorite. A subtle Piedmontese beef tartare with what seems to have a slinky brush of egg is also lovely.
The pici cacio e pepe made with 00 flour (or finely ground Italian flour) is incredible in its simplicity; the al dente firmness displays the technical prowess of Monosilio and his sous-chef Luca Medei sans the unique on-site pasta factory they have in Rome, which produces dry pasta from durum wheat semolina.
Yet this isn’t just about technical skills or gifts. When the “Margherita” tortelloni (stuffed with ricotta, spinach, and pomodoro) comes round, my other seatmate, food and prop stylist and visual storyteller Chichi Tullao quips: “This feels like a warm hug.” And I couldn’t agree more.
Amid a deluge of pasta as well as a lamb and potato bowl sitting in almond milk, the sweet finish from the tiramisù (where a mandatory breaking of a dark chocolate disc is needed to release the coffee inside and to scoop up the treat) and the crisp Sicilian cannolo offer a welcome respite.
Am I at a pasta junction?
What’s great about Monosilio’s menu that day was the pace and delivery and how it moved from surprising and simple to immersive and almost hallucinogenic. At least after the first bite of the neatly piled carbonara.
Did it skew my perceptions of my long standing love of my mother’s carbonara? It depends on what mood you catch me in—though seriously speaking, the two follow very different formulas.
What’s great about Monosilio’s menu that day was the pace and delivery and how it moved from surprising and simple to immersive and almost hallucinogenic. At least after the first bite of the neatly piled carbonara.
And yet despite the stark differences between the two versions, it’s hard not to see the ties that bind both—the commitment to creating food that speaks to anyone and sticks with you for a long, long time.
But I’ll probably come for the king’s carbonara in Rome. Sorry, mom.