Moreno Cedroni's Marche region

I look at the Marche with the same eyes as those who, driving down the motorway from North to South, from Cattolica to San Benedetto, are more eager to look right, towards the inland, observing the never too pronounced and discreet hills (a bit like our character) that hide mines full of very important food and wine products.

First of all I find the Pesaro motorway exit and think of an important musician and gourmand, and of the international festival named after him, namely Gioacchino Rossini. The Metauro valley opens in front of you, with its furniture factories and the Pecorino laboratories. I see the exit in Fano and think of Acqualagna, with its white truffle arriving on the tables of half the world. Or of Cartoceto, where you can find Vittorio Beltrami and his Gastronomia; he’s the local «last of the Mohicans», with his goats, his cheese, his oil. The exit in Marotta leads to the Pergolese way: Moretti Forni reminds me of my first gas oven in which, in 1984, I prepared pizzas in a small pan. And along the way there’s the Ferretti shipyard where they build Persching yachts.

There are many things I could say about the Senigallia exit. Destiny had me almost born in sea water: my mother, a passionate clam and razor shell fisher, on July 9th 1964, paying little attention to her big belly, had followed the usual call of the blue waters which, as soon as you opened the bedroom window, would appear in front of you as if it wanted to get inside the room. Before 1975, when they were still building small walls and pavements, each storm had the water full of foam arrive right into the house, together with the people who had put their tent on the lawn next to the beach, before camping sites arrived.

At that time, sand dunes and canes made the seafront incredibly beautiful. Besides, as I was small, everything seemed so big. This sea has accompanied me since then, and never left me: whatever I may do, it wants to be a part of it, from the marine institute I attended to the restaurant I opened when I was 28, and which has marked my history as a chef, allowing me to redesign some new borders in seafood cuisine.

Indeed, this scenery between Senigallia and Marzocca is unknown to our children because you have to be closer to your fifties to have seen it. The tar-less seafront, the bicycles rides across town. And then on a scooter, and on a vespa, and then again by car. Senigallia witnessed my growing up, and I observed as Senigallia grew too, road after road, square after square, fair after fair, flood after flood. According to us locals and to our clients coming from all over the world, today it is a liveable town, with an excellent quality of life and most of all it is a beautiful place.

From the roundabout to the pier, from Piazza delle Erbe to Rocca Roveresca, to Palazzo del Duca. These are our business cards for foreign tourists. It is the city of popes, of great photographers, of great chefs. Giacomelli’s photos, when I opened the restaurant in 1984 are truly beautiful: before appreciating his art, I used to go to his printing workshop when I had to buy some receipt pads. I later dedicated a dish to him, to which I gave the same name as the title of his book: “a black figure waiting for white”. For all these reasons I would have liked to give Senigallia the blue flag right from the start, as soon as I was born!

1. to be continued