The 5 Dishes that Made My Career: Michael White

Chef Bianco talks food memories from Italy, the joys of a duck press, and the genesis of Marea's signature pasta.

At first glance, Michael White seems an unlikely contender for the title of “Prince of Pasta.” The chef doesn’t speak with an Italian accent (he’s from Wisconsin) or boast of ancient bloodlines to the Boot. But none of that matters when you taste the man’s food: It’s pure Italian, soulful and true.

White has built his own legacy, training under the masters, living and working in Italy, and slowly but surely developing his own distinct style with the cuisine. He spent seven years working at San Domenico, a fine-dining institution in the gastronomic wonderland that is Emilia-Romagna, before coming to New York to run the now-shuttered Fiamma in 2002.

Since then, he’s launched a series of ragingly popular regional Italian restaurants—Marea, Osteria Morini, Ai Fiori, Nicoletta, and more—and shows no signs of slowing down (Ristorante Morini on the Upper East Side and Osteria Morini D.C. are slated for 2013, as is his much-anticipated Tribeca spot, Butterfly).

A gregarious talker—especially when it comes to Italy—White has a lot to say about the early experiences that led him to create some of his most iconic dishes, like the fusilli with red wine-braised octopus and bone marrow that he can “never, ever take off” the menu at Marea.

Here, White shares his influences and memories, plus pro tips for closing the deal with a lady (hint: it involves dining al fresco in the South of France).

This interview has been condensed and edited.

1. Fusilli with red wine-braised octopus and bone marrow at Marea (New York)

This dish is synonymous with [Marea] already, and the restaurant is only three years old. I’ll never be able to take this dish off the menu—there’d be a mutiny. We braise the octopus and add bone marrow to enrich it instead of olive oil or butter. It was by happenstance that we were making family meal at Alto years ago and we had octopus and marrow, and when we brought them together it was delicious. It works because of the richness of the marrow and the unique flavor of the octopus—when you reduce the cooking liquid around the octopus, it gets this very unctuous, meaty texture and taste. Then we make a very hard-wheat pasta, with durum and semolina, that has almost the same texture, and a toothsome quality that’s almost like the tips of the octopus.

2. Bouillabaisse at Le Bacon (French Riviera)

When I was cooking in the South of France in the mid-’90s, I took my future wife here, and this soup pretty much sealed the deal. Eating bouillabaisse and drinking white wine looking over the water—it doesn’t get much better. There are many places in the area that make bouillabaisse, but this one happens to be made with whole rock fish. They have a very sweet, inherently iodine-y flavor that comes from the tiny plankton and seaweed they eat along the rocks in the South of France. Anyone can make bouillabaisse, but having that kind of fish really makes it beautiful.

3. Langoustine wrapped in brick paper at Jamin by Joël Robuchon (Paris)

When I was coming up in cooking, it was the end of nouvelle cuisine and the start of a more natural style. I’ll never forget my first time going to eat at Robuchon's [now-closed Jamin] in the early ’90s: We had this langoustine wrapped in brick paper. It’s an Arabic paper, almost like a phyllo, but just served simply with pesto and a beautiful raw langoustine. Then it’s pan-fried, so you get this crispy-sweet combination. It was just an epiphany moment. I got to see Joël the other week, and every time I’m with him, my mind immediately goes back to this dish.

4. Handmade garganelli with truffle butter, prosciutto, and spring peas at Fiamma (New York)

Garganelli is a pasta I learned to make when I went to Italy and became a stagiaire in the early ‘90s. It’s like the first type of penne pasta, before [people started making] extruded pasta. Each one of those quills is made by hand, and rolled across a cone. You put the dough on a square and turn it 45 degrees, then roll it around a dowel, so it’s got this beautiful, tight enclosure. It’s a great vehicle for prosciutto and cream sauce—[this] is one of the first dishes I learned to make in Emilia-Romagna.

5. Duck à la presse at San Domenico

It’s something I enjoyed doing as a young person at San Domenico. I’d leave the kitchen and go press the ducks for the diners—it’s a bit of tableside theater. You cut the carcass into small pieces after you bone it at the table, and run it through this crank to get it to release all of its juices. It’s just unbelievable, especially when you add a bit of something luxurious, like foie gras or black truffles.