Tradition and formation
Traduttore Family of bakers, short schools, White Art in Turin, first experiences in a hotel parental Alba, training in a bakery in western Liguria and return to Langa to detect the historical pastry "From Giusepein", with centuries-old heritage in the old style, recipes dusty, photographs in black and white and a hint halfway between the flour and semi-finished products: those nights of pastry where the dosage were years and years of trying, coercion, reprimands and final magnification of the customer who never went rejected. Pastry Fabrizio took off, preserving. He tried to renew keeping intact that one founding principle all requests for dessert: hazel, hazelnut and even hazelnut.
F abrizio started sourcing from farmers and processors to Cravanzana, which is farther Cortemilia, albeit a few kilometers, as a clear sign of a different project. Because even on the hazelnut something had to be done. Cake with hazelnut, local pride, has interpreted not eschewing wheat to match the hazelnut flour, dampening the fat of fat (butter and hazelnut oil), where the taste buds are frustrated and lashes. Here, everything is much more balanced, especially in stocks. But his back-innovation is the kiss of Langa, a patented invention that recalls the kiss of a lady, with a hazelnut cream inside and enviable crumbly biscuit.
The taste is a afternoon instinct more than a predisposition to surprise... And Fabrizio love this land more than any country.
Between Roccaverano and Coirtemilia. Hazelnut and moscato d’Asti. Definied area from typical products, from his company and inevitable barkers .
Hazelnut is a hint of saplings that hullers made in quantity. Everything revolves around the terroire, the choices are always improvisations on a tissue of habits crystallized for centuries. So born in these parts is an escape or an obligation apology. What you can create it is already borne. Yet the beauty all signs except the monotony.
F rom answers, crop issues. Here there is a religious gray, made of rituals. mythology, faces expressionless, countries extinct souls dissipated, mayors-pastors-arms manufacturers-jesters-growers-and strolling players all enclosed in the same person, which is madam, politics and a little 'son of a bitch. Municipalities are wards of the few social relationships and a lot of land where sorrow and let flow the wrong directions to the American tourist with a belly pale. Place of remembrance and nostalgia. People are furnishings and accents..