There is a generation of chefs who do not seek effect, but meaning. Who travels to open their eyes and then returns to sink their roots. Who speaks of territory not as a slogan, but as a daily, concrete, measurable choice. On Lake Gardabetween fresh water and Monte Baldo, Chef Andrea De Lillo builds a cuisine that rejects the shortcuts of fashion and chooses consistency as its only true luxury. A cuisine made of dialogue with producers, self-imposed limits, rigorous technique and authenticity. It is not a nostalgic cuisine but a conscious cuisine.
And perhaps it is precisely this awareness that makes it one of the most interesting voices in the new Italian gastronomy today. Overlooking the shores of Lake Garda and immersed in the elegant tranquillity of the Belfiore Park Hotel, is located NIN Restaurantin an area where water, light and mountains dialogue in constant equilibrium. Here the landscape is not a mere frame, but an integral part of the experience: the lake opens up like a living, changing horizon, capable of influencing atmosphere, cuisine and design vision.
In the heart of this unique setting, NIN blends harmoniously with environmental sustainability. Every element is designed to celebrate and preserve the extraordinary beauty of Lake Garda, from the gastronomic choices to the design of the spaces. The architectural project, curated by the Studio ABC (architects Barban - Cappellari), enhances the direct view of the water through contemporary lines and carefully selected materials, favouring local and natural resources. The space opens like a stage onto the lake, creating an elegant, sober and warmly welcoming atmosphere, in full respect of the surrounding environment.
NIN Ristorante thus offers a complete sensory experience, where haute cuisine, landscape and art are coherently and consciously intertwined. A commitment to sustainability - from the selection of ingredients to attention to every design detail - is at the heart of the restaurant's philosophy and is reflected in every dish and element of the space. In this privileged corner of Lake Garda, NIN becomes a place of connection: between man and nature, between memory and future, between taste and responsibility.
You are defined as one of the most interesting emerging chefs of the moment. Do you recognise yourself in this definition or do you feel you are already in a different phase of your journey? I still recognise myself in this definition. Probably until I am in my thirties I will be categorised as 'emerging', at least until I can get the message of my cuisine across definitively and have it identified more clearly. For now, however, it is a recognition that pleases me. Not so much for the label itself, but because it represents a boost for our Italian gastronomy. It is important to make people understand that young people yes, they leave, they go abroad, but they do it to learn, to observe, to open their minds. Then they come back. They come back to build something of their own, to create a niche, a personal space. You often hear that young people no longer want to work or return to Italy, but that is not the case. If you really love the place where you live and choose to embrace its identity, you eventually come back. And you can be happy here.
Travelling and working abroad was a crucial step in your journey. What did those experiences leave you with? I started travelling already during my studies and, living on Lake Garda, where catering is highly seasonal, winter was always the ideal time to leave. I was often told: "As long as you can, travel. It opens your mind." And it really did. In Copenhagen I had my first real opening into the contemporary gastronomic world; then came San Sebastián, South America, North America, Africa. Each experience added a different look, a new way of reading the profession. However, I missed Asia, which intrigued me deeply, especially from a gastronomic point of view. I decided to explore it on my own. I observed it, studied it, tasted it, trying to understand its soul more than to copy its forms. Asian culture today influences my cooking to some extent, but always as a dialogue and never as imitation. Everything is filtered through our elements, our raw materials, our territory.
On your journey, when did you realise that cooking was no longer about demonstrating, but about choosing, removing, simplifying? In 2016. At the time, sustainability was not yet so central to the gastronomic debate. The 'green star' did not exist. I was already aware that the moment I could truly express my personality in the kitchen, that concept would be an integral part of my vision. It was not something I pursued out of fashion. It was simply consistent with what I felt. In every restaurant I collected notions, techniques, ideas. I would jot them down in my notebooks. My kitchen was already structured in my head, even though I did not yet have a space of my own. Then the opportunity came: six tables, me alone in the kitchen with a part-time dishwasher. There I made my mark, with all the limitations of the case. It was a decisive experience. It was not a leap into the void. It was a gradual path, made up of coincidences, the right timing and opportunities that dovetailed at the right time. When the work is ready, the next step comes almost naturally.
Your cooking appears very deliberate, more reflective than instinctive. How much study goes into a dish before it reaches the table? If we talk about technique, there is absolute precision. A sauce must be smooth and silky: if it is not, it is not ready. But when you get into the realm of taste, of the setting, of the choice of cooking, self-criticism comes into play. It is not that because I made it then it is good. Comparison is fundamental. Briefings are made, dishes are tasted together, impressions are shared. The host is also involved in the evaluation: a pairing or a missing note can completely change the perception of the dish. Before arriving at the table, a dish is the result of collective work and continuous reflection.
You have often spoken of territory. What does that mean, concretely, in your daily cooking? It means giving ourselves limits. We do not go further than 70-80 kilometres in our choice of producers and raw materials. Not because it is an obligation, but because it is a choice. Today you can have any ingredient at any time of the year. But for us, supporting a territory means building a community. To collaborate with small farmers, artisans, fishermen. We can ask a farmer to experiment with a new variety. We can dialogue with a fisherman about the best time for a catch, the area of the lake, the quality of the water. This direct relationship creates trust, personalisation, identity. Here there is a human relationship that is then reflected on the plate. Territory, for me, means relationship, consistency and responsibility.
Is there an ingredient that you feel is particularly yours? I am tied to the poorest traditions: corn, potatoes, winter vegetables such as cabbage, cabbage, broccoli. Simple ingredients, but identifying ones. Today, working mainly in summer, I am not always able to exploit them as I would like. I actually feel connected to all the ingredients that tell the story of our territory. Next year we will propose three courses: one dedicated to the lake, a more personal one that tells of the dishes that identify me most, and one that will bring the lake into dialogue with Monte Baldo, including meat from small local farmers. I like to build a cuisine that is rooted in but able to embrace the different souls of the place.
How does one not get carried away by fashions today? Remaining authentic. Fashions pass. The territory remains. It evolves, it changes, but it remains. Even sustainability, today very much exposed in the media, may one day lose centrality. But if it is part of your vision, it will continue to exist in your work. It happened with the airs and foams that originated in Spain: today they are less dominant, but they have not disappeared. We also use certain techniques, but as a tool, not as a base. The base must be solid. And for me it is the territory.
Have you ever gone against the grain, even against your own rules? Yes. When we decided to use only wild fish from the lake, avoiding farmed trout or char. It became almost a manifesto. Then came the choice of caviar. I stopped, I visited the company in Calvisano, I saw their work. I decided to make an exception to the rule. But I did it my way: a dessert with sesame ice cream, blackberries from a local company and smoked caviar. It was a risk. They loved it. Sometimes small deviations, if consistent, can open up new paths.
What kind of customers choose you today? Our entry in the Michelin Guide has expanded our audience. We have an international clientele, particularly French, and a growing Italian presence. Today, however, the largest part is represented by German customers, thanks to our location on Lake Garda. It is a curious, attentive public that appreciates consistency and authentic ties with the territory.
Looking to the future, what kind of mark do you want to leave on contemporary cuisine? In a time when cuisine runs fast, between trends and spotlights, choosing to slow down may be the most radical act. To remain faithful to a territory, to dialogue with those who cultivate and fish it, to build a vision without chasing the latest fashion: for me, this is the real countercurrent. I don't want to make a cuisine that shouts. I want to make a cuisine that stays. In a gastronomic world that is constantly changing shape, I believe that maturity lies precisely there: in consistency, in depth, in the ability to build something that makes sense even when fashions have passed.
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