edited by Camilla Mignone
A measured reality, in Raveo, in the heart of Carnia. Far from the city, on the edge of the forest, Indiniò does not seek to impose itself but to welcome. A place that invites you to listen, where the cuisine follows the rhythm of the surrounding land. Here, amidst severe mountains and meadows that change dress with the seasons, Gloria Clama chooses to shape a cuisine that does not shout, but tells. An intimate, deep-rooted and deeply personal gastronomic language that sinks its hands into the earth and restores meaning to the act of cooking.
Indino means 'nowhere'. What did you intend to create by choosing such a radical name?
Indeed, it is a name that comes from the land, from an ancient dialect that few still use today. Already from the name we tell what we do: we recover survival gestures, forgotten practices, living thanks to what nature offers barks, lichens, wild herbs. Today they call it foraging, with us it was simply 'o voi a cjapâ sù lis jerbis'.
Indino is that place where you feel so good that you don't feel the need to give it a name. It doesn't matter where you are, it matters how you feel.
It is also a simple answer to an everyday question: 'Where are you going? "Nowhere." But it is not an emptiness, it is a fullness. It is going to a place that does not matter because there, finally, you are well. It was a word I felt deeply mine, almost fragile. I was afraid of losing it by naming it after the restaurant. Instead, in this way, I cherished and enhanced it. The name then becomes a declaration of intent: Indiniò is not an address, but a state of mind. A mental place before being physical, where cooking becomes a listening experience.
If you had to describe Chef Gloria today, away from the label of 'former MasterChef contestant', how would you describe her?
I am a shy person, and with time a little more solitary. I am better in the woods, in the meadows, surrounded by nature, than in front of a screen. I have never liked being in front of a lens, whether it was a camera or a camera, but facing it was necessary, a passage of growth.
Today I feel more aware, with a clear idea: to bring to the plate what is in my heart, my territory. I do it shyly, on tiptoe, letting the dishes speak for me. A cuisine that does not seek the limelight, but the truth. That prefers consistency to clamour.
Is there an ingredient that you feel is particularly yours, because it tells your personal story?
Hay. It brings with it memories, seasons, images. In venison with hay we toast the hay and leave it to steep for five days in a syrup of water and sugar, resulting in a lacquer. Using a Korean technique, we make the venison base, from which a toffee is made that becomes the sauce of the dish. Everything revolves around balance and precise cooking of the meat.
When it comes to 'sustainable cooking', what does it mean to you?
For Indinio, sustainability is not a label, but a daily gesture. It is research, harvesting, respect and conservation. It is the simplest and most necessary way we can take care of the future. Every choice, from the ingredient to the technique, stems from this responsibility. It is not an abstract concept, it is a concrete practice, made up of time, attention and measure.
In your philosophy, ancient gestures and contemporary technique coexist. How do you balance memory without turning it into nostalgia?
Techniques are never an end in themselves, but tools. They serve to restore the essence of an ingredient, not to disguise it. With a beet, for example, we work on several textures: we flake it, recompose it, cook it at a low temperature to preserve its sweetness and structure. From the waste comes a base, then a ketchup with homemade apple vinegar and a glaze obtained by drying. The dish closes with a kren sauce and a parsley oil. It is a work of patience, made up of small gestures.
Has being a female chef ever been a limitation in your journey?
I have never felt the weight of being a woman in the kitchen, perhaps because I have always felt a bit of a tomboy. But my feminine side inevitably emerges in the dishes: in the delicacy, the elegance, the details. That's where I really recognise myself.
If a guest arrived at Indinio without knowing anything about you, what would you want him to understand about Gloria after eating?
I would like you to perceive the deep love I have for cooking and for my territory. I have already had someone say to me: 'You have taken us on a journey by sitting at the table'. And that is exactly the journey I would like to offer. An experience that does not come through explanation, but through feeling.
If you had to describe your cuisine starting with one dish, which one would you choose?
The sweet with wild garlic. A dish that is only apparently simple, but on the palate tells of a delicate complexity. It starts with the harvesting of the bear garlic, from which an ice cream and a cream are made. The garlic from Resia is processed for 40 days until it becomes black garlic: one part goes into cream and sauce, one is dried, another made into flower-shaped wafers.
The dish ends with a mock tarragon caviar and 18-year-old Midolini balsamic vinegar. That's where I really feel like telling my story.
The restaurant was born on the edge of the forest, not in a gastronomic city. What does this distance from fashion and urban centres give to the dishes?
If Indino had been born in the city, I would have felt out of place myself. Here there is silence, there is time, there is home. Far from the daily hustle and bustle, you can slow down and listen. Eating in Raveo is different: the land is not just on your plate, but in the air, the sounds, the light. It is an experience that asks you to stop, if only for a few hours.
Vegetables, wild herbs, roots are central to Indiniò's dishes. Is it an ethical, cultural or instinctive choice?
Until the age of 23 I did not eat vegetables. Growing up I realised that vegetable is what we really need. Vegetable is territory, it is root, it is already sustainability. It allows enormous creative freedom. This does not exclude meat, which still plays an important role in our cuisine, but vegetable remains the centre of the story.
Your cuisine is often described as 'mountain'. If you had to describe it with one image, which one would you choose? My kitchen is like a larch tree on top of a mountain, in front of a sunset. A tree that always points upwards, but which changes with the seasons, which is not always straight, which bears the marks of time. It tells of what it has gone through to reach the light.
At Indiniò, amidst woods, roots and seasons, Gloria Clama's cooking becomes more than a meal: it is a dialogue with nature, a journey through the flavours of Carnia and the poetry of the culinary gesture. Here, every dish tells a story, every ingredient carries with it memory and future.
English 
Italian