There are journeys that begin without suitcases. Journeys that begin long before they actually leave. Journeys that wait behind a door. For Jessica Rosval that door was the kitchen: a place that since then has smelled not only of food, but of stories.
Jessica took her first steps in the restaurant business working as a hostess in an Italian-American restaurant in the neighbourhood where she grew up, in Montréal. Her place was at the entrance: welcoming guests, escorting them to their table, smiling. But whenever she could she slipped behind the kitchen door, drawn to that noisy, living world where pots clinked, bread came out hot from the oven and people worked together with an almost contagious energy. She stole bread tips, watched the cooks, joked with the dishwasher. He did not yet know that that would become his path. She did know, however, that there was something going on in there that made her feel she was in the right place. From then on her journey really started and the kitchen never left her.
The journey took her far from Canada to Modenawhere in 2013 she joined the brigade of theOsteria Francescana. Here he met and embraced the vision of Massimo Bottura and Lara Gilmorebecoming part of the Franciscan Familya creative universe in which cuisine, culture and social responsibility are constantly intertwined. First in the brigade, then in international event management and finally at the culinary helm of Maria Luigia HouseJessica's journey has grown within this fertile environment, where food is not just technique or gastronomic perfection. It is a language. A way of looking at the world. It is concrete proof that a dish can narrate culture, memory, identity.
Today he is at the helm of At the Green Cat, the restaurant in the park of Casa Maria Luigia that has been awarded a Michelin star and a green star for sustainability, becoming one of the most significant gastronomic projects of the Francescana Family. But for Jessica Rosval, the kitchen is never just a dish. It is a human place. A space where people can meet, grow and sometimes change their ways. Thus, in 2021 she co-founded theAssociation for the Integration of Women and the following year opens Roots, a restaurant and training centre designed to offer concrete opportunities to women from migrant and often fragile backgrounds.
Journey, memory, responsibility, passion, integration: these are the words that run through his story.
The Interview
Your training between Canada and Italy: what did it mean to cross two gastronomic cultures? It has meant understanding the power of food to transport us. Cooking, serving, sharing... it is like speaking a language that everyone understands, even when they do not share the same words. When I arrived in Modena I didn't know anyone and I didn't speak the language. It was the kitchen that made me feel at home. In the gesture of rolling the pasta with the rezdore of Modena, in the smell of the broth, in the rhythm of the service with the cooks, I found a family. The Modena tradition welcomed me right away. I realised that food is not just nourishment, it is feeling part of something.
What do you retain from your origins and what have you transformed? I don't think we really choose what to keep and what to change. If you travel with an open heart, you let places and people pass through you. They transform you. I am proudly Canadian: I bring with me openness, curiosity, a certain freedom to think outside the box. But living in Italy I learnt the depth of roots, the sacred respect for the ingredient and for those who cultivate it. Today I feel less 'of a place' and more responsible to all the places that have shaped me. I am a Canadian in Italy, but even more a citizen of the world.
Was there a precise moment when you realised that cooking would be your language? Yes, but it was not a dish. It was a place. I had my first job as a hostess at an Italian-American restaurant in my neighbourhood. I was supposed to stand at the entrance and greet the guests. Instead I was always getting into trouble because I was running to the kitchen. I would eat bread tips, watch the cooks, joke with the dishwasher. There was energy in there: hectic, chaotic, but at the same time tidy and beautiful. Even before I fell in love with the recipes, I fell in love with the kitchen as a human space. The recipes came later.
What has working alongside one of the world's most influential chefs taught you? With Massimo Bottura I learnt many things, but two have become an integral part of me. The first week at the Osteria Francescana he put a book in my hand: Futurist Cuisine. He told me to never stop studying, not only cooking, but also art, history, philosophy, culture. Explore the world, then bring it back to the plate. The second lesson is this: a chef is more than the sum of his recipes. Our craft has an enormous transformative power. This realisation was decisive when I co-founded Association for the Integration of Women and open Roots. Cooking can be beauty, but also a concrete tool for change.
How do you learn to keep your voice inside such an iconic kitchen? The voice is not just for speaking, but for dialogue. Half of the dialogue is expressing oneself, the other half is listening. In an iconic kitchen you learn humility. You understand that your identity does not have to shout in order to exist. It grows in confrontation, in exchange, in mutual trust. Strong teams are built by giving space to others. That is how your voice is not lost: it is strengthened in the chorus.
What is the most important legacy you carry with you? From my family I received a simple and powerful message: you can be anything, as long as you do it in the best possible way. They never put limits on me. They taught me responsibility, not fear.
For you, today, what role does cooking play in social transformation? The kitchen is a place of power. It decides who is seen, who is heard, who has access to opportunities. For me it is a space to give back. With Roots we have trained women from different migratory backgrounds, offering not only technique but language, labour rights, concrete tools to build autonomy. It is not charity. It is justice. It is human investment.
Female leadership: what does it really mean to lead a kitchen today? It means leading without imitating models that do not belong to us. For years, leadership in the kitchen was associated with toughness. Today I believe that strength and caring can coexist. Leading means creating a demanding but safe environment, where talent is not crushed by fear. True authority is not volume, it is consistency.
If you had to define your cuisine in three words? Rooted. Relational. Alive.
What is one dish that really represents you? Rose Moon is a charcoal semifreddo, dark and deep, traversed by the lively acidity of raspberry and the precise salinity of caviar. A syrup of sea water and rose binds everything, taking the dessert out of the reassuring territory of the dessert and into a more essential and contemplative dimension. Fire, sea, flower: three elements in tension that find balance in the same dish.
How important is personal memory in the construction of a menu? It matters a great deal. Memories take different forms: they are lived experiences, tastes that return, sensations that remain in the body even when we can no longer explain why. They are collective emotions, those we can share even though we have never met before.
What is your relationship with time outside the kitchen? I seek balance in well-being. I run. I exercise. I love the discipline of the body because it counterbalances the mental intensity of the kitchen. I am nourished by moments of silence, nature, a sauna followed by a cold plunge. Sleeping eight hours is a revolutionary act in this profession.
What nourishes you besides food? The journey. When I cannot do it physically, I travel in books. Stories are maps.
What kind of catering do you imagine in the next ten years? More conscious catering. Less obsessed with noise and more attentive to content. More sustainable indeed, not just avowedly so. I believe that the future will belong to those who know how to combine excellence and responsibility.
What would you say to 20-year-old Jessica today? In my twenties I wanted to travel non-stop, to live an endless adventure. I knew that food would be my compass. I would tell you: go on. The adventure is not over. And the most beautiful part of the journey is always tomorrow.
Listening to Jessica Rosval one gets the feeling that cooking is, first and foremost, a form of relationship: with the places we pass through, the people we meet, the stories that change us along the way. Many identities coexist in his journey: the open curiosity of Canada, the depth of Italian tradition, the energy of an international brigade, the social focus on those seeking an opportunity. All this translates into a cuisine that is never merely technical or aesthetic, but a shared experience. Perhaps this is where the deepest sense of his work and of the profession of a cook lies: reminding us that food is not just something that nourishes the body. It is a universal language capable of creating community, building a future and, at times, changing people's destinies.
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