Marco’s Voice
I’ll tell you something I’ve learned after a lifetime in kitchens, from Ladispoli to Napa: sometimes the simplest things carry the deepest magic. This salad is one of them. I call it The Ruby, not because of its color alone, but because it reminds me how ordinary ingredients can rise into something shining when treated with a little care and a little soul.
Beets have followed me my whole life—humble, earthy, stubborn little roots that refuse to pretend they’re anything but themselves. In ancient times, people believed they stirred the blood and warmed the heart. The Romans even whispered about their… other abilities, but we’ll leave that for a different recipe. What matters is this: beets symbolize vitality, revival, and courage. That’s why they’re at the center of this dish.
Then there’s the goat cheese—soft, tangy, and older than civilization itself. Every time I whip it into a silky cloud, I feel I’m working with something that carries a bit of history in it. Two ingredients from opposite ends of the earth—roots from the Mediterranean, milk from the earliest herders—meeting on a modern plate. That’s the kind of harmony I live for.
And just when the dish thinks it’s done, in come the walnuts. A little honey, a little heat, and suddenly they become golden jewels with a crunch that makes the whole salad sing. It’s an old trick from the confectioners of the Middle East—simple ingredients transformed into luxury with a flick of sweetness and fire.
The final touch, the flourish I never skip, is the balsamic-rose drizzle. Balsamic from Modena, the pride of my region, married with the perfume of rose water—an unexpected combination that somehow tastes like renewal itself. When it kisses the warm beets and the cool goat cheese, everything settles into balance.
And if you’ve ever cooked with me, you know: presentation is not decoration. It’s storytelling. The red and golden beets shine like gems. The goat cheese rests like a small white cloud. The arugula and micro basil add that peppery snap that wakes the senses. Then the rose petals, the pink pepper, the Maldon crystals—each one a finishing whisper that says: don’t rush; savor this moment.
In the end, The Ruby Salad isn’t about beets or cheese or walnuts. It’s about transformation—the alchemy that turns everyday ingredients into something that nourishes more than the body. Renewal you can taste. Beauty you can hold. A small reminder that even the simplest things can become extraordinary when touched with intention.
That, to me, is magic.