In defense of Diego Rossi di Trippa (and his antipathy)

Let's get things straight. What caused a stir was the decision to remove his legendary veal with tuna sauce and tagliatelle with butter and parmesan from the menu. The haters of this new contemporary divinity, the chefs, immediately arrived. They railed against Rossi's pretentiousness and in favor of the inalienable right of customers to do as they please. Perhaps the person condemning Rossi is the same person who not long ago penned fiery editorials against customers who bombard their dishes with photos and turn a dinner into a show for Instagram or TikTok.

The fact is, many have broadened their focus. They're challenging a restaurant model that's often identified with Milan, but which in reality isn't so different in Rome. The decision to require a credit card as a guarantee to combat the unfortunate phenomenon of no-shows has been challenged. The decision to close on Saturdays and Sundays has also been challenged. And the division of the evening into time slots, which forces guests to leave after 120 minutes, or two hours, from the start (the first starts at 7:15 PM, the second at 9:15 PM until closing time). The five-minute time limit for reservations, otherwise you lose your spot, is also contested.

In short, it's a rigid restaurant model, with controversial rules that risk diminishing the spontaneity and pleasure of dining. Is that true? Let's just say that some rules are sacrosanct, like credit cards; others are annoying, like double shifts.

But there's something quite banal and largely ignored these days. Diego Rossi can do exactly what he wants. The reason he decided to remove the dishes isn't that he hates customers and wants to "educate" them, as someone said. It's that he's tired of seeing the same dishes ordered over and over again, following a social media trend. Did he also contribute to creating it? Sure, all businesses try to succeed and find a way to connect with customers. But then, after a while, it's legitimate for a chef to want to change. To find new inspiration.

But what exactly did Rossi say? Here's the incriminating sentence.

I'm tired of seeing customers come just to post photos of my most famous dishes. We live with our own little heads, not those of others. Two customers came into Trippa to eat the tagliatelle they'd seen dozens of times on social media. That dish was sold out. They enjoyed the rest of the dinner, but the disappointment remained. There I understood something: Instagram doesn't just influence what we choose. It influences how we experience an experience, even before we've had it.

What does he say, then? That he's irritated by this social media following, following the latest trends (don't you?). That he's irritated by the fact that people come not because they like the dishes he makes, but because they want to take photos and say: "I was there." You might say: the customer does what he wants. Absolutely true. So we can safely say that the chef, or the owner-chef, also does exactly what he wants. If he decides to have a certain type of clientele, more interested in experimenting with new dishes than replicating the cloying social media show, that's his choice.

So, this is the starting point. If Diego Rossi wants to make cacio e pepe or pineapple pizza, that's his business. If he decides to use a credit card to combat the unfortunate phenomenon of no-shows, he's not the first and he won't be the last. In fact, he's pretty late. If he decides to close Saturday and Sunday, who are we to tell him no, he shouldn't?

That said, customers will choose whether to abandon Trippa, disappointed by the lack of their signature dishes, or try something new. They'll decide whether to commit to a free guarantee card, or go somewhere with no strings attached (perhaps even abandoning it without warning if they find something better). The customer isn't always right in a restaurant, but they're always right in theory: whether it works or not is their business, and no one can blame them for anything.

To conclude this somewhat ridiculous controversy, we can discuss Rossi's charm and the appropriateness of this mediatic choice. We can decide to go to other, less popular and less successful restaurants, with fewer rules and more flexibility. There are plenty of them, and many of those commenting on Trippa now have never been there and never tasted their tagliatelle, for the simple reason that finding a table is always a challenge. Trippa is not just any restaurant; it's the prototype of a contemporary trattoria that, rightly or wrongly, has become a success story, which it must manage with some difficulty.

So, let's go in peace and make the tagliatelle with butter and parmesan at home, they'll turn out pretty well anyway.