The Human Factor

Empathy, listening, conviviality.

No dish can truly exist without them.
Because food is all these things.
Stripped of its purpose and thrown onto a judge’s table or into the glossy galleries of social media, food simply — dies.

A Question of Humanity

Today’s reflection starts from a series of interviews published on Identità Golose,
the international culinary magazine that recently explored “The Human Factor.”

This topic resonates deeply with Kitchen Wishes,
because it embodies everything we’ve been writing, cooking, and questioning for years
in our column “The Recipe That Doesn’t Exist.”

At the core of our journey —
one we proudly consider in step with the times —
is the conviction that there is no such thing as a perfect recipe.

Nothing can exist apart from the alchemy between those who create it and those who experience it —
between the chosen ingredients, the setting, the moment, and the people gathered around the table.

Those who know us already know: this has always been the cornerstone of Kitchen Wishes.
A dish is neither beautiful nor good “in itself.”
It must breathe, adapt, and live in the moment —
it must resemble the person who will enjoy it.

In Search of Exquisite Moments

More and more, people today are seeking experiences that reflect who they are —
not ready-made products to consume passively.

We are here to listen to their stories, their lives,
and to transform each occasion into a different experience —
or, as we like to say, into an exquisite moment.

No prefab menus, no universal formulas:
every place has its own rhythm, its own personality,
and these inevitably change how each dish is perceived.

Identità Golose has yet to apply these reflections to the world of catering,
but we, small experimenters that we are,
can only be proud to see our principles recognized by others at last.

Because we’ve been saying it for years:
in the age of selfies and appearances,
where every dish is photographed before it’s even tasted,
the rule remains the same —
it’s not photogenic beauty, but flavor and context that make the difference.

The Table Is Not a Reality Show

A dish cannot live a life of its own
when dissected by a panel of reality-show judges,
detached from the social experience it’s meant to inspire —
deaf to the sounds, laughter, and aromas of the place it belongs to.

The result is a flood of dishes that imitate foreign cultures
or mimic Michelin-starred menus without remembering why they were born.

It’s like a piece of clothing that “goes with everything” —
in trying to fit all contexts, it loses its soul before it even leaves the kitchen.

Creativity today is often paralyzed by the fear of judgment —
by those who, online or “in the right circles,”
are ready to destroy anyone who dares to stand out.

Every Dish Has a Story

One example from Identità Golose struck us deeply:

“Think about it: a few years ago, ceviche was practically unknown.
Now it appears on menus everywhere.
It makes sense — but only if we take the time to understand
the culture and knowledge behind the signature dish of Peruvian cuisine.
How many actually do that?”

Every dish has a story, a geography, a journey.
It only makes sense as part of the culture that created it.

Taste cannot exist without knowledge of the ingredients,
respect for those who invented and preserved it,
and awareness of the context in which it was born.

In two words: the Human Factor.

Serving ceviche to people who know nothing of its history may bring quick success —
a trend, easy applause —
but it’s not for us.
We cook for those who want to close their eyes and discover entire worlds through taste.

The Human Factor, Expanded

But that’s not all.
The Human Factor is essential in countless ways.

Far from glorifying the chef-as-deity,
true cuisine depends on a complex balance between creative genius and everything around it —
the kitchen and floor staff, relationships with suppliers,
empathy with clients, and deep knowledge of ingredients and their history.

These are precisely the things the digital world —
for all its wonders — can’t offer:
direct, human connection.
Face-to-face encounters with the team, the client, the farmer, the fisherman, the grocer.
Touching, smelling, feeling the ingredients.

At the end of the day, what we’ve been saying for years is this:
the focus should never be just the dish — but the experience around it.
The laughter, the conversations, the exchange between people who meet through food.

No Chef Is an Island

Maybe someday we’ll be able to do almost everything online.
But we’re sure that sharing a meal among friends will always remain part of that “almost.”

Human connection will always pass through a table,
as it did two thousand years ago.

Through the friendships between chefs and farmers, fishmongers, and artisans
who make each restaurant a living, unique experience —
one that can perhaps be imitated, but never truly replicated.

Through teams built on respect,
where every role matters and no one plays god.
No restaurant can exist without its chef’s talent,
but no chef can thrive as an island —
blind to the people who help turn each dinner, each evening,
into something worth living.

The Flag of Empathy

Finally, we were struck by Identità Golose’s reflection on multisensoriality:

“Cuisine must be an emotional choreography —
a sensory play that lingers in memory.
It should express bodily, technical, existential, and musical intelligence,
creating full harmony between guest, kitchen, and dining room.”

We couldn’t agree more.

In a word — always, and still — empathy.

Listening is the only thing that makes sense in a world
where no one truly listens anymore,
where everyone shouts their own truth, desperate to be seen.

Listening, in 2018, is revolutionary.
And we’re proud to have raised that word as our banner for years —

our banner, the banner of Kitchen Wishes.

Stay tuned for the next chapter of “The Recipe That Doesn’t Exist.”