Bal Harbour

IN THE KITCHEN AT Le Sirenuse Miami, while the prep cooks set up the mise en place for the dinner rush, Antonio Mermolia is making me spaghettone pomodoro e basilico. As he moves fluidly around the stove burner, stirring this with tongs and ladling that, he displays the spaghetti he will use: the finest dried Pasta di Gragnano, a PGI (Protected Geographical Indication) product that's generated from high-protein wheat near Puglia. He demonstrates its coarse exterior, the bend from where it hangs on rods to slowly dry in both mountain and coastal breezes at 122 degrees Fahrenheit. is is important, he says, because when you're eating dried pasta, you need to first taste the pasta. You can't hide behind a filling, as you can with fresh ravioli, or pretend it's simply a vehicle for sauce. Next, he discusses that sauce. e three different kinds of tomatoes that go into it, all with different levels of sweetness and acidity—vine-ripe, cherry and San Marzano. e verdant basil that is popped in and pulled out like needlepoint. e additions of olive oil and starchy pasta water to temper any tartness. In Italy, pomodoro sauce, he tells me, is the equivalent of mole in Mexico. "Everybody has one. Everyone's mama, everyone's grandma. It is challenging to present it because it truly represents southern Italy. But no one in high gastronomy cooks it," he smiles. Which is precisely why he presents it à la minute (made to order) as one of his signature dishes, spooled like thread around a spindle in the middle of a plate. It is simple, and it is simply wonderful, the spaghetti a delightful rough chew between the teeth, glistening with richly distilled tomato sauce that has a creamy texture, although there is no cream in it. Southern Italy is proud to know Antonio Mermolia. Of course, it knew him already. e chef de cuisine has a storied background and an impressive resume: He was originally tapped to play in Italy's national basketball league. Eventually, he chose instead to work in hospitality and gastronomy. Rising from server to chef at his family's business, the historic Hotel Villa Calliope, he left to apprentice with the renowned Pietro D'Agostino at La Capinera in Sicily. His culinary journey took him to Manhattan in 2012, where he caught critics' eyes at IL Punto. In 2014, he moved to Mulino a Vino and then, a year later, the opportunity to open a southern Italian restaurant, Capatosta, presented itself. But fate, in the form of his father's illness, would bring him back to southern Italy for real, and he didn't know if he would ever return to the States. "As much as we make plans," he says, "somebody is already making plans for us." Leaving himself open to possibility turned out to be Mermolia's best decision. While he was tending to his family business, he received a call. Antonio Sersale, owner of Le Sirenuse hotel and the Michelin-starred La Sponda restaurant, had heard about him, and wanted to meet. Mermolia took a boat from Salerno to Positano, and wound up in Miami the next year to debut Le Sirenuse in e Surf Club. ough he now only plays basketball for leisure and exercise, there's no question that his athletic past informs his epicurean present. e same way that a basketball player makes a foul shot sink as if he were tossing a paper cup into a garbage can, Mermolia cooks with all kinds of structure and technique. Still, he says, "You don't need to see my effort. You don't need to see the pain." In other words, the fare at Le Sirenuse Miami—whether it's Mermolia's la caprese calda, which he elevates by warming it, or as distinct as the green salad that he serves in a molded bowl of ice with lemon sorbet dressing—is going to appear effortlessly put together. Mermolia, who is not shy but humble, would rather have the attention be on the food than on himself. He says that the plates represent him, connect him to his guests and speak for him. Clearly, we are listening. Indeed, we keep coming back for more of this unpretentious, masterful conversation. 134 BAL HARBOUR

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