I’d call it unconventional Italian cuisine: A conversation with Head Chef / Owner Francesco Sarvonio, Casa Felicia
- James Massoud
- 3 minutes ago
- 4 min read
At just 26, Francesco Sarvonio is emerging as one of London’s most compelling young chefs. Born and raised in Naples, and now chef-patron of Casa Felicia, Sarvonio is part of a new generation redefining Italian cooking in the capital – one built around clarity, restraint and ingredient-led precision rather than nostalgia or performance. Since opening in Queen’s Park in October 2025, Casa Felicia has quickly become a neighbourhood destination, celebrated for its semolina and water pastas, dry-aged fish and quietly confident southern Italian soul.
In this exclusive interview with The Knife, Sarvonio reflects on heritage, simplicity, and why the most powerful cooking often speaks the softest.
You opened Casa Felicia at just 26. When diners sit down, what do you hope they immediately understand about who you are as a chef?
I hope they feel that this is a place made with care. Casa Felicia isn’t about showing off technique, it’s about honesty, warmth, and generosity. I want people to feel comfortable, welcomed, and understood from the first bite.
Neapolitan cooking is often associated with warmth, generosity, and tradition. How do you translate that emotional identity into a modern London dining room without leaning on cliché?
For me, it’s about restraint. The warmth comes from the food, the service, the rhythm of the room; not from obvious references or nostalgia. I try to let the spirit of Naples exist quietly, without shouting.
Many chefs speak about "simplicity", but achieving it on the plate is deceptively complex. What does simplicity mean in your cooking, and where do you draw the line between simple and simplistic?
Simplicity is clarity. It’s knowing exactly why an ingredient is on the plate and when to stop. The hardest part is removing things, trusting that what remains is enough.
You’ve worked in kitchens across Europe, from Giacco’s to Early June in Paris. What did each of those environments teach you that now shows up on the menu at Casa Felicia?
Every kitchen taught me something different: discipline, instinct, respect for produce. Casa Felicia is where all those experiences finally meet, filtered through my own personality and my roots.
Can you talk about a specific ingredient or supplier relationship that fundamentally helped shape the restaurant’s direction?
Semolina and water. That combination says everything about where I come from. It’s humble, demanding and unforgiving, and when done right, incredibly expressive.
Dry-aged fish has become one of the signatures of the new wave of Italian cooking in London. What excites you about ageing fish in an Italian context, and how do you ensure the technique enhances rather than distracts from the ingredient?
It excites me because it enhances flavour rather than masking it. In Italy, we’ve always respected fish deeply; ageing is just another way of listening to the ingredient instead of controlling it.
Especially after my experience at Da Lucio, things changed a lot in my perspective.
London is having a moment with contemporary Italian cuisine. Where do you see Casa Felicia sitting within this new movement, and what do you think defines this generation of Italian chefs here?
I think we’re part of a generation that isn’t trying to recreate Italy, but to interpret it honestly. Less performance, more identity. I’d call it unconventional Italian cuisine.
Neighbourhood restaurants can be the hardest to get right. How did Queen’s Park influence the concept, and what role do you think Casa Felicia plays in the area’s rise as a dining destination?
I wanted a neighbourhood that feels lived-in. Casa Felicia is meant to grow with its community, not sit apart from it.
Naples has such a strong food heritage. Is there a dish, flavour memory or ritual from home that you’re still trying to perfect or reinterpret at Casa Felicia?
Sunday lunch made by my grandma Felicia. Not a specific dish – the feeling. Time slowing down, food at the centre, people around the table.
At 26, you’re leading your own kitchen and shaping a distinct culinary identity. What pressures or expectations feel most present at this stage of your career, and which ones have you decided to ignore?
I try not to rush. There’s pressure to grow fast, to be loud. I’d rather build something solid and personal. Honestly, it’s a privilege not to feel pressure.
Your pastas, especially the semolina and water shapes, are already becoming recognisable signatures. What draws you to these southern Italian techniques, and how do you evolve them without losing their soul?
They’re direct and physical. You feel them in your hands. Evolving them means changing gently, without losing their soul.
Looking ahead, what does success look like for Casa Felicia? Is it about accolades, creative evolution, community, or something more personal?
If people come back, feel at home, and trust us – that’s success. Everything else is secondary.Â




