Consorzio, Turin restaurant review: "Fergus Henderson's doppelgänger is an Italian woman."
Consorzio tastes bold and edifying in modern times, making light work of unsexy, overlooked cuts. The squeamish will still eat well, and eat you should.
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In a remarkable act of kindness, my wife enrolled me in a butchery course at the Ginger Pig, putting in motion the grizzly business of dismembering an entire lamb.
If you ever find love with someone of such scrupulous taste, never let them go.
I learned a lot about knives, joints and butchering that day. The sheer physicality of tearing a beast apart. The pungent smell of chilled fat on a carcass slowly coming to temp. It is not for the faint of heart, nor should it be.
Us Caribbean folks are well aware that “offcuts” are not only staples; they are the best bits, capable of the kind of depth and complexity that a tenderloin will never know.
This course occurred six years after the publication of Fergus Henderson's seminal texts, Nose to Tail and Beyond Nose to Tail. I have both at home. Fergus resurrected excitement in offcuts and offal that endures today. He is one of the top three most influential chefs in my lifetime, alongside the Adrià bros and René Redzepi, in my opinion.
“Fergus Henderson would rub his thighs with giddy appreciation for what Chef Valentina Chiaramonte does here.”
Consorzio’s decor seems intentionally rebellious
Consorzio is cool and questionably fashionable even before we walk through the door. Outside projects drama school or a punk club. A faded, blushing paint job and a door littered with awards stickers. You know the ones.
A window is blocked by a “Combat” poster of a Keith Haring-style Joan of Arc wielding a fork and a wine glass, with one boob out (my kinda lady).
Consorzio’s interior is more humble. A poky front room precedes a larger dining space complete with a small bar. Chalkboards tease a regional wine list.
It marginally warmer than utilitarian. Bistro tables clad in a pink picnic stripe and what I’ll charitably call an art installation of possibly a Gorgonzola cross section. The unfussy, larger back room resembles a local working man’s club.
Here, Chef Valentina Chiaramonte focuses more on the plate and less on decor—unlike, well, name a new opening in Dubai.
Consorzio’s whole animal ethos
Consorzio’s menu is the sort of coronary-inducing, cholesterol-cladded good time that appeals to me but not everyone. A quick scamper down Consorzio’s 20-item menu pops with fried anchovies, ox bone marrow with cod and Swiss chard or salted tongue with red prune sauce.
There is ravioli with offal, tajarin—an ultra-eggy, fine tagliolini indigenous to Piemonte—with lamb tripe and brown stock, a Porterhouse Steak and “head of ox, in broth”.
Fergus Henderson would rub his thighs with a giddy appreciation for what Chef Valentina Chiaramonte does here. Consorzio feels cut from his bolt of tripe with a delightfully Italian accent.
The menu is not all beauty with beasts, so vegetarians and the squeamish will find solace. My wife’s sprightly prickly pear ceviche is a bright pop of colour on a winter’s day, singing with zip, crunch, and fragrant fresh mint and coriander. Her mountain gnocchi resembles Spatzlan or ttekbokki rolled in a duvet coating of Toma cheese, the warm crunch of local hazelnuts and gently cooked leeks.
Dad orders the agnolotti gobbi, vivid yellow from the egg yolks. Ravioli is a broad house of stuffed pasta, but agnolotti gobbi are the squared puffed, pillow-like parcels best known abroad. The elastic, butter-lacquered pasta lyses with slow-cooked meat. It’s all washed down with what may have been the best Langhe Nebbiolo we drank all week—and we drank *many*.
My wholemeal tagliatelle in beef heart ragout is one of the tastiest things I ate in 2024: cheesy, buttery and bouncy pasta with a rich, hearty ragu—literally hearty. It’s a masterclass in doing a few things well. I send a heart-shaped love letter traced in the sauce back to the kitchen.
Consorzio’s desserts waver, but we do find favourites: a hazelnut cake with zabaglione foam wins for spoon-licking pudding joy; a duo of chocolate and hazelnut creams dusted with dried capers vies for our admiration and the panna cotta meets the brief but cannot dislodge Petricore Enoteca’s reign.
Consorzio, Would I Return?
Undoubtedly. Turin also needs a good long weekend exploring.
Consorzio, Who Should Come?
The menu is well-crafted to satisfy most but those who enjoy the gamey, offal offerings will be most rewarded.
Consorzio, How Much Was It?
Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can follow Liam here on Substack, Instagram, Threads or BlueSky.
Consorzio, Via Monte di Pietà, 23, 10122 Torino, Italy. Visit Consorzio’s Instagram for more.
Living vicariously and joyfully through your food-writing on this cold January day! And got me wanting to book a table at St John’s, only that it’s a cheaper and quicker visit than a plane to Italy…
I looove Consorzio. Both times I ordered the Quinto Quarto assortment it contained grilled cow vagina. Delicious, fatty, reminded me of pork neck. The tripe "tajarin" is incredible too.