Chef Ciccio Sultano: Sicilian Dominations

In the UNESCO World Heritage town of Ragusa, world-acclaimed Chef Ciccio Sultano has transformed Sicilian cuisine at his two - Michelin-starred Duomo Ristorante. Since opening in 2000, Duomo has become a landmark destination celebrating the island's rich gastronomic heritage through innovative presentations that honour Sicily's multilayered history.

By GIOVANNA G. BONOMO

June 2025

Converting a modest seafood spot into his vision of haute Sicilian cuisine, didn't come with great applause or fanfare. Even his closest allies doubted him. The location seemed destined for obscurity—a cramped vietta (alley) in a town then dismissed as a provincial backwater, where visitors were rare and parking nonexistent. Critics called him reckless; friends questioned his sanity. But Sultano, a chef with the soul of a poet and the stubbornness of a Sicilian farmer, saw potential where others saw impossibility.

Sultano’s early years were a masterclass in perseverance. Partnering with Angelo Di Stefano, he poured his savings into Duomo, betting that Ragusa Ibla’s baroque grandeur could anchor a dining experience as rich as Sicily’s history. The menu was a gamble—a combination of tradition and avant-garde techniques that baffled locals. His now-legendary spaghetto with bottarga, anchovy tartare, and carrot juice, a dish that danced between land and sea, was met with confusion. “People thought I’d lost my mind,” Sultano recalls. Yet, slowly, curiosity turned to admiration.

The turning point came in 2004, when Michelin awarded Duomo its first star. By 2006, a second followed, silencing skeptics and catapulting Sultano onto the global stage. International press flocked to Ragusa, drawn by his audacious reinvention of Sicilian cuisine. Publications like The New York Times and Condé Nast Traveller hailed him as a visionary, their praise arriving even before Michelin’s accolades. Stefano Polacchi of Gambero Rosso and Michelin’s Roberto Restelli became early champions, the latter comparing Sultano to a “Renaissance cook.”

Today, Ristorante Duomo is a temple of Sicilian identity. The dining room, bathed in natural light, exudes understated luxury: cream walls, mid-blue leather banquettes, and tables spaced for intimacy. Here, Sultano’s dishes are more than meals—they’re edible narratives. His “Sicilian Dominations” menu traces the island’s history through ingredients and techniques left by Greeks, Arabs, Normans, and Spaniards. A single plate might marry Ustica lentils, Nebrodi black pork, and Hyblaean olive oil. Ciccio Sultano didn’t just build a restaurant—he resurrected a culture where artisanal cuisine meets heritage.

Sultano’s reverence for and recognition of Sicily’s bounty created his position of power. He elevated obscure ingredients—DOP Ragusano cheese, Polizzi’s “badda” beans, Girgentana goat cheese—into stars, proving that luxury need not rely on imports. His cuisine is a dialogue between past and present, where ancient recipes meet modernist flair. This philosophy birthed his first book, Dominazioni Siciliane, a culinary atlas that declares Sicily’s gastronomy as the heartbeat of Mediterranean culture.

Success bred ambition. In 2015, Sultano launched I Banchi, a casual dining spot reimagining Sicily’s rustic counters with artisanal bread as its muse. Three years later, he crossed borders, opening Pastamara at Vienna’s Ritz Carlton, introducing Austrian palates to “pasta amara”—a bitter cocoa-infused delicacy. By 2019, Cantieri Sultano emerged next to Duomo, a laboratory for innovation hosting masterclasses and experimental dinners. The empire grew further with Rome’s Giano in 2021, blending Italian tradition with global flair, and a second I Banchi at Palermo Airport in 2023, ensuring travellers taste Sicily before takeoff.

No one is an island. Behind every great chef is a greater team. For Sultano, that anchor is Gabriella Cicero. A polyglot with roots in Ragusa, Cicero joined Duomo in 2009, rising from front-of-house prodigy to Director of Operations. Their partnership—both professional and personal—fuels the Sultano Group’s success. “We divide roles wisely,” Sultano notes. “Respect and collaboration built this.” Cicero’s elegance and operational brilliance complement his creativity, ensuring their ventures run with seamless precision.

Ciccio Sultano’s journey transcends Michelin stars and accolades. He has redefined Sicilian cuisine not as a relic of conquests, but as a living, evolving art form. His dishes—steeped in history yet daringly modern—capture the island’s soul: its rugged landscapes, its layered history, its boundless generosity. In a world chasing homogenization, Sultano’s work is a defiant love letter to place. As diners savour his spaghetto or sip Nero d’Avola in Duomo’s sunlit rooms, they taste more than food. They taste the triumph of a man who turned doubt into destiny, turning a forgotten alley into a window into Sicilian glory.

When you revisit memories of your childhood kitchen in Sicily, which smell or taste evokes the strongest emotional response?

CICCIO SULTANO: The scent of paper wrapped around warm, freshly baked bread, and naturally, the bread itself—homemade, crispy on the outside and soft inside. Then there’s the taste of that same bread, three or four days old, dunked in coffee and milk in the morning. My culinary memories are what I offer daily to guests. If I make bread gelato, it’s because bread is like an ancestor to me, a being I converse with. It’s that ancient, Homeric gesture that defines us Mediterraneans as "bread-eaters."

What legacy do you hope to leave for the next generation of  Sicilian chefs?

C.S: Without presumption, we are already a legacy.  Twenty-five years in hospitality have spawned countless imitators. It delights me—copying is their way of... showing love.

How has your relationship with your Sicilian identity evolved during your career, especially

while working abroad?

C.S: Working abroad is important, but Sicily—with its 3,000 years of history and influences—is already "abroad," a continental island. Sicilian cuisine is inherently international, shaped by countless influences. A Sicilian can travel the world without leaving the island’s borders.

You speak of the "generosity of the Sicilian spirit" as something you missed while away. How does this spirit shape your personal approach to hospitality?

C.S: Sicilians are generous, though they

test you first. Hospitality is an ancient tradition here. Those in my line of work have the soul of a host—working for the guest’s well-being, educated and open to the world. I always start with more, not less.

When you decided to return to Ragusa instead of staying in New York, was there a specific moment or realization that clarified this choice?

C.S: I returned because when you have a family, you’re no longer responsible only for yourself. Sometimes we write our destiny; other times, it’s already written. In my case, given how things turned out, I have no regrets.

When cooking just for yourself at home, what do you make?

C.S: Simple, wholesome dishes: soups, vegetables, white meats, and loads of blue fish. I’m a devout follower of the Mediterranean diet.

Beyond technique, what personal lesson from your seven-year pastry apprenticeship has stayed with you for life?

C.S: Technique is an ever-evolving tool to master. It serves the content, not as a stylistic exercise. To express something meaningful, you must add humanity, emotion, and joy to technique. The pastry shop where I worked as a teen taught me the absolute truth of the ant’s economy: stay small and determined, work hard without waste, take one step at a time—happy and stubborn.

Was there a moment early in your career when you doubted your path as a chef, and what helped you overcome that uncertainty?

C.S: I never doubted that being a cook was my calling, though I often faced commercial and strategic uncertainties—deciding what to do and where to go. Every day, you must align the roles of chef and entrepreneur while respecting your team and the world around you. When it gets too overwhelming, I kneel and pray to the Madonna and Him (pointing upwards).