Giorgio Alessio: The Piedmontese chef-patron on his Scarborough restaurant, TV chefs, and going solo in the kitchen

​Rave reviews, ecstatic celebrity fans, exhortations to move south: none distract chef Giorgio Alessio from dawn trips to his beloved Scarborough fish market

At the fish market (Gary Calton)

As the dawn sun catches the ripples in Scarborough Harbour, the chef-patron of the Lanterna restaurant joins a circle of Yorkshire fish merchants at the quayside auction. Every so often, a box meets his requirements and the Lanterna's card marks the purchase. “The fish is from day boats. It's so fresh compared with fish from trawlers that might have been out for a week or more,” explains Giorgio Alessio, who came to Scarborough from the northern Italian province of Piedmont in 1981. “It's nice coming down here on a morning like this, but come on a winter morning and see how you like it.”

Since taking over the Lanterna in 1997, Alessio has won plaudits that rivals would kill for. The Mail on Sunday recently declared, “I can't think of a more beautiful dinner”; The Daily Telegraph reviewer said it was the best meal he'd eaten all year. The Independent reviewer (me) settled for “Comfort food par excellence… heroic”. There are, however, a few obstacles for anyone wishing to copy his template. Even if they share his Piedmontese skill and ingenuity, do they happen to reside in a place endowed with the same cornucopia of surf and turf as the North Yorkshire coast? If so, are they prepared to attend a daily auction at 6.45am to purchase fish directly from the local harbour? Finally, could they cook a three-course meal from an extensive menu for 35 people a night without assistance at the stove?

This is not to say that Alessio is completely alone in the backstreet premises of Lanterna. His wife Rachel runs front-of-house and he has a part-time assistant to help with preparation. But during the ferocious demands of evening service, this maestro is a lone gun. On a Friday or Saturday night, he must resemble a whirling dervish in his small, maze-like kitchen.

Alessio at the fish market (Gary Calton)

While searing half-a-dozen beef cheeks for this evening's service, Alessio explains how k this singular dedication came about: “At first I cooked alone because I didn't have any money; then it became a preference. As soon as you have someone cooking alongside you, you lose precision.” His verbal flow is not disturbed by a billow of flame as he adds red wine to a pan of herbs and garlic bulbs sizzling in oil. “On quiet winter nights, it's quite easy, but it's hard when we're full. If everyone at a large table orders a different dish, I could eat them alive. I couldn't manage one more table beyond the 11 we have. Not one.”

The beef cheeks join the herbs and wine for an eight-hour braise in the oven and Alessio turns to his haul from the fish market. “I bought monkfish, ling, pollock and a dozen lobsters.” Slicing the monkfish tail into neat rectangles, he explains, “I flour then fry them in butter and pink peppercorns until the peppercorns go pop. Then I add a touch of stock and cream. The beauty of monk is not so much the taste as its firmness. Ling is deep-fried in a very fine batter – a cross between tempura and Yorkshire batter. No, I'm not telling you how it's made. Everyone blinking well wants to know.”

The lobsters steam gently in a basin after their boil. “People love lobster thermidor, so it's all that I do with them. Yes, the portion is a whole lobster. You're coming out for a meal, so I can't give you little bits of stuff. No, no, no. You get a lobster and that's it.” The same applies to turbot, which is simply fried for a main course. Again, you get a whole one to yourself.

Alessio's speech is an idiosyncratic hybrid of Piedmont and Yorkshire. “As soon as I came here, I loved it. I LOVED IT!” But there were some surprises. “In Italy, people are not bothered about their surroundings in a restaurant. The British are much more concerned about how a place is decorated. I was astonished to discover carpet in a pizza place. I found that every Italian restaurant was doing approximate Italian food. But in Italy, food is a central part of our culture. We don't do approximate.”

The biggest surprise in Scarborough was the lack of enthusiasm for fish. “In a town with a fishing fleet, I was amazed there wasn't a fish restaurant – only fish and chips. People still ask, 'Is this fish from London?' They don't know their own fish.” Alessio adores the quality from the day boats. “It's so good, but you have to eat it on the spot. You can't even take it to Leeds or York.” He is equally appreciative of our beef. “The best you can get. You get different cuts and use in Italy, but the grass-fed beef here is better.”

Alessio stresses that Lanterna is not an Italian restaurant. “Occasionally people ask for pizza but this is a Piedmontese restaurant. Mainly I serve the food I grew up with – egg pasta, polenta, bagna cauda.” His risotto, incorporating porcini foraged from a secret location outside Scarborough, is perhaps the best single dish I've ever eaten. Each autumn, he visits the small, medieval town of Moncalvo, where he grew up, and returns with a haul of white truffles that lures gourmets across Britain for dishes at £35 to £45 a plate. The prosciutto and cured sausage he imports from Piedmont are nonpareil – tender, luscious, irresistible. His intensely sweet gorgonzola comes from the town of Gorgonzola. It is served as a massive, flowing chunk from which you help yourself. Similarly, a request for a digestivo of grappa is liable to result in half- a-dozen rare bottles plonked on your table.

Deviations from Piedmontese tradition are to suit local tastes, such as the lobster thermidor and generous dishes of vegetables that accompany his courses. “People up here expect them.”

Alessio also has a powerful creative streak that produces memorable dishes such as baked pears in cheese sauce, spaghetti in velvet crab sauce and, most recently, cassata made with gorgonzola and marscapone. I was astonished to eat a delicious ice cream tinged with the singular, slightly dry flavour of black pudding.

Alessio in his restaurant in Scarborough (Gary Calton)

Alessio is repeatedly urged to up sticks for London, but the prospect doesn't appeal. “I'm a small-town boy.” Instead, London comes to him. You're also quite likely to see a famous face in the Lanterna. Sir Alan Ayckbourn tucked into a fillet steak recently. Umpire “Dickie” Bird has a partiality for stracotto di coda di manzo e ceci (oxtail and chickpea stew). The writer Kathy Lette described Alessio's velvet crab as “an orgasm for the mouth”, which may sound a predictable view from the Aussie temptress, but is also completely accurate. A floral sketch drawn by David Hockney as a “thank you” for supper acts as a cover illustration for the menu.

Though Alessio remains relatively unknown compared to TV chefs who fled the kitchen long ago, such a move is incomprehensible to him. “Customers ask, 'Is the owner cooking tonight?' Well, he cooks every night. Restaurants where the owner isn't cooking are just profit-making machines. As I see it, restaurants should be missions.” Compensation comes when, at the end of a fraught evening, he emerges from his steamy lair and enquires at each satisfied table, “'Ow we doing?”

Lanterna is at 33 Queen Street, Scarborough (01723 363 616, lanterna-ristorante.co.uk)