Giorgia Fornaciari: Anima Bruciata

I am in Firenze. In the city’s ancient noble quarter. In Palazzo Concini. A 13th-century palazzo steeped in the political grandeur of the Medici dynasty, now home to Locale Firenze. And it was here, within these time-worn walls, that the present-day drama of the Altamura Distilleries Italia Cocktail Competition would unfold. Locale Firenze is always abuzz, but today was different. Today, the silence was so deep I could hear the ancient stone weep with condensation.

The space was so quiet, I was certain I had mistaken the date for the final. A concierge hushedly opened the inner door, and inside, a new tension lived—thick enough to slice. I had arrived at the dying moment: the final drops were being poured, the last garnishes placed.

Before me stood a pantheon of mixology’s giants—Salvatore ‘The Maestro’ Calabrese; The Donovan Bar’s Area Director of Mixology for Europe, Federico Pavan; esteemed US journalist Robert Simonsen; and Altamura’s Head of Brand, Lorenzo Di Cola—their collective gaze a wall of silent assessment. Their task? To crown a champion whose work embodied the pinnacle of Italian craftsmanship.

Among the finalists was one young woman: Giorgia Fornaciari. She was deep in the creation of her Anima Bruciata (Burnt Soul), a meticulous reimagining of the Clover Club. It was grounded in the heritage of Altamura Distilleries Vodka, elevated by the delicate sweetness of raspberry cordial and finished with the subtle, smoky whisper of charred pineapple soda. For the judges, there was no mercy. Not a smile, not a wink of encouragement. The scales of mastery and intention hung in the balance. I felt nervous for her, and I was just an observer. What on earth was she experiencing?

Watching her, I noticed something crucial: not a tremble in her hand, not a hesitation in her delivery. When the tension finally broke, and the drinks were served, the judges slipped away into private deliberation. In the quiet that followed, I intuited murmurs, a name rising consistently: Giorgia, of Rome’s legendary Stravinskij Bar.

When the delegation ended and the winner was announced, the decision resonated far beyond the scorecards. Giorgia Fornaciari had won. I was left intrigued, and deeply curious. Who is Giorgia Fornaciari? And did the victory I just witnessed signal a pioneering moment for the future of women behind the bar? I later sat with Giorgia over a drink at Gucci Giardino to discover the mind behind the creator of the Burnt Soul.

Where are you originally from, and how did your upbringing influence your perspective on taste, creativity, and hospitality?

I come from a town on Lake Maggiore, Arona, which for me represents deep roots, authenticity, and a strong culture of craftsmanship. I grew up in a family where food was never just nourishment, but a true language: simply set tables, deep respect for raw ingredients, seasonality, and traditions passed down naturally. From a young age, this taught me that taste is born from balance and the honesty of ingredients, not from excess.  At the same time, my upbringing was strongly shaped by creativity and study.

I practiced dance for many years— an experience that gave me a deep sensitivity to movement, rhythm, and harmony. Even today, these elements influence the way I create a drink, which I see as a form of expression.  Finally, I learned hospitality through observation: attention to others, caring without ostentation, and making people feel genuinely welcomed.

All of this has shaped my vision of the bar as a human space before a technical one, where taste becomes a way to tell a story, create connections, and make people feel at home, even if only for the time of a cocktail. 

What drove you to pursue mixology, and what specific challenges did you face entering this field as a young woman in Italy?

What drove me, first and foremost, was curiosity. From the very beginning, mixology felt like a meeting point between technique, creativity, and human connection. I saw the bar as a place where stories could be told through flavor, where I could work with my hands while creating a genuine dialogue with people. It felt like a natural path.  However, entering this industry as a young woman in Italy was not easy.

At the start, I had to prove my value more than others: to be taken seriously, to overcome stereotypes related to age and gender, and to face situations where my competence was questioned before I was even heard. I was often asked to “endure,” to adapt to an environment that was not always ready to recognize female leadership behind the bar.  These challenges, though, strengthened my character.

They taught me to speak through my work, consistency, and quality, turning every obstacle into a drive for growth. Today, I see those challenges as a fundamental part of my journey—not as limitations, but as necessary steps in building an authentic voice and a clear vision of my role in this industry.

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Being mentored by Salvatore Calabrese has been an immense privilege and a great responsibility. Through him, I understood that the bar is not just about technique or performance, but about culture, elegance, and memory. Every gesture, every word, every drink carries weight and meaning—nothing should ever be left to chance. 

The most valuable lesson he passed on to me is respect: for the history of the cocktail, for the guest, and for oneself. He taught me that true authority does not come from ego, but from calmness, consistency, and the ability to make every person feel unique and genuinely welcomed. His elegance is never ostentatious, but natural, and it’s something I strive to carry with me every day behind the bar. 

Thanks to him, I learned that a great bartender is not just someone who can make great drinks, but someone who can create an authentic, timeless experience—leaving a mark through simplicity, courtesy, and humanity. 

Can you tell us about your early experiences that have shaped your professional foundation?

My first professional experience with Antonino Cannavacciuolo at Villa Crespi was fundamental in building the foundations of my career. It was an extremely formative environment, where I learned the value of discipline, rigor, and absolute respect for both the work and the raw ingredients. There, I truly understood what daily excellence means: attention to detail, constant care, and a strong professional ethic, even under pressure.

That experience taught me that talent alone is not enough—it must be supported by method, sacrifice, and a strong ability to listen. I internalized a very structured approach to work, which I still carry with me behind the bar today: precision, cleanliness, consistency, and respect for roles.  Above all, working in such a demanding context gave me a solid mental foundation.

It prepared me to face complex environments, not to fear comparison, and to always maintain high standards, regardless of the setting. It was there that I built the foundations on which my professional identity as a worker was formed. 

Tell us about an “all is lost” moment—a time of significant doubt or setback in your career. How did you navigate it, and what did it reveal about your resilience? 

There was a period when, despite the commitment and the results I was achieving, I began to feel invisible. I was working hard, giving everything I had, yet I felt that my contribution was not truly being recognized. This led to a deep sense of frustration and made me question not only my path, but also myself. It was one of those moments when you start wondering whether the sacrifices you’re making are really leading in the right direction. I faced that phase by choosing not to harden myself, but to become more clear-minded.

I turned disappointment into awareness, learning to value my work first and foremost on my own terms. I began to define more clearly who I was, what I wanted to communicate, and where my professional and personal boundaries lay. This helped me regain balance and take back control of my journey. 

That experience revealed in me a deeper form of resilience: the ability to remain true to oneself even when recognition is slow to come. It taught me that true strength isn’t about raising your voice, but about continuing to build with consistency, letting time and work speak for you. I feel there is a deeper experience behind the lesson… 

I remember an episode clearly because it was one of the most difficult and revealing moments of my journey. I didn’t share this with anyone, actually.  A client explicitly asked to be served by a male bartender and refused to have me prepare the cocktail. In that moment, there was no room for dialogue—his decision was firm and rooted in prejudice. I handled the situation with professionalism and composure, without reacting impulsively or taking it personally.

I stepped back, not to accept that viewpoint, but to protect the balance of the service and the integrity of my role. Internally, however, it was an experience that left a mark.  That episode taught me that navigating this industry also requires inner strength and a long-term vision.

It made me more determined to build solid credibility based on work and consistency, and more mindful of creating spaces where talent is recognized regardless of gender. It was a wound, but also a push to never step back. 

How would you describe your core mixology philosophy? How do principles like “simplicity is the best way to communicate” manifest in a creation like Anima Bruciata?

My mixology philosophy is rooted in essentiality and meaning. For me, a drink doesn’t need to impress through complexity, but to communicate in a clear and emotional way. I deeply believe that simplicity is the most powerful language: when you remove the unnecessary, what remains is truth, identity, and intention.  This principle is fully expressed in Anima Bruciata. It is a creation built on a few carefully chosen elements, where every ingredient has a precise role and nothing is merely decorative.

The contrast between sweetness and a smoky note, between delicacy and intensity, tells a story of transformation and resilience.  In Anima Bruciata, simplicity becomes a conscious choice: it leaves space for emotion, for gesture, and for silence. It is my way of communicating behind the bar—with respect for the raw ingredients, for the guest, and for the message I want to convey. Because when a cocktail is authentic, it doesn’t need to shout to be remembered. 

Who or what are your deepest inspirations? We’re interested in the textures, stories, or figures, from any field, that shape your creative process. 

My deepest source of inspiration comes from the intersection of memory, material, and gesture. I am deeply inspired by quiet stories those connected to the land, to manual work, and to time as a force that transforms things. Natural textures wood, ceramic, imperfect glass, surfaces marked by fire or wear strongly influence the way I conceive a drink, not only in terms of flavor but also in form and overall experience.  I draw inspiration from Italian artisanal traditions, where every gesture has a purpose and a story, as well as from the world of dance, which was part of my life for many years.

Movement, rhythm, and bodily control return constantly in my creative process: for me, a cocktail is also a sequence of gestures, a measured choreography.  Finally, I am inspired by people who work with consistency and integrity in any field—chefs, artisans, artists, but also anonymous figures who put identity and respect into what they do every day. All of this translates into an essential, narrative-driven mixology, where every detail is designed to evoke emotion rather than to impress.

What does this victory, and the platform to represent Italy internationally, mean to you as a woman in this industry? 

For me, this victory represents much more than a personal milestone: it is both a responsibility and an opportunity. It means being able to tell the story of Italy for what it truly is—made of culture, identity, everyday gestures, and a deep respect for raw ingredients—through the universal language of the bar.  As a woman in this industry, representing Italy on an international stage carries an even deeper significance.

It shows that competence, sensitivity, and leadership have no gender, and that paths built quietly, through consistency and hard work, can go far. It is also a way to give visibility to a new generation of professionals who are helping reshape the face of Italian mixology. 

This victory is also a message: it is possible to stay true to your roots, maintain an essential and authentic style, and at the same time compete on a global stage. I carry with me not only a result, but the desire to open space, dialogue, and opportunities for those who will come after.

As a pioneer, what changes do you hope to inspire for the next generation of women in mixology, and how does your role at Stravinskij Bar contribute to that vision? 

I hope to inspire a cultural shift before a professional one. I want the next generation of women in mixology to no longer have to ask for space, but to find it naturally recognized—to be judged for their vision, competence, and sensitivity, not for their gender or age. My goal is to help normalize the presence of women in positions of responsibility behind the bar, making excellence something inclusive and accessible. 

My role at the Stravinskij Bar contributes to this vision through daily example. Working in a high-level environment means demonstrating, every day, that leadership, rigor, and creativity can coexist with empathy and respect. I strive to promote an approach based on listening, collaboration, and shared growth, creating an environment where talent can express itself freely. 

I want to be a tangible presence: someone who opens doors, shares experience, and encourages other women to trust their own voice. If my path can make this journey even a little more natural for those who come after, then I will feel I’ve truly contributed to meaningful change. 

What is your single most important piece of advice for young women aspiring to lead in fields where they are underrepresented? 

The most important advice I would give is to never wait for permission to feel worthy.  Leadership doesn’t arrive when someone tells you that you’re ready—it begins when you start believing in your own value and building it with consistency, competence, and integrity. I would encourage them to study, observe, and work with discipline, while also protecting their identity.

In environments where women are underrepresented, the temptation is often to adapt or to become tougher in order to be accepted. In reality, true strength lies in staying true to oneself, transforming sensitivity into a tool for vision and authority. Finally, I would tell them not to fear time. Solid paths are not immediate, but they are the ones that last. Every obstacle can become part of the construction if faced with clarity and self-respect. Leadership is not a position to be claimed, but a responsibility to be embodied, day after day.