COMMUNITY X KYLIE

Daniel Johnston.

Daniel Johnston is constantly curious in his practice as a chef, and I am drawn to his irreverent, eccentric character. Over the past seven years or so, he has delighted us with his innovative Italian pop-ups around town, yet Dan also offers so much more with his explorations that go beyond the kitchen.

I love Dan’s Italian cooking style – his food, with its “Italian nonna” touch, reminds me of the days I worked at The Restaurant Manfredi. I had the privilege of learning from the formidable Franca, Stefano and Franco Manfredi, with their focus on seasonal ingredients and a handmade, fresh-is-best, cook-to-order mantra.

Dan has an extensive knowledge and understanding of Italian cuisine and culture, and his food is even more delicious because of his generosity of spirit and warmth.

Aconscientious chef, “my favourite chef in the world”, and an all-round excellent human is how colleagues describe Daniel Johnston – chef and co-owner of Sydney’s effervescent Italian eatery, Don Peppino’s. So exactly how does a 37-year-old Australian chef manage to earn the respect usually reserved for an Italian nonna? Unending curiosity, an honest love for Italy and a tendency to treat staff like family is a pretty good start.

Johnston worked his way up through the hospitality ranks in the traditional way with apprenticeships and training, before landing at the now-shuttered Vini in Sydney’s Surry Hills, which supercharged his passion for Italian cooking. “It was a deep dive into Italy and into its subregional cuisines,” says Johnston. “I’ve spent years researching and visiting Italy. I will read a regional Italian cookbook in bed on a Sunday night because I love it.” Vini was also the launch pad for some of his less traditional ventures, including his work with the Full Circle, an off-kilter food collective, which saw Johnston and his friends conjure up temporary restaurants in Surry Hills warehouses and disused restaurants in Potts Point and Leichhardt, all before opening his more semi-permanent fixture, Don Peppino’s. “Through all these projects I’ve done, my main motivation is cooking great food, but also bringing fun and excitement to going out and eating,” he says. “In the early days one of the influences was illegal parties and raves... breaking off and doing things differently and feeling excited to be a part of it.” Motivation for Johnston also comes through an incessant and sincere curiosity. “A motto of mine lately is ‘The more I learn, the less I realise I know’,” he says. “So you don’t stop.”

It’s this approach, together with l’amore for Italian cuisine, which has propelled Johnston back to Italy time and time again. A particularly pertinent visit for Johnston was when he spent four months walking, working and living with families on different properties, particularly in Puglia. “I worked on a couple of farms, learnt how to milk sheep and roll pasta, and ate fruit off the tree, warm from the sun,” he says. “I almost didn’t come back.” And while there’s a real romance with Italy, Johnston is also a realist, recognising the dichotomy between its beauty and its flaws. “It’s sometimes hard to get Italians to think outside the box,” he says. “But they have these beautiful long-lasting traditions – that I’m sure exist in many, many cultures – which are just within the family.”

Back in Sydney, Johnston uses tradition as inspiration and takes joy in being able to offer anything from bread rolls filled with caramelised garlic butter through to a cucina poverastyle dish of al dente orecchiette with buttery chickpeas. “I’m really happy when I can say to someone, ‘Here’s a traditional pasta with chickpeas that you probably don’t want to order because it sounds boring, but try it and remember that simple things can be really beautiful,” he says.

Johnston deftly translates these traditions on the plate with a sense of irreverence and fun – the kind of fun that comes from setting up a restaurant in a former nightclub with two best mates, floor manager Tom Merryweather and chef Harry Levy. “Against most people’s advice, I went into business with two of my best friends,” he says. “We’ve found a way to be open and straight up with each other.”

The camaraderie extends beyond his business partners, as each has employed their friends to work the floor. Walk into Don Peppino’s and you instantly feel like part of the gang. Ascend the winding, glowing staircase, and you’re just dropping in to see a bunch of mates – mates who are about to show you a damn good time. “When it works, it’s a wonderful thing and it feels like we have one of the best restaurants in the entire world,” says Johnston.

So what’s next for this affable and ephemeral trattoria? The team at Don Peppino’s is keen to stick around for as long as possible. “We’re still getting the hang of it, we’ve still got more to do, and if we’ve still got the energy and motivation, we may as well keep going,” he says. “I’m fiercely independent. I always want to put myself in a position where I or the crew can make our own decisions about everything because I don’t want to compromise.”

Fierce independence and self-reflection have proved to be useful tools for Johnston. “A big part of my inspiration is these old-school values and traditions. I’m constantly questioning, ‘Is it good enough, or is it too simple?’ There’s a fine line between perfectly simple and incredibly boring, and if you’re not on the right side of it, it doesn’t work.” It’s clear that Johnston and Don Peppino’s have landed on the right side.

Walk into Don Peppino’s and you instantly feel like part of the gang. Ascend the glowing staircase, and you’re just dropping in to see your mates.