How private chef Ralph Schelling captivates even the stars

Ralph Schelling cooks for people who already have everything. And gives them exactly what they desire most: a dish that tastes like an olfactory memory.

Top chef Ralph Schelling grew up in Flawil in the canton of St. Gallen and won the Swiss Culinary Cup as the youngest participant. After various positions in international Michelin-starred restaurants, he is now part of the global culinary elite and works, when not pursuing his own projects, as an exclusive caterer. In 2025, Ralph Schelling published his first cookbook Simple Is Best with AT Verlag, photographed by Markus Pritzi.

Ralph, you travel constantly. What keeps you fresh?
Curiosity. In the past, there was always the same routine, the same kitchen. Now I immerse myself in a new world every time. It’s demanding, yes – but as long as curiosity remains, I stay energised.

Your cookbook is called Simple Is Best. What does simplicity mean to you?
Knowing what you have. I was recently in the US – everything is standardised, from red to green, like in every Four Seasons in the world. Completely boring. Back home in Eastern Switzerland, we have apple varieties of incredible diversity. Or pears – I combine them with Jersey Blue by Willi Schmid, the master cheesemaker from Lichtensteig in the Toggenburg, a two-time world champion with this very cheese. These are simple things that become extraordinary together. On the ski slopes in Zermatt, on the other hand, they serve asparagus from Peru in February and turn it into foam. It tastes like nothing. Simplicity is right in front of us – you just have to want to see it.

Which childhood memory accompanies you in the kitchen?
Roasted aromas. Everyone wants them. Whether I cook in Milan for fashion designers or elsewhere – at some point, there’s always the desire for seared risotto, for pumpkin that goes back into the pan the next day. It reminds people of their parents, their childhood. And then there’s the egg-braided bread: Sunday braid from our mother, dipped in egg the next day like French toast. Ideally with cinnamon sugar – but we mostly ate it straight from the pan. Without sugar, because you can’t always eat sweet things. The greatest compliment is when someone says: I could probably make this myself.

Recently, I had the opportunity to cook in Giorgio Armani’s house in the Engadin. I met Giuseppe there, who had cooked for over twenty years until the death of Signore Armani. If someone stays that long, it says everything about the person they work for. The house was classic on the outside, completely Japanese inside. That shaped our dishes. Or rather: we created dishes inspired by Japan using local Swiss ingredients. These included fermented cherry blossoms or light pizzoccheri made from buckwheat, similar to what is used for soba noodles. The guests greatly appreciated it. We also explained the menu – and the inspiration behind it – to those present, which created a very special atmosphere.

How do you recognise trust – even before serving the first course?
I’m fortunate to have long-standing clients by now. For example, Calabash, a villa on the private island of Jumby Bay, three kilometres off the coast of Antigua – they let my team and me live and work there even when they themselves are not present. With such a breathtaking setting, that is almost unique, and I find it wonderful that we have built such a special level of trust over the years.

Your dishes are not created on the drawing board.
No. They emerge from life. I was recently at an event with Marina Abramović. She said the worst thing is always going into the studio – her work doesn’t come from there, but from a bus stop, from the kitchen, when she isn’t even thinking about it. It’s the same for me. I also find it dreadful when I go to a restaurant and first have to read the philosophy on the menu. In Japan, I like that you are simply welcomed first – candlelight, warmth, something that immediately draws you in.

How do you stay grounded with all this mobility?
I create quiet spaces for myself. A calm café, watching people. During the Armani project weekend, I had an invitation to the White Turf – the PR agency had already given me hashtags to post. I didn’t want that. Instead, I went to Chalandamarz, the spring festival in the Engadin. I met locals, ate fritters and drank warm tea. I much prefer that to cold champagne and cold oysters in a tent.

Privilege or responsibility?
Both. I’m grateful every day. But I don’t delude myself – it’s also a tough business. What I hope is that when people work with me, they feel a certain humanity. Maybe also a certain imperfection. That’s more relaxed.

Why don’t you describe yourself as a gourmet chef?
What we do cannot be multiplied. It’s not like Nobu, replicated worldwide in perfection. I’m very influenced by Ferran Adrià – he was self-taught. I created the cookbook with Markus Pritzi, a fashion photographer who had never photographed food before. That’s the difference. Perfectly plated dishes with dots – robots could probably do that. I’m interested in craftsmanship. And in craftsmanship, mistakes happen.

What makes a good everyday dish?
It’s a comfort dish. You want the plate and don’t want to stop eating. Not six courses with something on every spoon. Recently, I had cheese spätzle in a restaurant – it was good, but not as a course. I want it as a full plate, ideally somewhere in an old hut with nice people. Without complicated wine pairings.

The best thing you’ve ever eaten?
The Gamba Roja from Roses. I know it from my time with Ferran Adrià – El Bulli was right there on the Catalan coast. These deep-sea prawns dive very deep, their flavour is unique. Eat them raw or grilled, with a bit of olive oil, bread, maybe a splash of lemon. Ideally right there on the beach. They shouldn’t be imported. That makes no sense.

What tastes like home – even when you’re far away?
Roasted aromas. A light smokiness. Candlelight. Things that immediately make you feel at ease. These days, I actually find classic breading more appealing again than sous-vide.

First date. What’s on the table?
Something I can prepare in advance. The worst thing is when I’m constantly finishing things and can’t be present. I love braised dishes or things from the oven. My lasagna, for example – inspired by Neapolitan sweet dough, but savoury. You can reheat it. You’re not standing in the kitchen the whole time.

And which dish do you cook only for yourself?
I won’t say. Otherwise I’ll be condemned to never make it that way again.

What would you like to pass on?
Living in the moment. Many people ask me where I see myself in ten years. I don’t have a clear plan. Maybe that’s a mistake, I don’t know. But I believe in kindness and appreciation – and that it comes back. In service, I’d rather have someone who does something imperfectly but is warm and smiling. That’s what people truly miss. And that’s what’s beautiful.

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