one chilli oil, three heats

heat is the easiest thing to get wrong at volume. cook chilli into a mother sauce and you've forked the batch — now there are two ragùs, and by friday there are five, and none of them taste the same twice.

so no heat ever cooks into our sauces. the entire ladder is applied at the finish, from one prep item: the house chilli oil, bloomed each morning, tasted each morning. classic is the dish as written. zesty is a calibrated fold of the oil — measured, not splashed. fiery is the oil plus the house chilli crisp, for people who want texture with their consequences.

one item, three settings, every sauce on the menu. the same crescent of oil that blooms on the charred rosé sets the wings on fire if you ask it to. consistency isn't a mood here; it's a spoon and a scale.

the one honest exception: the chilli sugo is born hot — whole dried chillies bloomed in the oil are the dish itself, not a setting. classic on that bowl already means business. the kitchen will go easy if you ask. it will also, quietly, respect you if you don't.