Amazed in Pompeii
LOU Gonzales of the Diarist has the well-deserved monopoly of food pieces here, because she cooks and eats well. Me? I burn rice in the rice cooker. But since I was recently in Italy for a couple of weeks, I figured I should chuck any diet restrictions (carpe diem, as they say) and eat well.
There are, of course, online reviews, occasionally a decent indicator. Then, there is the Michelin Guide, but if you’re like me and not filthy rich, check out the less expensive Bib Gourmand selections—no stars, maybe, but still outstanding. Then, most productive, ask the locals.
The author in Venice
At Strani, Venice, a plateful of ‘cicchetti’ or small bites (clockwise from bottom center): anchovy with bacon fat, herring with cheese, eggplant, ham and cheese sandwiches, vegetable croquette, and ‘bacala crema’ or cod mousse
Venice is brimming with fabulous restaurants, but it would be an injustice to ignore the cicchetti, small appetizers (akin to Spanish tapas, but don’t tell the Venetians that); load up a plate so you’re full enough until dinner. Many places serve it well—just check the crowds outside the place, one local recommended—but for the sheer experience, visit one of the oldest bacaros in town; a bacaro is a bar or tavern that serves wine and small plates. Cantina do Spade (San Polo 859/860, 30125), which the late great Anthony Bourdain mentioned, has been around informally since 1488 (!) and looks it, a tiny space of ancient wood, and only bar stools and some standing-room tables. Must-tries are the bacala mantecato or creamy cod mousse on crostini, pumpkin blossoms with cod, meatballs, fried mozzarella sandwiches, polpeto (octopus), all kinds of tasty fish on bread. At Strani (Via Giuseppe Garibaldi 1582, 30122), I loved me a crostini with some anchovy atop a shameless piece of bacon fat, a combination I never would have thought of.
From the birthplace of pizza, Naples: Vesuviana pizza, with meat, cheese, spinach and more, Pizzeria Vesuviana
The cheese and meat selection from Il Piastrato, Naples
Naples is the renowned pizza capital of the world, where the global favorite originated in the 18th or 19th century, from flatbreads covered with all kinds of stuff and eaten by the ancient Greeks, Romans, Persians, and Egyptians. The city itself is not as charming as its less busy sisters, but it has an inordinate number of Michelin Guide restaurants. On the list is L’antica Pizzeria da Michele (via Cesare Sersale 1/7, Naples), with pizzas at 6 Euro, founded in 1870. Since there are no reservations and there is a perennial line, however, I opted for a similar hole in the wall that was relatively comfortable at 3 pm, Pizzeria Vesuviana (Traversa III Garibaldi 4, 80142), across the Porta Nolana train station, where I chose the formidable Vesuviana, with a cream and garlic sauce plus spinach, mozzarella and gorgonzola (still bubbling!), salami, pancetta, salsiccia (sausage), olives, and Lord knows what else, atop a crust so fresh and soft I ate over half of the medium-sized thing (which could have fed three, I think). I had to box the leftovers to bring back to my hotel, and I downed it with Coke Zero. So sue me.
Gelato wrapped in chocolate bits, cherries, and many kinds of nuts at Il Piastrato, Naples
The night before, however, after a working meeting where we were fed lovely bread, I had room for more and discovered Il Piastrato (Via Silvio Spaventa 48, 80142), a four-minute walk from my hotel that’s basically a meat place, where I thoroughly enjoyed their arancini (breaded, fried risotto balls stuffed with anything—cheese, meat, and in this case, pumpkin). I went back thrice during our four-day stay, so the owner was delighted. I would try a killer cold cuts and cheese selection with apples, walnuts, and honey; a luscious hamburger with smoked provola cheese, salad, tomato and caramelized onion, and the fries piled on inside the sandwich; and a fabulous scoop of gelato generously rolled in chocolate bits, nuts, and cherries. Naturally, every meal came with a glass of wine—a chianti, a Barolo, a prosecco, or some crisp whites I had never had before, all burned off in minutes. I found the grappa too strong as a companion for dessert, so I stuck to my Italian breakfast favorite, a black café lungo—not as jarring as a regular espresso, but with more punch than an Americano. (And yes, it’s true: Italians give you the eye if you order cappuccino in the afternoon—to be clear, I wasn’t the one doing the ordering!)
The cod and spinach with capers, nuts, and olives at Januarius, Naples
Januarius’ grand San Genna Futtetenne: crunchy base of cocoa nibs, cocoa sponge cake, raspberry cream, raspberry confit, apricot gelée, passionfruit, dark chocolate mousse, and licorice
On the train back from Pompeii (which is only a 30-minute subway train ride from Naples, I learned), I called to check what time Michelin Guide resto Januarius (Via Duomo, 146/148) closed for lunch. The gracious gentleman on the phone, Francesco, said that the kitchen closed at 3 pm, but when I said I could manage 2:45 pm, assured me, “We will wait for you.” It was worth the mad dash from the train station, as I sat down to another beautiful Italian white wine; a starter of fried croquettes of potato, pasta, cornmeal, and mozzarella; a main course of perfect codfish with a small mountain of spinach cooked with olives, capers, and nuts; and the mind-boggling San Genna Futtetenne dessert that Francesco recommended: a crunchy base of cocoa nibs, cocoa sponge cake, raspberry cream, raspberry confit, apricot gelée, passionfruit, dark chocolate mousse, and licorice (which I don’t usually like, but it worked here). I hope San Gennaro (whose not-to-be-missed Museum is in the Duomo just across the street) forgives my gluttony.
Belluno, at the foot of the Italian Dolomites
The pumpkin ‘arancini’ at Cantiere del Gusto, Belluno
Pumpkin gnocchi with crisp sausage bits at Cantiere de Gusto, Belluno
But wait, there’s more. The working travels brought us to a gorgeous, quiet little city at the foot of the Dolomites, Belluno, where the entire team enjoyed a Japanese/Chinese dinner at a restaurant called Fuji Asian Fusion (Via Vittorio Veneto 90, 32100). If you’re craving for hometown flavors amidst all the Italian indulgence, this offers a yummy break—although yes, they still often lump Japanese and Chinese together in these parts: salmon sashimi + Yang Chow fried rice, anyone? The next day, however, I sought out the Cantiere del Gusto (Via Vittorio Veneto, 69–32100, just down the road from Fuji), a restaurant that proudly makes full use of local ingredients, where I went on a pumpkin trip—pumpkin arancini, plus a delicious pumpkin gnocchi with toasted sausage bits. (By the way, the pasta everywhere was always al dente. ALWAYS.)
The golden afternoon light in Siena
Inside Siena’s incredible ‘duomo’
As a side trip, I did a night in Siena, mainly to say hello to St. Catherine, one of only four female doctors of the church (more on her in a different story), and to gaze upon a city so beautiful, it made my heart ache. My lovely hotel was a 20-minute walk from the historic center, and the receptionist drew on the map the location of a small, hidden restaurant favored by locals, La Taverna del Capitano (Via del Capitano 6/8, Siena). Indeed, when I sat down for a late lunch, the only other diners were loud old men arguing good-naturedly over glasses of grappa and cookies.
(Aside: Two American couples later walked in and tried to ask for gluten-free pasta and tweak the ingredients a bit. To be fair, many restaurants now offer food “senza gluten”—but not a rustic old place like this, and the old Italian waiter told them so, in no uncertain terms. To Karen 1’s credit, she apologized and placed her order. My own waiter rolled his eyes at me conspiratorially.)
The beautiful fresh tagliatelle with garlic cream sauce and pistachios, La Taverna del Capitano, Siena
The highlight here: a tagliatelle pasta so freshly made, yet perfectly cooked, bathed in garlic cream sauce without the excessively creamy taste (no, I was told, the Italians don’t camouflage their pasta sauces with milk and thick cream), and sprinkled with pistachio and parmiggiano. I died and left my soul in Siena, in more ways than one. Dessert was a heavenly pannacotta with chocolate chips, and my lungo.
I came back for this burrata at Impronta Restaurant Venice.
Finally, back to Venice, the day before flying home. Last year, I had stumbled upon a wonderful restaurant called Impronta Restaurant Venice (Sestiere Dorsoduro, 3815, 30123), modern in presentation but still essentially Italian at heart. I never forgot the appetizer, a glorious ball of burrata cheese over cherry tomatoes that was beyond belief, and it was still on the menu, and still amazing. For my main, I had a sublime, subtle fresh spaghetti with thyme and ricotta cheese on a bed of beef tartare with black olives and tomatoes, washed down with two glasses of chianti.
“La dolce vita,” a friend reminded me—Italians truly know how to live, and eat. Which means I’ll be back, to eat and soak it in some more.
PS: At the Dubai airport for the layover, I made a beeline for my first meal out of Italy: Panda Express.
