Rome, Bologna, Venice/
Detours
AS HE CONTINUED HIS JOURNEY, Phileas made his way by train from Paris to Turin, via Mont Cenis and then on to Brindisi with the accuracy of a guided missile and almost the same speed. It was in Brindisi that he had his rendezvous with the good ship Mongolia that would carry him to Bombay.
Brindisi is not just another pretty port on the Adriatic. It has the distinction of being at the very end of the Appian Way. Brindisi was the point of embarkation for the countless Roman legions heading to Asia with some major conquering plans. Probably, no one was presumptuous enough to tell Fogg that in the year 19 B.C. the poet Virgil mysteriously died in Brindisi, probably in mid rhyme. Or perhaps, that was the reason that Phileas was so eager to leave.
Actually, it’s unlikely that Phileas could have been impressed by any of this time consuming nonsense. Without even stopping for a three cheese pizza or a glass of Chianti he was on his way to India. With the Mongolia ready to set sail, you can be sure that the prospect of Rome-ing around the Eternal City didn’t even begin to entice Phileas. Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Personally, there would be no way I could forgo the endless temptations of the cucina Italiana or the heady aroma of a rich salsa di pomodoro (tomato sauce), simmering in the cafés of the Via Veneto. I know only too well that all roads in Italy lead to Rome.
Photo by J.Miers
Trajan’s Forum
Rome/
Detour
“We’re traveling so fast that everything seems a blur.”
–Passepartout
Someone once said that most Americans who visit Rome bring with them, packed carefully in their suitcases, their own preconceptions of the city. A very few come with memories of World War II, others with a Three Coins in the Fountain romanticism, some arrive with a Hollywood, sword-and-sandal view of the ancient city. All three are possible. Younger first-time visitors have other ideas.
Rome spreads out a banquet of treasures, both new and old to feast upon. The history of the city, much of it ancient, is all around you. Who can resist the urge to fantasize about the Roman version of the Super Bowl, held in the Coliseum, to the delight of a bloodthirsty crowd? Or that vision of Nero, playing his concerto for lunatics as Rome quite literally became the hottest city in the world?
However, in the Rome of today, its formidable history is not the whole story. There is no shortage of cutting edge architecture, as well as sleekly modern restaurants, light years removed from the neighborhood trattorias of yesterday. The newer places are crowded with today’s versions of Loren and Mastroianni, extravagantly dressed in the latest Fendi, Gucci and Valentino. As for Italian industrial design, it’s considered to be some of the most progressive in the world.
Perhaps the truth is that Rome will always be a city within a city. At its very core is the echo of its ancient glory. The 21st century is welcome but only if it agrees to live in harmony with the past.
Rome is called the Eternal City for good reason. Ever since the Romans double parked their chariots in front of the Coliseum, its street life hasn’t changed all that much. Rome’s ancient monuments are almost side by side with its newest department stores and cinemas. If Caesar were to appear in Rome today, he might be a bit confused by the noise and the traffic but I’ll bet he could still find his way to the Forum without having to ask directions. And furthermore, he would be delighted to know that he has added immeasurably to his fame by becoming a really delicious salad.
It’s true that Rome wasn’t built in a day or a century or a millennium. Modern Rome is one of the great cosmopolitan capitals of Europe. No matter that Milan, its archenemy to the north, believes the Milanese and not the Roman rabble are the ones who invented the last word in sophistication. For the Milanese, that would include money and risotto in that order. but the Romans have learned to thumb their noses at their stodgy compatriots from the north, and continue to excite the rest of the world with their endless zest for life. Romans can survive anything, even the staggering weight of their own history.
The restaurant scene in Rome is almost an embarrassment of riches. It is no exaggeration to say it’s possible to stick a pin in a map of the city and come up with an exceptional meal. But even for gastroholics, food is not the only consideration. There are times when atmosphere trumps the tortellini.
Back in the days when I thought that Al Fresco was the name of a used car salesman, outdoor dining was a rarity in the States. Not so in Rome. Dining alfresco is a way of life, not only because of the cooperative climate but also because of the average Roman’s dedication to observing and then gossiping about the passing parade. People watching is an art form in Rome, and the vox populi is even more popular when you can eavesdrop on it. And let’s not forget the glorious scenery just a few feet away. Dining within sight of one of Bernini’s bubbling beauties or in an ancient piazza is a common but always major event.
OTELLO ALLA CONCORDIA – #19
A visit to Rome not only means the chance to marvel at the ancient footprint of the city but also to join its residents in living la dolce vita. Although it has never led me to take a Felliniesque dip in the Fontana di Trevi, my visit would certainly include a trip to Gucci, a quick peek into Bulgari and then a chance to linger for most of the evening under the leafy trellises of Otello. This charmer is a near perfect place for savoring the pleasures of relaxed dining while gazing at the moon. Could there be a more perfect culinary experience?
Trevi Fountain at night
If Dorothy was flabbergasted when she stepped into Oz, then I can say I felt much the same way when I first entered a narrow stone alley looking for something that resembled a restaurant, and found myself in the courtyard of Otello. The leafy canopy atop the stone walls lets filtered sunlight stream down to highlight its lavish buffet. Platters of heroic proportions are heaped with all the essential elements needed for a really extravagant antipasto.
Photo by Tatiana Kitty
Crowded Spanish Steps of Rome
Otello is not to be confused with some gilded mecca that caters to elite Roman society. On the contrary, it’s just a typical neighborhood hangout but in this case the neighborhood is right off the Spanish Steps, some of the most fashionable real estate in Rome. The streets that radiate from the Steps are a shopaholic’s dream come true. Elegant boutiques up one side and designer ateliers down the other. The area is one of the top shopping destinations of Rome. And where do you think all those exhausted fashionistas go to stoke up for the next round of fun and Ferragamo? To their cantina of choice—Otello.
At any given lunch or dinner, the stone patio is filled with hungry shoppers and storekeepers who have decided to spend their pre-siesta time grazing on roasted veggies or feasting on Otello’s homemade pastas. And then there’s always the tartufo del giorno, a dangerously caloric dessert of the day. Actually, siesta time is a necessary defense against a possible coronary event. The afternoons that I’ve spent at Otello are a blur of stuffed shopping bags and stuffed ravioli. And they always ended the same way—with a plate of gem-like raspberries buried in freshly whipped cream. Buona fortuna!
OTELLO ALLA CONCORDIA/ VIA DELIA CROCE
81/ TEL: 06-679-1178
Moderate
OTELLO’S MILIEU
If you’ve ever seen the film Roman Holiday, then you remember Audrey Hepburn devouring an ice cream cone as she sat on the Spanish Steps. Romans use the Steps to bask in the sun, to have a quick calzone or to pick up a signorina who looks like a really good sport. For tourists, it’s a place to re-group before attacking the shops again. At the foot of the Steps, the Piazza di Spagne, filled with palm trees and flowers, is the real heart of Rome. The Square was famous in the 1800s for the community of artists living along its streets. Keats and Shelly were two of the more renowned members of the group. The house where Keats died has been turned into a Keats - Shelley memorial, (obviously a two poets for the price of one strategy) and is located in the Piazza.
From the 1700s through the 1820s, the Piazza del Popolo in all its Baroque grandeur was the place to go if one wanted to view a public execution. Festive crowds filled the square, clamoring to see the executioner work his expertise on the condemned. At the time, it was regarded by the Romans as fun, Italian-style. Today, my guess is that at Dal Bolognese the only thoughts of public executions are prompted by appearing in the wrong outfit.
When I think of Rome, visions of St. Peter’s, the Forum or the Coliseum are not the only ones that come to mind. One of my favorites is sitting out on the terrace at Dal Bolognese in the Piazza del Popolo as the sun goes down. I return to that terrace every so often, to see if Dal Bolognese (DB) is still the Temple of Cool.
DB has long been the place to see and be seen in Rome. A favorite hangout for the up and coming since those who have already come up prefer the anonymity of their corner trattorias. But anyone visiting Rome to shoot a film, make a commercial, do a fashion layout or show off a new lover usually finds the way to Dal Bolognese. And, of course, it never hurts to look like a character out of an Antonioni film.
Photo by Leo-setä
Piazza del Popolo
For all of Dal Bolognese’s charisma, its décor is nothing special. Inside you’ll find a few cozy rooms for quiet dining but it’s the terrace, spilling out onto the Piazza, that is the in place to be. The ever present paparazzi hover like a swarm of manic insects to hunt for celebrities. As for the service at DB, the waiter is king. Even being considered for a table on the terrace is dependent on a roll of their very selective dice. No matter that they whizz by without even a glance as you wait patiently in the dim hope of being seated outside. They live by their own code: direct eye contact is never achieved. Don’t be daunted, just hold your ground and if you’re really fortunate, there will be a sudden cloud burst and magically a table will appear.
In restaurants that thrive on their own celebrity, food can turn out to be just an afterthought. Not so at Dal Bolognese. The food is always dependable without upstaging the diners. DB is known for the rich sauces and pastas of Bologna. The homemade egg tagliatelle, one of the most ordered pastas on the menu, is almost buried beneath a thick sauce Bolognese and a blanket of parmesan cheese. DB’s pièce de résistance is its heroic Bollito Misto, a dish almost as famous as the restaurant itself. A selection of boiled meats which can include, in varying proportions and combinations, brisket, tongue, duck, chicken, sausage and, for the bravest of the brave, a head of veal (ears and all). The meats recline on a rolling cart called a carrello. All of the carving and serving is done with great ceremony as befits a carnivore’s dream come true. The sauces served along side are the traditional green sauce made from a combination of herbs and a mostarda, a thick, sweet conserve of seasonal fruits. It may be true that Dal Bolognese is more of a social experience than a dining event, but no matter, it’s Rome at its most beguiling.
DAL BOLOGNESE’S MILIEU
It’s impossible to resist walking and walking and then walking some more, in Rome—an exquisite Renaissance church here, a majestic fountain there. The most fascinating thing of all is that the names attached to them are familiar to us because of history books, rather than guidebooks. And then suddenly there they are, just waiting to be discovered by you. The Via del Corso, right off the Piazza del Popolo, is lined with impressive Renaissance palaces. The 15th century church of Santa Maria del Popolo is just steps from Dal Bolognese’s terrace and is filled with glorious frescos, paintings by Caravaggio, a chapel designed by Raphael, not to mention a few additions by Bernini. Now that’s food for the soul.
DAL BOLOGNESE/ PIAZZA DEL POPOLO 2 / TEL:
06-361-1426
Moderate/Expensive
It would seem that visiting the place where Goethe and Lord Byron enjoyed their evening espressos, though not at the same time, would be of more than routine interest. It was for me. The Caffé Greco, which opened its doors for business in 1760, has not only shared two and a half centuries of history with Romans but has served as the favorite coffee house for an impressive list of artists and writers. You might say that Caffé Greco was the beginning of the Age of Starbucks. Over time, the Caffé’s regulars have included Casanova, Shelley, Wagner, Berlioz, Liszt and D’Annunzio. One wonders in the case of Casanova when he had the time for a cuppa joe.
Although it might have been the clubhouse for the greats and the near greats, Caffé Greco wasn’t quite so popular with Pope Leo XII, who in a fit of 19th century pique, or more likely coffee nerves, had the place padlocked. His thought being: less time for schmoozing means more time for praying. Undaunted, the staff handed cups of espresso through the windows to its caffeine deprived fans lined up outside.
It’s true that today Caffé Greco has become the kind of tourist magnet that an experienced traveler shuns like the plague but, on the other hand, it’s wonderful that this landmark still exists. Bottom line: I, for one, cannot resist its gilded if slightly faded splendor. The lure of the worn burgundy velvet, the shabby paintings on the walls and all that history, for me is irresistible. My favorite spot is the banquette under the portrait of mad King Ludwig of Bavaria.
Photo by nolitawanders
CAFFÉ GRECO/ VIA CONDOTTI 86/
TEL: 06-679-I700
Moderate
Since the caffé is right off the Via Condotti, a veritable shopper’s paradise, it would be a pity not to sample some of the wares of this eternally enticing city. And with a little help from American Express or Visa, among others, you can do just that. The narrow street is filled with artists, not known for their frescos but for their contributions to the pages of Vogue and Bazaar. When in Rome, there’s nothing like doing some really serious merch research and it’s the perfect antidote for the insomnia that will surely result from all those espressos.
IMÀGO / THE HASSLER ROOF – #22
The Hassler Hotel during the ‘60s was the grandest of the Grand Hotels in Rome, as well as the darling of the Jet Set. Today, the term “jet set” seems so outdated but in those days it conjured up visions of white mink coats and gigolos. The Hassler with its enviable location, at the top of the Spanish Steps, stood like a grand dame, decked out with gilded moldings and brocades. But if you had looked more closely just a few short years ago, you would have noticed that she has a small run in her stocking. That’s not to say that the Hassler would ever have been considered a budget hotel. It sported a five-star rating but the spotlight had dimmed a bit, just as it had for the Jet Set.
However, as I said, that’s all in the past now that the Hassler has morphed into the Hotel Hassler Villa Medici. It has been buffed and burnished to a fare-thee-well and has regained its gilded reputation. Even though it has been completely refurbed, what remains from the good old days is the Hassler’s famous roof restaurant, which has been renamed, Imàgo. While it’s true that there are stunning rooftop restaurants at many luxury hotels around town, the Hassler seems to bridge the gap between the glamour of the city’s postwar days and the second decade of the new millennium.
Photos courtesy of Imàgo
The term “brunch” has never been enthusiastically accepted in Rome. I suspect that it has something to do with going to church for an 11 o’clock mass on Sunday morning. Or perhaps it’s just that Romans are not eager to give the impression that they would think of booking a table before noon. They leave that to the Americans. And so, it’s much more politic to have Sunday lunch at the Imàgo.
Courtesy of Imàgo
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• ¼ to ½ cup Peanut oil
• 2 long eggplants
• 6 eggs
• Salt and pepper
• 1¾ cups flour
• 4 tomatoes
• 10 ounces Buffalo mozzarella
• 1¼ cups basil
• 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
Serves 6
Preheat oven to 350°F. Warm in the oven enough peanut oil to cover the bottom of a large fry pan. Cut the eggplants into round slices that are around ¾- inch thick and put aside. Whisk eggs along with a pinch of salt in one bowl, and place the flour in another bowl. Then place the eggplant slices in the bowl of flour, and then in the bowl with the whisked eggs, and then once more back in the flour so that both sides are well covered. Then place them once more in the egg mixture and immediately fry in heated peanut oil.
Place the fried eggplant slices on absorbent kitchen paper and salt them on both sides. On the side, cut each tomato into four slices and remove seeds and fleshy inside parts, and then cut the mozzarella into slices.
Prepare fake sandwiches using the fried eggplant discs instead of bread. On each eggplant slice place a layer of tomato, then a layer of mozzarella and then some basil leaves on top, dusting between each layer with grated Parmesan cheese.
Place in the oven for about 7 to 8 minutes, or until the mozzarella melts slightly, then serve.
—recipe by chef Francesco Apreda
In truth, almost everyone still calls Imàgo the Hassler Roof. No matter what it’s called, lunch there on the weekend is almost viewed as a ritual. And come to think of it, “viewed” is the operative word. From the Hassler’s luxurious rooftop terrace, the panoramic views take in the dome of St. Peters and the Vatican. The Seven Hills of Rome are spread out as far as the eye can see. When people tire of being mesmerized by the scenic wonders, they can feast on Imàgo’s perfectly moist frittatas, its tender tagliatelle, not to mention its silken cannoli, stuffed with mascarpone. For those who just prefer a Campari at sunset, as I do, it’s a special delight to watch the purple sky become illuminated by the lights of Rome.
IMÀGO/THE HASSLER- VILLA MEDICI ROOF/
PIAZZA TRINITA DEI MONTI 6/ TEL: 06-699-34726
Moderate/Expensive
HOTEL HASSLER’S MILIEU
Just steps away from the Hassler, the Borghese Gardens are in perpetual bloom. Laid out in formal English style, they seem to go on for miles. The Gardens are not just a place to commune with nature; they’re filled with majestic villas that house extraordinary art collections. The largest is the Villa Borghese, whose collection includes Titian, Raphael and Caravaggio. The Villa Julia which was originally the summer home of Pope Julius III has a collection of Etruscan antiquities. Last but not least, the Villa Medici is now the French Academy of the Arts.
I know what you’re thinking, Babington’s really doesn’t sound like an Italian name. Right you are—it’s not. It’s the veddy proper surname of Anna Maria Babington who opened her veddy English enterprise 1893. You could say that Babington’s Tea Rooms are steeped in history.
Anna Maria had her work cut out for her since most Italians thought tea was a letter of the alphabet rather than a drink. Linguini with clam sauce was much more common than tea and scones on Italian menus. Miss Babington, stiff upper lip and all, took matters into her own hands. She was determined to provide a homey atmosphere for her fellow Brits to relax in, a place just right for sipping a soothing cup of Earl Grey.
The best reason to stop in at Babington’s, after running up and down the Spanish Steps nearby, is that unlike the rest of Rome which seems never to stop, you can finally unwind, if only for a short time. It’s almost as if you’d pressed a giant mute button after walking through the door.
Courtesy of Babington’s
The look of Babington’s hasn’t changed much in more than a century. Graceful palms, dark woods and British prints all contribute to its cozy Victorian aura. When Anna Babington opened her doors to Rome, she had a small black and white cat at her side. Through the years that fabulous feline has been succeeded by a whole dynasty of terrific tabbies, and recently has become the official trademark of the tearoom.
When I was first taken to Babington’s by a friend, he told me that not only had the tearoom remained open through the rise of Mussolini and World War II, but a small room in the back had been used as a meeting place for members of the Resistance. Babington’s may not have always been an island of calm, at least not in those terrible days.
Aside from a selection of more than 100 different teas and the usual itsy, bitsy cucumber sandwiches, if you stop by for breakfast they offer pancakes and fresh scones, with or without tea. Be warned however, Babington’s is not for the faint of wallet. The prices are higher than St. Peter’s dome.
Photos courtesy of Babington’s
BABINGTON’S/ PIAZZA DI SPAGNA 23/ TEL: 06-678-6027
Very Expensive
BABINGTON’S MILIEU
The Spanish Steps, all 138 of them, afford countless opportunities to ascend to the Hotel Hassler, or descend into the Piazza di Spagne where thousands of boutiques and cafés beckon. Or how about a drink and some people-watching in the Hassler’s elegant lobby lounge? After all that tea, I’m sure you could use a more spirited beverage.
IL PAGLIACCIO
Not exactly new but recently updated, those who have taken a fresh look have come away singing Pagliaccio’s praises. Chef Anthony Genovese has a menu which fuses together Italian and Asian, no easy task, to create his signature cuisine.
IL PAGLIACCIO/ VIA DEI BANCHI VECCHI 129/
TEL: 06-688-09-595
DITIRAMBO
It may look rustic like a country inn you might find outside of Rome but don’t let that fool you. Ditirambo is as of the moment as they come. The specialties are a far cry from your mother’s spaghetti and meatballs. If you order pasta, it comes with a rabbit ragu. If you order a simple octopus salad it comes with a purée of white beans and if you order steak it’s been sautéed in balsamic vinegar. Ditirambo roughly translated means “born from a different experience.” They’re not kidding.
DITIRAMBO/ PIAZZA DELLA CANCELLERIA 73/
COMPO DE FIORI/ TEL: 06-687-1626
Neptune Fountain in Piazza Nettuno
“This intended route was far from being the most direct, the one which would have best suited Phileas Fogg”
—Jules Verne
Bologna certainly would not have qualified as the most direct or even remotely direct route to have suited Fogg in his relentless battle with time. But as for me, Bologna is one of the more delicious detours in all of Italy, and not to be missed.
Fans of Jenny Craig or the Nutrisystem method of self-denial should read no further. Bologna is described by its own population as “Bologna la Grassa,” meaning “Bologna the Fat.” And since my detour has much more to do with self-indulgence than calorie counting, you may want to avoid this city rather than risk a head-on confrontation with an unforgettable platter of tortellini. However, if you can throw caution and your defibrillator to the wind, you’re in for a unique experience. Bologna is ground zero for traveling gastronauts.
Photo by Robert DiGiorgio
Prosciutto di Parma
An almost perfectly preserved historical city, Bologna is in the Emilia-Romagna region, considered to be the breadbasket of Italy. The area overflows with gustatory delights inspired by the sheer abundance taken from the land.
The prosciutto di Parma smoked in the Emilia-Romagna has a distinctive delicacy, in part due to the lack of pollution in the air that’s used to dry it. Romagna’s other smoked meats and its exquisite cheeses are exported the world over. However, there’s more than enough left over for the countless restaurants of the city to throw together a decent scaloppini or two.
The first thing that I noticed in Bologna were the covered walkways (there are over 40 kilometers of them) called portici, lined with stone Corinthian columns. The columns, originally wood, were built during the Renaissance to protect the poor from the elements (the rich, you can be sure, had door to door carriage service). And so you might say that most of the city is weatherproof. Pity the unfortunate umbrella manufacturer who was forced to declare bankruptcy in Bologna waiting for customers.
Little did the Bolognese know back in the Renaissance they were creating one of the world’s first shopping malls. Many restaurants are tucked under the city’s vaulted ceilings, and the arcades also shelter an assortment of expensive boutiques that are almost as tempting as Bologna’s homemade mortadella.
Yet another claim to Bologna’s fame is that it is home to Europe’s oldest university, established in 1088. The illustrious alumni include Dante, Petrarch, Copernicus and much, much, much later, Fellini. Can you imagine what their senior proms must have been like?
I CARRACCI – #24
Had the Carracci, a family of artists who painted up a storm in the 16th and 17th centuries, but known that their fame would live on into the 21st they would have been immensely cheered. Carracci frescos were commissioned to celebrate the four seasons on the ceilings of the Fava-Ghisilieri Palace, which later became the seminary of the Archbishop of Bologna, and today is a restaurant bearing the artists’ name. The effect is of a mini Sistine Chapel accompanied by a menu. Actually, I’ve always thought that the addition of a tiny café in the genuine Cappella Sistina would have made Michelangelo happy. He almost never got to go out for lunch. Today, it’s a toss up as to which is more exciting, the food or the frescos. Still there’s no doubt that frescos add a divine touch to the menu.
Photo by Brandi Sims
I CARRACCI’S MILIEU
Chances are if you’re in Bologna and you’re not eating, than you must be exploring the 40 kilometres of arcades filled with shops, food, galleries, theaters and on and on. Best of all, you don’t even have to worry about the rain. Or, you can wander the palatial rooms in the rest of the Hotel Baglioni to explore its art collections, including more of those glorious frescos.
When I was last in Bologna I stayed at the Hotel Baglioni which shares the palace with I Carracci. Most people who stop at the hotel just assume that I Carracci is the hotel restaurant but in truth it has become a landmark in its own right. The menu is a showcase for Bologna’s fabulous local ingredients, and I Carracci has made its sauce Bolognese a three-star event, especially when lavished over a plate of its house-made pasta. Their hand-made pastas are hand-rolled or stuffed, and then transformed by the kitchen into a number of memorable dishes. End your meal with a simple plate of figs picked in the morning and drizzled with aged balsamic vinegar from Modena to underscore the sweetness of the fruit.
I CARRACCI/ VIA MANZONI 2/TEL: 051-222-049
Moderate
Bologna/
Front Burner
MARCO FADIGA BISTROT
In New York, graffiti covered walls usually denote an abandoned building or subway car but in Bologna graffiti cover the walls at this trendy trattoria. The young chef-owner uses a chalkboard to jot down his latest additions to the Cucina Moderna movement. His fans (and they are many) crowd in to sample salmon marinated in coffee and bass tartare with a mango salsa. Chef Boyardee would be shocked!
MARCO FADIGA BISTROT/ VIA RIALTO 23-C/
TEL: 051-220-118
Venice/
Detour
If I was confounded by the fact that Phileas simply would not make time for a quick look at Rome or Bologna, then color me exasperated at his ability to ignore Venice, a fabled city for all time. No one should ever put a foot on Italian soil without giving some serious thought to the pure joy that comes from floating down one of Venice’s idyllic canals. At least before—as most of its residents fear—it’s swallowed up by the waves of the Adriatic. Even the most optimistic environmentalists think Venice’s future is a watery one. Today, when you get a sinking feeling in Venice it’s not an emotional response; it’s a grim reality. This exquisite city is sinking inch by inch every year. When I last visited Venice I was alarmed to see the water lapping hungrily at the terrace of the Hotel Gritti Palace—an elitist recollection to be sure but also a frightening one. Try as they might, a legion of engineers from all over the world failed to come up with a lasting solution, so it may be going, going glub-glub for this astonishing city.
Most travelers have two very distinct responses to Venice. One is disbelief at the beauty of this almost mythic setting. The other is disbelief at the fragrance of the city’s canals and the assorted garbage left to rot in the sun of Piazza San Marco. Some visitors are also repelled by the crush of the seasonal crowds and the hordes of pigeons, alarmingly focused on your edibles. The naysayers see Venice as if it were a board game, and the visitor who can amass the most unhygienic, unpleasant experiences, wins. It amazes me that anyone would spend time sniffing the canals when she or he could be enjoying the way that the water mirrors back the sheer magnificence of Venice. What a sin!
It would be easy to think of Venice as a huge stage set that’s rolled out during the summer months for the benefit of the thundering herd and then taken apart in the fall to be stored until next year. But the truth is that behind all that gilded scenery, Venice has a thriving backstage community who calls this waterlogged city home. Many of the families who live and work in Venice have been there for centuries. Today the city’s pressing problem, aside from rising water levels and yearly tourist invasion, is that more and more young Venetians have chosen to move to drier land. Or perhaps it’s just that they no longer want to remain in what has become a Renaissance theme park for visitors. Even some diehards fear that soon there will be no way to keep the sea out and the city afloat. Death in Venice resonates not as the title of a literary classic but as a macabre prediction.
It seems particularly ironic that Venice, a powerful city-state during the Renaissance and the world’s showcase for Byzantine opulence, should now be at the mercy of its own touristic success. If the doges (rulers) had realized when they created one of the most civilized and feared empires that it would be remembered by tour guides as the birthplace of the venetian blind or the city that introduced sugar to the rest of Europe, they might not have bothered.
Though there are glorious churches, fascinating museums and historic palaces to visit, it almost seems an intrusion to do anything in Venice aside from spending hour after hour at one of its many cafes. If the café is in Piazza San Marco, then the usual activity is sipping a Cinzano and nibbling on a crostini while listening to one of many outdoor orchestras play Fascination. The crumbs left from the crostini are fair game for the only creatures actually entitled to be called pigeon-toed, those cheeky birds who make the square their parade ground. As your glass empties, you order yet another Cinzano to sip as the sun goes down. I can’t think of a more sybaritic way to “see” Venice.
It may have the Grand Canal but Venice doesn’t always match it up with Grand Cuisine. Venice is much more about sight than taste.
Of all the Italian cities noted for their brilliant cucinas, Venice usually finds itself somewhere in the middle—not the most revered, but not the most disregarded, either. With a bit of detective work you can find a restaurant gem or two tucked into one of the city’s narrow alleys. When I’m forced to take nourishment, I regretfully leave Piazza San Marco with its haunting strains of Fascination, and head for an aromatic bowl of zuppa di pesche, which is just another way to order a fine kettle of fish at al Graspo de Ua.
GRASPO DE UA – #25
Always teeming with people who seem to linger for hours, methodically shelling their mussels and clams, Graspo de Ua is a Venetian fish story. But unlike most fish stories, this one is no exaggeration. The display that greeted me when I entered would have made Neptune take a second look. Part of the attraction, aside from the marine visuals, is that Graspo de Ua (bunch of grapes) has made its reputation with the locals, not just the invaders. There are restaurants on every street in Venice filled with non-Venetians, and so a more hometown atmosphere seems to make everything taste better. And Graspo’s sunny yellow walls under the dark beamed ceilings make for a warm, comfy setting. To top it all off there are Italian proverbs stenciled on the beams that run the gamut in translation from, “Bread and wine bring happiness” to “Wine is the best medicine.” No argument from me in either case. Most of the Italian words are understandable—even so my waiter took a special delight in translating them for me. That almost never happens at Applebee’s.
Whatever the catch of the day is, it turns up on the menu at Graspo for lunch or dinner. You can smell the perfume of the Adriatic still clinging to its most precious possessions, as if unwilling to give up even a single scallop. The menu, while starring the denizens of the deep, also has a variety of risottos, some with seafood, some with wild mushrooms, all rich as Croesus. If you find it compelling, as I do, to actually order fegato alla Veneziana right in Venezia, this is your big chance. Liver and onions, as it’s referred to in the States, was a staple of luncheonette menus. But at Graspo, it’s not just liver and onions, it’s delicioso and worth ordering even if the restaurant specializes in seafood. After all, who’s to know that you didn’t explore the cuttlefish in its own ink, or the flounder stuffed with octopus? Trust me—I’m not just whistling “Tosca” here.
GRASPO DE UA /CALLE DEI BOMBASERI/ TEL:
39-520-0150
Moderate
GRASPO DE UA’S MILIEU
What to do next? It’s as obvious as a gondola on 42nd Street. Since Calle dei Bombaseri, the narrow street that Graspo de Ua calls home, opens on to the Rialto, it’s only a short distance to Ca’ d’Oro. That would be the magnificent palazzo where Venice’s doges hung their jeweled hats. When Ca’ d’Oro was built in the 15th century, its façade was completely gilded so that it could reflect the sun. Architectural Digest, eat your heart out. The Moorish influences make the courtyard seem like a side trip to Istanbul. You’ll also find the Galleria Franchetti which has some exquisite examples of Renaissance art.
If Ca’ d’Oro is closed, then try an evening stroll under the Rialto Bridge. It will give you an opportunity to pick up all those tacky souvenirs you wouldn’t be caught dead buying in the light of day.
HARRY’S BAR – #26
So, who is this famous Harry and why does he have all those bars? No matter where you go these days there’s a Harry’s Bar, even Tokyo, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t see the Grand Canal. The answer to the often asked question has, in fact, no answer. If you think about it, there would have to be countless Harry’s to run all of those bars. And so, while the stories and explanations are as numerous as its drink choices, Harry’s remains an enigma wrapped in an enigma. All the other Harry’s may have some sort of family connection. but the legendary watering hole in Venice is in a class by itself.
Photo by Clayton Parker
To get back to the first Harry---historically speaking, the original cast of characters did include a Cipriani. It was Arrigo Cipriani, Harry’s dad, who first had the impossible dream. The story goes that in the ‘20s Arrigo was a bartender in one of the elegant hotels on the Grand Canal that catered to the beautiful people who made Venice their personal playground. Enter a man named Harry (there’s that name again) Pickering, a fabulously rich American who made a habit of having Arrigo whip up his drink del giorno. After a while, Harry Pickering became a friend as well as a fixture. It came as a shock to Arrigo when one day Harry disappeared. He then reappeared weeks later, and admitted that he had gone through all his lira. The hotel staff had begun to chase him down hallways, waving his, by now, gigantic bill. Without even a break in the rhythm of his cocktail shaker, Arrigo scraped together enough money to rescue his friend. Though this is beginning to verge on the operatic, hang in there, it really will be worth it.
Pages fall from the calendar and a year or two later who should walk into Arrigo’s bar? You guessed it. Harry had returned. He not only paid his debt, but he added a handsome bonus in gratitude. He said that he had always wanted his very own bar (Are you getting the connection?) and asked Arrigo to be his partner. Drum roll!
Harry’s Bar opened in 1931. and from that moment on Harry Pickering sat in a chair in the corner and greeted everyone who came through the door. In no time Harry’s became the place to be in Venice, and Arrigo ruled his territory behind the bar with the elegance of a doge. The bottom line is: Who really knows what makes a room with a few tables, chairs and a convivial atmosphere become a legend? Whatever that illusive quality may have been, Harry’s Bar became a magnet for a host of boldface names. Hemmingway and Bogart had martini contests (my bet is it ended in a draw), Noel and Gertie turned up for their five o’clock Bellinis, and the Aga Khan found Harry’s tiny grilled cheese sandwiches almost as satisfying as a new prayer rug. Those very sandwiches are still on the menu and, as far as I’m concerned, still as addictive.
Today, the world has moved on and so have the crowned heads and celebs who used to appear at Harry’s with regularity, even Brad and Angelina. Like most of the landmarks in Venice, Harry’s has succumbed to the crush of humanity. Recently the management was driven to impose a no shorts dress code, where once a white dinner jacket was considered informal. I must admit that before I stop in at Harry’s I can’t help but rummage through my suitcase for something that twinkles or floats, just for old time sake. It’s the Joan Crawford in me rising to the surface, and Harry’s is still the perfect place to flaunt her.
Now that Harry’s days as a pit stop for the rich and richer have passed, you would think that booking a table or at least finding a spot at the bar would be a cinch. Forgedddabouditt! Harry’s is still jammed every night, only now it’s with thirsty backpackers. The poor misguided souls who try to crowd through the door won’t be rewarded with anything but aching tootsies. The wait can take you from one season to the next. A reservation is crucial unless you want to lean against the bar or lean against the people already leaning against the bar. A word to all the frugalistas, if you don’t have your Bellini or Compari while seated, you won’t get charged for service or tax. Don’t try a seven course meal this way but today every little Euro helps.
If you do decide to reserve a table for lunch or dinner you will eat very well. Amidst all of the hub and the bub, Harry’s turns out a terrific plate of pasta. The fish is moist and perfectly done, the carpaccio (razor thin sliced prime beef served with a caper sauce) is a house specialty and it should be. It’s marvelous. The biggest relief of all is that the service is still deft and stylish. All of this may or may not be worth its weight in gold, which is what you’ll wind up paying. That said, there is simply no way to visit Venice without stopping in at Harry’s Bar for a drink, a toasted cheese sandwich and a large helping of its mystique.
HARRY’S BAR/ CALLE VALLARESSO, 1323/TEL:
41-528-5777
Super Expensive
THE HOTEL CIPRIANI /THE BAR – #27
Why not leave the Piazza San Marco, and head to the Piazzetta (the small square) and onto the Grand Canal. Proceed along the Canal waterfront to the motor boats tied up at dockside, almost opposite the Doge’s Palace. Think adventure. You’re on your way to one of the most glamorous nightcaps in Venice.
A few steps away from the Doge’s Palace, give or take, you will see a small canopy marked Hotel Cipriani at the dock. Your adventure is about to begin. A devastatingly handsome Venetian, dressed in a snazzy yachting outfit, will ask if you want to be taken out to the hotel. This does not involve a change of accommodation, merely a fieldtrip to explore the fabled Hotel Cipriani and perhaps stop for a drink. Cipriani is located on one of the small islands (Giudecca) right across the Grand Canal—you get to use the hotel motor launch as your transportation. It’s just a four minute voyage but oh, what a magical ride it is.
As you pull away from the dock, you have all of Venice in your sight. The closer you get to the hotel the more ravishing the view behind you becomes. Actually, you’re seeing Venice the same way that ships arriving at the time of the Renaissance did. Can you imagine how impressive Venice at the height if its power must have been? And of course, how impressive it will be when you return after your drink. There are people who stay at the Cipriani, not just because it’s considered to be one of the world’s great hotels, but because of the boat ride. I must confess that I’m one of them. Being ferried back and forth in such luxury is a great persuader.
The Cipriani was just a small inn when Arrigo Cipriani decided in the late ‘30s to expand his holdings and buy it. The inn’s location was perfect since it was tucked away overlooking a quiet lagoon and all the rooms had views of the water. Over the years as the inn became better known it also became less tucked. Its reputation for luxury and service rivaled the Gritti Palace, Venice’s première Grand Dame, and was soon discovered by Europe’s elite. The simple little inn has grown through the years to have 100 rooms, an Olympic-size swimming pool and a tennis court (one would think a dangerous sport in Venice).
There are two bars at the “Cip” (pronounced chip in Italian). The Fortuny bar is my favorite. It’s lush with velvets, paintings and dark wood, and it overlooks the gardens and the lagoon beyond. It’s the perfect place for lingering over a Bellini (yes, they serve them there, too).
The Fortuny restaurant is smashing in décor, done with a domed ceiling not unlike a mini St. Peter’s (I’m not sure if the pope has been told yet), and is aglitter with Venetian glass. The terrace rolls out into the flower-filled gardens and it, too, overlooks the lagoon. All in all, the setting is 24-carat. The food, while quite good, requires a Swiss bank account or alternatively a mask and a gun to pay the bill. Since billionaires routinely stop at the Cip just breathing the same air can make your portfolio much more bullish. Although it’s done up in the grand manner, the Fortuny restaurant is really no substitute for the fun of dining back in the “real” Venice.
HOTEL CIPRIANI/ ISOLA GIUDECCA/ TEL: 41-520-7744
Very Very Expensive
CAFFÉ FLORIAN – #28
Now that you’re back on semi-dry land again, it seems much too early to say goodnight to Venice, especially with all those orchestras still playing to a hypnotized crowd. How about a cup of chocolate or a cappuccino and a small cannoli along with the music?
Caffé Florian opened its doors in 1720. The owners have taken great pains to preserve its history, and that would be history with a capital H. Florian is believed to be one of the oldest coffee houses in the world.
With its stained glass windows, gilded walls, plush upholstery and frescoed ceilings, Florian exudes the Venetian elegance of the past. For nearly 300 years almost everyone who has passed through Venice has stopped for a large helping of the latest gossip and intrigue along with refreshment. Florian was Casanova’s favorite spot to preview the beauties of the day. He must have had a really outstanding time since it was the only caffé in Venice that served women.
One of the several rooms at Florian is named “The Room of Illustrious Men,” and that’s no joke. The room is filled with heroic paintings of Marco Polo, Titian, Palladio and Goldoni, although some of them were not around in time to have been Florian regulars. The luckier ones who turned up for a dish of sorbetto include Oscar Wilde, Dickens, Eleanora Dusa, Modigliani and Proust, who had to settle for a biscotto instead of a madeleine.
CAFFÉ FLORIAN / PIAZZA SAN MARCO 56/
TEL: 41-520-5641
Moderate
Photo by karlakp
If by now you’re sick of hearing Fascination and downing Cinzano in Piazza San Marco, rise from your chair and walk across the square to the Campanile (bell tower). The first thing to understand about the Campanile is that it’s a phony. I know, that sounds rather harsh, especially since most of Venice is in pretty good shape, at least the areas still above the waterline.
The Venetians call their tower “the master of the house” since it towers over everything in a protective manner. Their perception is somewhat ironic. The Campanile, built in 1513, suffered from somewhat less than first rate construction, and in 1904 just crumbled to the ground in a mountain of rubble. Not to be daunted, the Venetians rebuilt it, and it continues to stand as one of the most famous symbols of the Venetian empire. When I was last there, you could climb to the top of the tower for a spectacular view. But today, security considerations have made the Campanile off limits.
Venice/
Front Burner
LE BISTROT DE VENISE
Le Bistrot is a combination art gallery, poetry center, wine tasting room and café. It’s the perfect place to write postcards and have an espresso. But that’s not all. If you come for dinner you may be treated to some of its 15th century Venetian classic recipes, taken from its 15th century Venetian cookbooks. How cool is that?
LE BISTROT DE VENISE/ SAN MARCO 4685/
TEL: 41-523-6651
Photo by J.M. Suarez
