The Telegraph was my parents’ paper of choice, and my sister still subscribes.
She tipped me off about the weekly writing competition ‘Your say’ in the travel pages on Sunday.
This week the brief was to describe a favourite sweet treat discovered on your travels, in no more than 150 words.
My entry was printed in a very slightly edited form. Here it is in full:
A favourite ‘sweet treat’ from my travels
Frìtole in Venetian dialect (frittelle in Italian) are traditionally devoured only during the Venice Carnival, a celebration of gluttony and excess which ends on Shrove Tuesday, before the austere days of Lent begin.
Days are often foggy and cold, and revellers seek out fried treats in the misshapen form of frìtole, found in pastry shops and cafés throughout the city.
They’re knobbly little doughnuts, studded with candied citrus peel, pinenuts, and raisins (which, if you’re lucky, will have been soused in grappa) then fried and dusted with sugar.
Carnevale is not only for tourists; on one night of our stay we managed to get seated in a crowded dining room of a busy Osteria. At the neighbouring table there was a party who were clearly Venetians, finishing a tray of warm frìtole: a Renaissance prince, a nineteenth century admiral, and a Mikado who started singing arias in Italian….
We heard recently that our dear friend Michael Gough had died suddenly of a heart attack in November 2020.
We inherited Michael as a friend. Stephen Balme, my brother-in-law Richard Groves and I were working at Les Amis du Vin in the 1980s, and we came up with the idea of occasional ‘tasting dinners’.
Each guest or couple would bring a good bottle of wine from a nominated region, and probably another to go with the supper, which the host would prepare, something from the same region as the wine.
The flaw in the concept was the quantity, not the quality, of the wine.
I think it was at the pink champagne evening that we first met Michael. The evening was hosted by Stephen and his wife Shelley Gare in their flat in Ockendon Road in Islington.
When Shelley and Stephen returned to their native Australia in 1986, their fellow Australian Michael bought the flat, and we became friends with him.
Michael surveying the carnage. Mid 1980s
It was much later that Michael confessed that he was stopped by the police on his way home that night, and taken into Kings Cross police station. He engaged the desk sergeant in conversation, whose son, as luck would have it, was living in Australia.
They must have hit it off; Michael was discreetly released without charge the following morning.
Michael worked as a copywriter in the heady world of advertising in the 1980s, a world of extravagant photoshoots and hedonistic lunches. The agencies had big budgets, and they weren’t afraid to use them.
He would quote from his portfolio, with some pride, some gems: ‘Du vin. Du pain. Du Boursin’. He was less pleased with the strap line he came up with for a since forgotten wine brand, ‘Le Soir….. pour le Bon Soir’.
Best loved in our circle was his summing up of Richard’s business:
‘Richard Groves Catering. It’s a Question of Confidence’.
He was a master of the comedy pause. When I was working in the wine trade a fellow dinner guest asked me the dreaded question: ‘what’s your favourite wine?’
I later learned to say something straight away, giving the sort of answer they wanted to hear: aged Sangiovese, or a fine champagne, but that night I paused a little too long, trying to think of a suitable response.
After what seemed like an interminable silence, Michael murmured:
‘No rush Al, but tonight would be good….’
An endlessly entertaining raconteur, Michael was an acute observer of people, and he showed amusement with a chuckle, or sometimes a snort of laughter.
You could tell If he found something really funny; he would fall silent, but his shoulders would continue to rise and fall.
Michael joined us on several holidays over the years. The first was in Tuscany in 1991.
It was there that we noticed a group of attractive and excitable adolescent Italians gathering outside the bar in the town square, prompting Michael’s inimitable comment:
‘Let’s get out of here, before someone gets pregnant’.
At the end of a good evening, when the others had retired to bed, Michael and I would find a bench somewhere in whatever garden we were in. We would watch the shooting stars in the night sky in Tuscany, or the lights of the flight path to Heathrow over Twickenham.
We would linger over another glass of red wine or perhaps of grappa, and usually, in those days, a small cigar.
Asked the next day what we had talked about, I never had the faintest recollection, but Michael once claimed I had fretted late into the night about the declining stocks of sardines off the coast of Portugal.
Michael on holiday in Chablis
I was due to start a temporary job in December 1999 and had a week to spare. Michael invited me to join him in an apartment he was renting on a farm in Tuscany.
On the first morning we walked up the track to the village for a coffee, and to buy the wherewithal for lunch. When we got back to the farm, I realised I had lost the envelope containing all my Italian currency.
Michael was a patient man. We retraced our steps up the hill, and sure enough there was the crisp white envelope, lying where it had fallen out of my pocket onto the road.
‘Let me explain to you the concept of a folding piece of leather you put your banknotes in, Al, it’s called a wallet. We’ll buy you one when we go into Florence’.
There had been a hard frost that morning, but it was warm enough to sit out on the terrace for lunch. I can even remember wine we drank, Poggio Alle Gazze (a Sauvignon Blanc from the Ornellaia estate, since you ask).
Time spent with Michael was always memorable.
At the Enoteca
Michael returned to Melbourne in c1989, but would travel every year or two, so we continued to see him when he was in the UK; he would set up an itinerary of friends to stay with. An exemplary guest, a bottle of champagne and a good red burgundy would typically be proffered on arrival.
He had friends on the other side of the Thames, and he would go to them after he had stayed with us, describing himself as being like the child of divorced parents, spending time with each one in turn.
We continued to see him in Italy too, where we linked up for two holidays in Venice.
In 2014 he joined us on a rowing lesson in the Venetian lagoon. After we had all had a go at steering, our instructor rewarded us with cicheti and wine tastings at a couple of canalside bars.
At the tiller
Michael expressed regret that day that he hadn’t tried longer to row standing up, like a gondolier. It reminded me of his strap line.
‘It’s a question of confidence’
Michael afloat in Canareggio – here ended the lesson
Since we heard the news of Michael’s death, I’ve been thinking about his talents and remembering the pursuits he enjoyed:
He was self – deprecating, describing his physique as ‘the body that men admire, and women crave’
He was a writer who encouraged me to write, leading to the creation of this blog.
A talented photographer, he was also a collector of vintage typewriters.
An avid reader of ‘an improving book’, he especially enjoyed the works of Virginia Woolf.
He was a yachtsman; during his time in the UK he loved to spend time on Chichester Harbour on his ‘junk rig’.
Less well known was his skill as an amateur pilot; he liked nothing better than to land an aircraft in challenging weather conditions, at an unfamiliar airfield….
Fortunately he only pursued this risky pastime on his laptop.
Michael was always a wonderful guest, and a generous host; a bon viveur and raconteur.
No mean cook himself, Michael enjoyed watching others at work in the kitchen.
We still feel his presence today, sensing that he’s standing behind us, murmuring approval, or chuckling at some domestic dispute at the stove.
Our flight was booked for 27 March, for a short break before my operation that was scheduled for May 1st.
Still, we can look back to dinner in Murano a couple of weeks ago; that’s Angela Hartnett’s restaurant in Mayfair, not the island.
View of the kitchen from The Chef’s Table, Murano
My brother-in-law Richard is a director at Smart Catering, where Angela is executive chef; a dinner at the chef’s table was his birthday treat.
Tuscan Rosato with the veal
The head chef came out of the kitchen to introduce herself, and the menu.
‘I’m Lauren; I’m not Italian, as you can probably tell’,
she said, deadpan, in a Scottish accent, before running through the meal: canapés, a starter, pasta, a fish course, a meat course, cheese, and no fewer than three puddings.
‘Let’s hope we get through to pudding’, said Richard.
Ali, the Sommelier, who chose the wines for the evening, loving her work
Between courses, a chef came out of the kitchen to explain his or her dish.
“I love it when the chefs have to come out and describe their dish, in fully formed sentences”
commented Ali, as Harry emerged with his outstanding Vitello Tonnato.
Vitello Tonnato
Lauren invited us into the kitchen to plate our own fish course: halibut, carrot. buttermilk, fennel & Pernod velouté.
Lauren setting us the Halibut Challenge
The pressure was on.
On the pass: ‘Yes, chef!’
Ali was wearing a gold bunch of grapes as a brooch. Asked if it was her sommelier’s badge,
“Yes, I bought it on eBay – it’s bigger and more feminine than the official one”.
The pork was so good, I forgot to take a picture before getting stuck in.
We were presented with a menu at the end of the evening (to make sure we had been concentrating)
It was an outstanding and truly memorable experience. The different dishes were subtle, concentrated, beautifully executed – and the wines were marvellous, and thoughtfully chosen.
I’ll write about the food and wine pairings in my page ‘And to Drink?’
The team, led by the terrific duo of Lauren and Ali, is exceptional.
Murano by Angela Hartnett, 20-22 Queen Street, London W1J 5PP.
A calm and happy kitchen, and a real sense of welcome and hospitality front-of-house.
A seriously good cup of coffee is one of life’s great pleasures for me, and they don’t get much better than at Robert’s Coffee, in the Saluhall market, Stockholm.
The cinnamon buns are a bonus. (They take cards only, not cash, so you won’t even have to bother buying kronor).
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo on the island of Torcello; all the better for being unexpected.
Torcello is about an hour from Venice; you can reach it on a scheduled service, changing at Burano, using your vaporetto pass.
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo, Torcello
The ancient basilica on Torcello predates the city of Venice. To reach it from the quay, you walk along the side of a canal. The most famous restaurant on the island is the Locanda Cipriani nearby, but you pass three others on the way.
We weren’t looking for a grand lunch, but something to fortify us for the basilica.
The first place looked fun, but was packed with families queuing for pizza.
The second was a fairly standard Trattoria. We walked on.
The third had a big dining room with a covered terrace at the back, opening onto a garden. The menu looked as if we could find something suitable, so we went in and were greeted with smiles and shown to a table.
It was a good decision, even the bread basket was exceptional. We had a pretty antipasto of colourful steamed vegetables, all tasting intensely of themselves, served warm to bring out the fruitiness of the olive oil dressing.
Then black squid ink pasta, with crab, samphire and rosemary; orecchiette with turbot and cherry tomatoes.
We drank Arneis, a white from Piemonte.
After lunch we wandered round the garden and may have dropped off on a bench in the pergola. Just for a moment….
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo is open for lunch Tuesday to Sunday, and dinner on Friday and Saturday.
Honourable mention for the Sweetbreads at Frenchie’s Wine Bar, Paris.
So good, I ate them twice.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Kh
‘Everything, I want to eat everything’
Caffé Toscanini in Amsterdamfor the whole experience of food and hospitality; a perfect aperitif followed by an accomplished Italian meal, delivered with good humour and expertise.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Kh
The bar at Caffe Toscanini, Amserdam
The prize goes to A.G. for the best steak of 2019.I’ll be lucky to find one as good in 2020.
Most of the tables were occupied by groups of men sharing massive steaks.
There were also a few couples on date nights, sharing massive steaks.
‘Vegetarians, look away now’.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Oh
A.G. – ‘vegetarians, look away now’
TV Show: Remarkable places to eat, Episode 1, in which chef Angela Hartnett takes Maitre d’ Fred Siriex to her favourites in Venice.
It’s a full hour of television, so they have time to show you the dedication and hard work that goes into delivering the best ingredients and food experiences in the city. These are not cynical tourist traps. Nothing is done without effort: wading chest deep in the lagoon to harvest seafood; delivering vegetables by boat and trolley to Bruno Gavagnin, the quietly spoken but demanding chef at Alle Testiere; walking half a kilometre over bridges carrying boxes of perfect patisserie to Caffe Florian, from their production kitchen to Piazza San Marco – several times throughout the day.
At the time of writing it’s not available on BBC iPlayer, but it’s sure to turn up on your TV sooner or later.
It’s your first evening in Venice, and you’ve booked dinner at Al Zucca, ten minutes walk from your hotel. You’ve been there before, you fancy a drink first, but you can’t remember anywhere on the way to the restaurant. There’s a street in the other direction where you know there’s a simple pizzeria on the corner, with a well stocked bar, so you set off.
As you approach, there’s the sound of lively conversation that grows louder as you get closer, and it’s not coming from the pizza place.
Turning the corner, there’s a tiny new bar, and it’s buzzing. On one side it opens onto the calle, inside is the bar: a glass cabinet of cicheti, some bottles of wine, and a display of your favourite bitters above. There are two bar stools, a couple of barrels outside, and that’s about it.
‘Un spritz al Cynar, con prosecco, grazie’
There are two guys behind the bar, the service is friendly, and so are the prices:
A spritz is €2.50, or €3.50 con prosecco – a generous pour over ice, topped up with prosecco and a splash of soda. They have Cynar and Select, as well as the usual Campari and Aperol.
You prefer wine? €1 for un ombra, or €2.50 for un calice, a proper glass. Cicheti are €1.50 a piece.
The seemingly never-ending pour
We enjoyed it so much, we went back for a drink after dinner….
‘Later that night’
In fact, we were back the next morning too, for coffee this time, although there were spritzes lined up on the bar by 11am.
The morning spritz, Cip & Ciop
Demographic: all ages, from a babe in arms upwards; a mix of visitors and locals.
Playlist: energetic salsa.
What’s it called? Cip e Ciop. In English, that’s pronounced (approximately) ‘Chip Eh Chop’. None the wiser, I looked it up; apparently they are Disney cartoon characters, two chipmunks whose names translate as ‘Chip ‘n’ Dale’.
Where to find it: the closest Vaporetto stop is Riva di Biásio on the Grand Canal; it’s the first stop from the train station, which explains the flow past the bar of visitors with luggage. Turn right off the vaporetto stop, until you have to turn left into Calle del Pistor, and Cip e Ciop is on the corner of Lista dei Bari.
I’d say you can’t miss it, but this being Venice, of course you can….
Acqua Alta comes as no surprise to Venetians in November, it’s an annual phenomenon; an irritation, an inconvenience to be dealt with stoically by the residents and businesses of the city.
This year, as we now know, it was a disaster on a scale unprecedented since 1966. Many restaurants and shops were forced to close by the flood on the night of November 12th. The water subsided, only to be followed by a second high tide a couple of days later, then a torrential downpour.
As I write this on 17th November, BBC Radio News is reporting a third flood.
Osteria Bancogiro
One of the restaurants affected by Acqua Granda is Osteria Bancogiro, on the fringe of Rialto market, within sight of the bridge and the Grand Canal.
Just over a month ago I was in Venice. We usually visit Bancogiro to sit at the bar with a selection of their chicheti, but on a warm and sunny day in October it seemed a good idea to have lunch at a table outside.
Bancogiro from the terrace
Instead of choosing from the display of snacks in the counter, we were presented with a printed menu. In a moment of innocence I ordered the Antipasto Misto di Pesce, expecting the typical Venetian restaurant plate of baccala (salt cod), prawns, cannochie shrimp, cuttlefish roe etc.
What arrived was an antipasto with a Bancogiro twist – a tasting tour on a plate, helpfully guided by our waiter:
‘From the bottom right, anticlockwise’
Prawns in tomato sauce on cream cheese. Octopus and aubergine on polenta, drenched with olive oil. Baccala mantecato on warm black polenta. A generous pile of smoked tuna, infused with orange zest. Sweet pepper stuffed with soft cheese. Sarde in Saor.
Antipasto misto di pesce
Lunch was accompanied by an equally varied soundscape: the sounds of the engines of traffic from the canal, the hammering of builders restoring the roof of a palazzo on the far side, and the cries of seagulls scavenging debris from the fish market.
There was a moment of serious balcony envy, as we looked up and realised there was someone else enjoying lunch, followed by a spot of sun worship.
Balcony envy
As we enjoyed a coffee, someone at a neighbouring table was already contemplating
‘Spritz o’clock’
Spritz o’clock
Bancogiro closed the day after Acqua Alta; they were defiantly open again a day later.
In the following days, there have been many images in news and social media as the unsung heroes of Acqua Alta have quietly got on with the business of pumping, mopping and cleaning up after the waters subsided, and in some cases opening for business even if they have been up to their knees, or higher, in water.
As a small tribute to these heroes, here are some of their Instagram tags, where you will find images of citizens of all ages, doggedly trying to restore normality to their homes, churches and businesses:
On Instagram, you’ll find the team outside osteriabancogiro up to their knees but grinning, sharing ‘that glass of wine, that slice of fennel salame, a hug between friends who share a difficult moment’
cantinaschiavi is more succinct: ‘Honestly, it’s just a ****ing disaster’ – their shop floor underwater; a collapsed stack of sodden cases of wine.
But at venissa_tenuta on the island of Burano, a waiter is standing ready to greet you on the restaurant terrace with a bottle of Prosecco. He’s smiling.
The green floodwater nearly covers his waders, and the caption reads ‘Still positive’
On the morning of November 18th, the waters appear to have subsided….
HOW TO HELP VENICE AND THE VENETIANS AFTER THE ACQUA ALTA
Here’s a link to some sound advice from The Venice Insider:
Her Majesty the Queen owns the largest collection in the world of paintings by Canaletto. This was celebrated in November 2018 by an exhibition at The Queen’s Gallery, Buckingham Palace: Canaletto and the Art of Venice.
One of the events organised at the gallery was a conversation on Venice with art historian Andrew Graham Dixon and restaurateur Russell Norman.
When asked in the Q & A which painting in the room they would like to take home, Russell immediately laid his claim for a large canvas depicting the basilica of Santa Maria della Salute.
Andrew confessed that Canaletto, although a fine painter, was not his favourite. If he were to be transported back to the 18th century to meet him, his first question would probably be ‘what can you tell me about Caravaggio?’
Another questioner asked what the pair thought of the food scene in Venice today.
Andrew agreed with Russell that if you see a restaurant with linen tablecloths, each place set with two knives, two forks and two glasses….
‘Don’t go there’
Instead, Russell Norman made reference to Dalla Marisa, a Venetian institution. He recently described it as
“The cacophonous canteen that is Dalla Marisa.
32 seated inside and close to 60 outside (no women inside at all). Everything cooked by a kitchen brigade of two, who both look like they’re in their 70’s. One washer-upper and two waiters. Three choices of pasta & 3 choices of meat course (it’s famous for its carne, being situated next to the old abbatoir) There are international art dealers side-by-side with paint-splattered labourers, gondoliere, politicians and a few cops”.
Outdoor tables at Dalla Marisa on the Cannaregio Canal
It seemed churlish not to follow his advice
I had read that there’s a fixed price of €35 for three courses including wine. It was to be lunch before an evening flight, so we decided to go for it. While they take bookings, it was Monday and the weather was good, so we took the risk and turned up to take our chances. Arriving at 1pm it was busy, so we loitered optimistically by the door, and a table outside soon became available.
Inside it’s a busy dining room. At the back you can catch a glimpse of the chef in her domain, an elderly lady in a white jacket and equally elderly slippers. She emerged to talk to a table of eight regulars (with a woman in charge) about their order.
There’s no printed menu, but a blackboard at the entrance indicated a more attemptable lunch for €17.
The lunch menu, Dalla Marisa
We opted to order in Italian. Three choices of pasta were offered by the waitress, ‘today we have tomato, ragú, or (something or other) with Bresaola’.
We both chose the Ragú, and I asked for 1/4 Vino bianco, a 250cl carafe of white wine.
The pasta arrived quite quickly, but the wine needed a reminder.
Half a litre came; it would have been rude to complain
it was was slightly frizzante, with a good head of froth.
The froth subsiding rapidly on vino frizzante
The pasta were conchiglie, little shells that were the vehicle for the mildly seasoned, oily sauce.
Perfetto.
Pasta al Ragu
Next up, per secondo: “stew”, pork chop, steak, chicken cutlet, pork with wine.
The stew looked great on neighbouring tables, chunks of meat in a rich sauce, and the chicken was simple and good, hot from the grill.
Pollo grigliato
Contorni (vegetables on the side), a choice of chicory or peppers. The chicory was silky and savoury, the colour of the Cannaregio Canal.
Cicoria
We finished with two perfect espressi.
Towards the end of lunch, a grizzled ruffian shuffled out of the restaurant. I surmised he might be Marisa’s husband; bearded, with long hair, a crucifix earring and flip flops.
He picked up some leftover bread from a table, and threw it disconsolately into the canal for the gathering crowd of pigeons and gannets. He spent the next half hour or so ineffectually flapping his arms, trying to shoo them away when they inevitably came back for more.
A flapping contest
Russell Norman again:
‘The portions are huge and the wine on other tables seems to be bottomless (are these people going back to work?!) There is nowhere else quite like it in Venice or, indeed, beyond. I’ve heard that it, like so many Venetian institutions, is changing hands soon. I hope its philosophy and legacy remain…’
I like the Cannaregio Canal. The Guglie Vaporetto stop is on the Allilaguna route to the airport, and a few tourists stray from the Strada Nuova, but it feels like a working thoroughfare. There are no gondolas, there’s a small fish market by the canal, and a Jewish café is a clue to its proximity to the Venetian Ghetto (the first in the world).
Vaporetto on the Cannaregio Canal
Like Dalla Marisa, there’s something uncompromising about it. It’s a reminder of how Venice used to be.
Dalla Marisa
Da’a Marisa, Calle de la Canne, 652/B Cannaregio.
(near the Tre Archi bridge, Fondamenta San Giobbe)
Santa Croce is one of the sestiere of Venice, between Rialto and the railway station.
Arriving in Campo San Giacomo dell’ Orio in the early evening, you’ll encounter a microcosm of Venetian life. A few tourists pass through, but really it’s an urban village.
At its centre is the eponymous church. When the junior school is out, you’ll see boisterous children doing circuits of the little cluster of trees, on scooters, bikes and skates.
The race track, early evening
There’s a game of football being played, with the walls of the church and the Co-op supermarket acting as goals – when I was there it became clear that the boys were playing the girls, and the girls were winning….
There are three restaurants in the square, but my favourite haunt is Al Prosecco, a husband and wife operation, where they serve cicheti, and platters of cheese, salumi and smoked fish; perfect for a light lunch or an early evening aperitivo.
The Fondamenta Nuove is the transport interchange facing San Michele, the cemetery island of Venice. As you leave the vaporetto, there’s a florist on the corner of Calle dei Buranelli, leading to Calle del Fumo, the street of smoke.
Walking down the street, you might not notice an unassuming shop window with a display of business cards and other printed materials. If you pause for a moment to look more closely, you will recognise some familiar names, with their contact information discreetly omitted:
Hugh Grant, Ben Affleck, Emma Watson.
Step inside the door, and enter the world of Gianni Basso, Stampatore.
‘An armoury of fearless truth against whispering rumour’
If you engage Gianni Basso in conversation it becomes apparent that he understands more English than you might think. When he shows you examples of his work, he casually makes sure they are either for A-list film stars, or residents of prestigious addresses around the world.
Work in progress
He loves to drop names; he showed us a series of prints from an old edition of ‘Pinocchio’, “I make for Angelina Jolie to give her children”.
I imagine the Venice Film Festival is a busy time.
A working press
He frequently drops the name Gutenberg, inventor of the hot metal printing press in the 15th century. There are several presses in use in the shop, and next door is Gianni’s museum, which he will show you if you’re interested, and he has time.
The museum next door – ‘crossroads of civilisation’
He’ll show you an ‘Ex Libris’ label with a cat motif that he printed for the writer Joseph Brodsky, saying wistfully that, like many of his former clients, ‘he is on the cemetery island’.
There are chests of drawers containing metal type, and a wide selection of images to choose from.
It’s a fascinating shop, and the work is exquisite.
Prints and cards for sale
We were there on a Friday morning to re-order some business cards. Usually a print run will take several days to turn round, and they don’t open at weekends. Gianni asked ‘when are you leaving?’ Our flight was due to leave on the following Monday, and he offered to have the cards ready by midday on that day, to save posting them.
Gianni Basso, happy in his work
As I checked the flight time on my mobile phone, he murmured ‘I don’t have one of those’. He doesn’t have a computer either, and the phone in the shop is a 1950s Bakelite model.
His son, Stefano, joined the business eight years ago. He takes care of email, but they don’t have a website. Gianni has had the shop for thirty-six years, after learning his trade for fifteen years from the monks of the Armenian monastery on the island of San Lazzaro.
The Armenian monastery, San Lazzaro
Gianni Basso Imprimatore, Calle del Fumo, Cannaregio 5306, Venezia
There’s something democratic about this city without cars. No-one can hide behind the anonymity of a windscreen, so the chances are you will know your fellow passengers on the vaporetto by sight, at the very least. Lawyers and professors share the same transport system as plumbers and market traders. The same is true if you visit bàcari, the archetypal Venetian bars (and no, neither Harry’s Bar nor the cocktail bar at the Gritti Palace is a bàcaro).
Vaporetto No 1: walking the dog, and checking for messages.
On a recent four night stay we were revisiting four restaurants for dinner, so during the day we made a habit of visiting a bàcaro (or two) for a light lunch, between ‘feasting’ on a banquet of Tintoretto.
Bàcari usually have a glass cabinet of snacks on the counter; cichèti (in Veneziano) or chicchètti (Italiano) are usually slices of crunchy baguette, sometimes warm, which brings the flavours of the toppings to life, especially the silky Lardo (cured pork fat).
They’re much the same as Pinchos from Spain; sometimes you see them described as “a Venetian take on Tapas”, but I would be careful where you say that….
On the bar at Al Timon, Cannaregio
These are ten of my favourites, listed by Sestiera:
Around Rialto
BANCOGIRO
The bar takes its name from the first public merchant bank, founded here in 1600.
There’s a restaurant upstairs, and tables outside overlooking the Grand Canal.
Playlist: The Kinks greatest hits.
Campo San Giacometto, Ponte di Rialto, 122, 30125
Vaporetto: Rialto Mercato.
Bancogiro
Inside Bancogiro, (out of season)
AL MERCÀ – is a tiny hole-in-the-wall place at the side of the food market; there’s barely room for the staff to work behind the bar.
Campo Bella Vienna, San Polo 213. Vaporetto: Rialto Mercato
Al Merca’
ALL’ ARCO
Locals stand at the bar chatting to the owner, who seemed to be doing a quality control check on a magnum of something interesting when we visited. Venice is a small city, so you start to recognise characters you’ve seen before.
Tourists treat All’ Arco like a buffet, choosing a full plate which they take to the little tables and chairs in the alley outside.
All’ Arco: Piovra (octopus) and Baccala alla Vicentina
Playlist: animated conversation, with a little showing off.
Campo dell’Ochialer, San Polo 436. Vaporetto: Rialto Mercato
All’ Arco
I RUSTEGHI
This tiny bar tucked away on the San Marco side of the Rialto Bridge, serves top quality cichèti, see my separate post here: https://wp.me/p7AW4i-xy
Playlist: Dylan, early and late periods.
Corte del Tentor, San Marco 5513 Vaporetto: Rialto.
San Polo
ADAGIO Caffè & Wine bar
Well placed if you’re visiting the Frari, or on your way to the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, it’s in a corner of the Campo dei Frari behind the church. It wouldn’t look out of place as a Patisserie and Salon du Thé in Paris, but actually serves well-priced cicchèti (€1 – 1.50), glasses of wine for around €4, and a well-made macchiato.
Playlist: Otis Redding, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Bruce Springsteen. And Dylan.
Calle del Scaleter, 3028, 30125 Vaporetto: San Tomà
Adagio Caffe & Wine Bar
BASEGÓ
where a cool young crowd mingles with older ne’er-do-wells over Spritz and good snacks.
Calle del Scaleter, 2863, 3012 Vaporetto: San Tomà
Playlist: Electro. ‘Dance’. That sort of thing.
Bacaro Basego
Castello
EL RÉFOLO – a small, hip bar on via Garibaldi, knocking out Aperol, Cynar and Campari spritz in serious quantities…. Tue – Sat 11am – 11.30pm
Via Garibaldi, Castello 1580. Vaporetto: Arsenale.
A glass and a snack at Vini al Bottegon, a wine shop on Fondamenta Nani. Stand outside with a glass and cicchetti, prepared by the redoubtable Sandra.
There’s no playlist; just the three brothers selling bottles of wine.
Ponte San Trovaso, Dorsoduro 992. Vaporetto: Accademia.
THE RED CAFFÈ
Campo Santa Margharita is a rambling square of bars and cafes which stay open late, especially in the summer. The happening place is The Red Caffe, popular with students.
Dorsoduro 2963. Vaporetto: Cà Rezzonico.
Cannaregio
On winter nights, instead of Santa Margharita, head for the Fondamenta della Misericorderia and Fondamenta dei Ormesini for an aperitivo or a late drink.
Fondamenta della Misericordia
VINO VERO
This small bar, popular with the local crowd, serves natural wines with cicchetti. “No Spritz! (we love wine)”.
Vino Vero, Cannaregio
Fondamenta della Misericordia, Cannaregio 2497. Closed Monday.
Vaporetto: S. Alvise; Orto; San Marcuola Casino.
AL TIMON
This trattoria has a lively bar in its main dining room, and even livelier cutomers by the canal outside!
Cicheti at Al Timon
Playlist: lively conversation into the small hours.