It’s an unfortunate truth but in a city literally overflowing with water, tourists, and restaurants it can be difficult to find that genuinely authentic Venetian eating experience. The places you hear about, where the gondoliers allegedly eat, are the stuff of legend. I’ve been to Venice about 20 times and I’ve yet to stumble upon tables of lads in striped tops, chewing the fat over their lunch. Truth be told they don’t want to be found. The last thing they need is a pair of Brits interrupting their downtime with awkward questions about whether the risotto features squid ink. Venice likes to keep tourists where they think they really belong and that’s why the pizza and pasta restaurants, especially those with a romantic canal side setting, are always busy.
It’s a familiar scenario. You’re hungry and on your way somewhere else when you walk past tables of diners enjoying delicious looking plates of familiar fare. There’s a free table in a great spot and you’ve already forgotten about going anywhere else because the smell of the pizza oven is irresistible. It’s great pizza. Terrific pasta but somehow, not completely satisfying because you can eat it anywhere. Venice doesn’t give up its more interesting dining secrets easily and the adventurous eater needs some determination to unearth them.
This endeavour has become a little easier since several TV chefs have made a career out of highlighting some of the previously little known authentic Venetian restaurants. One restaurant in particular, Antiche Carampane, attracts so many visitors through this kind of publicity it actually has a notice in the window warning hapless tourists, ‘No Pizza, No Lasagne, No Tourist Menu.’ It was pointed out to me quite aggressively when I first made a booking.
I spent many years studying Italian at evening classes, principally so I could eat my way round Italy with some knowledge of the language and culture. Venice is the only city where all my efforts have proved useless. For very understandable reasons, I’ve come to believe the Venetians cannot bear to hear anyone mangling their beautiful language. Whenever I dare to open my mouth, the reply is usually in perfect English which is a real knock to the budding linguist’s confidence and dispels any illusions I might have that my glaringly obvious tourist status is invisible. Not a hope. So, the idea that I could ever walk into a bar full of locals and order my cicchetti of choice, like they do, just seemed too intimidating to even contemplate. However, through prior research on YouTube and some assistance from Venetian nobility I made a breakthrough on this trip.
Cicchetti, pronounced (chi-ket-tee) are the tastiest of Venetian snacks, eaten at any time of the day and usually enjoyed with a glass of wine or the ubiquitous Aperol spritz. Some liken them to tapas, but this is inaccurate. Not all tapas is finger food. The important thing about cicchetti is that they can be picked up and eaten – the most common are small rounds of toasted bread, generously loaded with a meat, seafood, vegetable, or cheese-based topping. Seasoned and oiled, fragrant with herbs, the best of these appear so simple but leave you wondering how they pack so much flavour into every morsel. Deep fried meat or rice balls, even little open topped savoury pies can also be offered, depending on the speciality and imagination of the particular bar.
That I know this is entirely down to the TV presenter and historian Francesco da Mosto. Count da Mosto’s programmes on Venice are often filmed in and around the family’s Renaissance palazzo, where centuries before his distinguished ancestors made their mark as merchants and explorers. Interestingly, the fearless British chef Rick Stein relied on Francesco’s superior knowledge for his own programme on Venetian delicacies and it was an extract from this on YouTube that proved so informative on cicchetti.
In the programme Francesco takes Rick to his local bar, All’Arco, one of the most famous in Venice. On a previous trip I recall being taken there for a pre-dinner snack by a knowledgeable friend but either I wasn’t paying enough attention, or she helpfully chose for us, so I didn’t see the options. Needless to say, when we went back this time, we unwittingly turned up on a day All’Arco was closed and the next day the queue to get in was too long. Undeterred we scouted out the nearby competition and the eating experience at IL Sigillo was so good we went back twice, although at 11am it was tea we wanted with our snacks rather than wine. The proprietor was exactly as you would expect. Round, jolly, heavily moustached and overseeing a window full of mouth-watering, freshly made cicchetti. He had the radio up at full volume and was also singing along so any attempt at language was rendered pointless. Sign language sufficed. Our sharing plate was warmed under the grill and carefully portioned so we both had a taste of spicy salami, creamy mozzarella, juicy aubergine, salty prosciutto, and peppery olive oil. A very satisfying late breakfast.
The Venetian lagoon and the famous Rialto fish market ensure super fresh seafood is a staple of the local cuisine, but two specialities famously feature preserved fish, a hangover from ancient times when sailors on long expeditions relied on the ability to treat fish with salt or vinegar to keep it wholesome. Baccalà mantecato, widely available where cicchetti are served, is salted poached cod, whipped with olive oil to a creamy spread and piled onto grilled bread or toasted polenta. Utterly delicious. Another Venetian signature dish is Sarde in Saor a sweet/sourcombination of sardine fillets, onions, pine nuts, raisins, and vinegar. We tried both of these at the high end Pensione Wildner, close to the San Zaccaria vaporetto stop, where they serve their sardines with sauerkraut and the prices reflect the heritage and location. It was well worth it for this and the traditional Spaghetti alle Vongole e Bottarga (spaghetti with clams and seasoned with mullet roe).
My guidebooks on Venice are stuffed full of business cards and receipts from previous visits to places we might want to return to. It’s fun to see if they are as good as we remember or even if we can find them again, so I usually bring them with me. The first time we went to Trattoria da Fiore we sat at high stools at the open window, watching the daytime crowds walk by. It was hot. We would have had a glass of wine, but I don’t recall what we ate. Perhaps we didn’t eat at all, but I kept the card all the same and this time around we fancy dinner. There is a table for two at the back of the restaurant next to a young Italian couple. As soon as I see the menu I relax, secure in my choice. They will know how to make this for sure. Fegato alla Veneziana. It’s one of the finest dishes in the Venetian repertoire. The best calves liver, trimmed and cut into small slices, combined with buttery sweet, caramelised onions and served in a rich wine and vinegar sauce. This version is sweeter still as it includes green figs in the sauce. They must have known I was coming. This dish is often served with polenta. I don’t care for polenta and would have left it on the plate but luckily this comes with mashed potato to soak up all the velvety sauce. It’s heavenly. I glance across and see the young Italian couple have ordered the same as me. They look pretty happy too.
Bacarando is one of those places that it would be hard to stumble upon. You have to know it is at the end of a very unpromising alley. We only know where it is because several years ago we rented an apartment that almost backs onto it and probably a folder of information on this and other local restaurants was provided by the owner. Back then we ate al fresco in a little courtyard, unaware that inside, at the bar, the most amazing selection of cicchetti is rightly the main attraction. Deep filled open pies are the speciality of the house and the display is exceptional. We didn’t want to spoil our appetite for dinner, so we chose one to share between us with prawns and a pea puree. How we chose I don’t know. They all looked amazing. It was pouring down outside, and our little pie was packed in a takeaway bag. We found some shelter and tucked in. Oh my. Underneath the abundant topping were thin layers of seasoned, buttery potato, all held in place within a crisp pastry case. The prawns, the peas and the potato were just the best versions of themselves you can imagine, and it wasn’t measly. It was small but abundant! It was one of the best food experiences I have ever had – dripping wet and eaten in shared bites from a paper bag! We concluded we should have had one each. To misquote The Talented Mr Ripley, see Venice and pie. Next time. For now, onwards to Trieste.
