Top 10 favorite Venice restaurants I can be spotted at

Ah, Venice...

Don't you sigh every time you think of Venezia? I do.

I've been going to Venice ever since I was a toddler, eating seafood risotto straight our of my mother's plate, and then snatching the secret recipe for salsa universale at Harry's Bar at age 6. Venice has since become a regular appointment for me.

Every time I go back, I sigh. The sensual, languid and shimmering water element, the distant wail of the acqua alta high tide horn, the strange yet beloved stench of the marshy canal water, the overwhelming sensation of first biting into moeche soft shell crabs... The senses are all gratified in  Venice.

I recently had clients flee Venice, chased away from the crowds, the excessive prices, the outrageous cruise liners defacing the delicate ecosystem of the lagoon. I get it.
That's why Venice should not be visited in August. The best time to visit Venice is in the off season, that is between January and April/May. This may translate into experiencing acqua alta (a tide phenomenon that peaks whenever the astronomical tides are reinforced by winds) and thick blankets of fog envelop the canals, adding to the city’s innate romantic and mysterious charm. I highly recommend avoiding booking your Venice trio during film festival days, Carnevale, Christmas and July/August.

When I go, a big part of my time in Venice is spent seated at restaurants. I like to discover new ones, and rely on steadfast classics. I know I will in some cases spend a little over my budget, but I can also enjoy a gargantuan meal without breaking the bank. Let's break this cliché: not everything in Venice is outrageously expensive. I don't like spending a fortune on a passable meal, I want to be wowed by a phenomenal one, and am ready to pay for it. So I can alternate paying a bigger check with extending aperitivo with cicchetti (tapas-like snacks) and ombre (small glasses of wine) standing at the counter of a bacaro.

Here are the top 10 favorite Venice restaurants you'll find me at, off season,

Antiche Carampane

Occupying the bottom level of what used to be a brothel, this sensational restaurant is one of the city’s best. This is not a place you can chance upon. As a matter of fact, you'll most probably get lost getting there. But that's the charm of Venice, where even the locals get lost in their own city. Depending on season, I order gnocchi with granseola (European spider crab) and any fresh fish in the daily specials menu. If you're lucky enough to find them available, please have the "drunken" reef mullets gently poached in red wine.

Ca' d'Oro - Alla Vedova

This classic bacaro-restaurant is in the Cannareggio sestiere, one of the six quarters of the city. Much loved by Venetians for its vintage setting, tiled floors, bent wood chairs and brass pans on the walls, and for the Venetian classics on the menu. I come not to sit at the tables in back, but rather to stand at the front of the house, sipping on my ombra and munching on the house fried meatballs. 

Oliva Nera

Isabella is a friend. She and her late husband Dino––one of the kindest people I knew––kept me warm and fed during one particularly nasty acqua alta incident back in 2005, during filming Casanova. Our friendship was sealed over a plate of fried stuffed zucchini blossoms and dessert.

Osteria Ai Assassini

This is an informal eatery, rustic and off the tourist radar––despite being in the San Marco quarter––not far from the traps and high rolling venues. Their "poker di baccalà" is a game-changer. The owner speaks very little English, but he's completely fluent in French. 

Algiubagiò

With tables set on a deck with views of the vast open lagoon, the islands and the snowy peaks of the Dolomites in the far background, at Algiubagiò I like to linger with my coffee after scarfing the lobster with ginger, served with lentils and jerusalem artichoke velouté.

Trattoria Da Fiore

Note: This trattoria is not to be confused with the overly expensive "Fiore" restaurant located one alley over. I come here for a relaxing dinner, or for classic cicchetti appetizers in the front room bacaro, the likes of steamed artichoke heels, fied anchovies and mini-meatballs.  The sit-down menu features Venetian classics, like sarde in saor (pickled sardines), baccalà mantecato (creamed cod) and moeche (very narrow seasonal window). But they also serve lesser known local dishes like bigoli which are thick homemade noodles, normally dressed with a simple sauce of onions and anchovies, and my favorite: linguine al nero di seppia (black cuttlefish ink). Close the meal with the house sgroppino.

Al Gatto Nero

Located on the island of Burano, this family-run ristorante offers top-notch seafood and elegant service in the home-like dining room or at canal-side tables outside. Signor Ruggero, who took the kitchen over in 1965, still cooks with his wife Lucia with the same passion and emotion of when they were in their 20s. Order the best fried calamari of your life, the house risotto, and continue with the trio of crustaceans au gratin. You can thank me later.

Anice Stellato

This is a local's favorite, so be sure to make a reservation. Small and family-run, this place is where I come for sublime modern seafood cuisine. Think tagliatelle with scampi and zucchini blossoms; spaghetti with moeche and cherry tomatoes. Mains depend also on the catch of the day and may feature baked skate with ground hazelnuts and almonds or the classic assorted fish fry with vegetables thrown in the batter. Leave room for dessert, especially if the pistachio flan with coffee gelato on the side.

Trattoria Dai Tosi (Piccoli)

As soon as the first ray of sun pierces through the clouds, the folks at Dai Tosi Piccoli (not to be mistaken with the nearby namesake, if in doubt, ask around for directions to Dai Tosi Piccoli) put out tables in the laundry-festooned street. Located in a residential area of Venice, this place is great for pizza, simple plates of pasta and vegetable sides.

Vini da Gigio

Dining in the refined trattoria run by siblings Paolo and Laura, is like walking into dinner at their home, with the added bonus of super professional service and a stellar wine list. Menu musts are the rigatoni with duck ragù and ravioli filled with arugula. The seafood mains are good, but the meat dishes steal the show. The red peppercorn steak, and sautéed lamb fillet with a light, crusty coating are both in my little red book. Book a table for late lunch or for the 9:00PM sitting in the evening, to avoid the rush.

What are your favorite restaurants in Venice?

Weekend in Venice, Italy

Located in the marshy Veneto lagoon – which stretches along the Adriatic shoreline between the mouths of the Po and the Piave River deltas – the incredible city of Venice is admired and loved for the beauty of its unique setting, particular architecture, and immense body of artwork.
Listed as a World Heritage Site along with its vast surrounding lagoon, Venice is by all means a tourist magnet. Which is why I'd like to draw attention to the city's lesser known aspects. I'm sharing a few insider tips so that weekend travelers can avoid the stereotypes and clichés La Serenissima is most known for worldwide.
Take advantage of the fact that the busy tourist season has not fully picked up yet. Hop on a train from Rome, Milan or Florence and hit the lagoon for 48 hours in the most romantic city in the world. Here are a few practical tips.

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Carpaccio recipe from Harry's Bar, Venice

Carpaccio was for a long time the most popular dish served at Harry’s Bar in Venice. It is named after Vittore Carpaccio, the Venetian Renaissance painter known for his use of brilliant reds and whites in the minute detail of his infinite perspective landscapes.

Giuseppe Cipriani, the Bar's historic owner, invented and named the dish in reference to the Venetian painter, because the colors of the dish reminded him of his paintings. It was 1950, the year of the great Carpaccio exhibition in Venice.

The Harry's Bar Carpaccio dish was inspired by capricious Contessa Amalia Nani Mocenigo, a local regular at Harry's Bar. Her doctor had put her on a strict diet recommending she eat only raw meat.

The original Harry's Bar delicacy is still made by covering a plate with the thinnest possible slices of raw beef and garnishing them with a secret dressing that is drizzled over the beef in a crosshatch, Kandisnsky-style pattern. It is proverbially called the "universal sauce."

I was raised on a strict Harry's Bar diet of Carpaccio and Risotto Primavera, myself. Those were the days when going to Venice for the weekend was a given, and money wasn't an issue. The source of our family's financial ease was the talented work and infinite generosity of my grandfather Vittorio De Sica.

My fondest memories of him are not glamourous, nor show business-related, they are personal. The vivid images and toasted coffee aroma of our Sunday afternoons spent together still linger in my mind when I think of him. Nonno would nap after having lunch with us, wrapped in a brown cashmere plaid throw, lying on the day bed in what later became my bedroom. I'd be the one to wake him, softly tiptoeing in the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a small demitasse of espresso, which he'd sip quietly. 

The bottom of the cup was my prize, a tiny ring of coffee-tinted sugar that had not quite melted. I'd draw the drapes open and we'd play for a half hour, during which I would frequently show him my latest dance coreographies. My clumsy pirouettes, that would usually land me on my rear end, would obviously make him chuckle, but he never showed it, giving my performance the professional judgement of an unbiased director. Nonno would often tell me where to improve or applaud the less disastrous ones. Then he'd leave, cloaked in his grey flannel suit, elegant and smelling of blue Pantène hair cologne and weathered leather, like his gloves. A wink and a smile on the doorstep and he was gone, 'til the following week.

My grandfather's successful career ended too soon. Cinema lost one of its greatest modern film making artists in 1974 to lung cancer, and my playful Sunday afternoons with Nonno were no more.

with mom and Nonna Titta on the Grand Canal

I don't care if I don't go to Venice for the weekend any more. I've never been a fool for fancy clothes or elegant hotels. I love to travel and eat, and I still do that, on a shoestring. And since I could charm my way through a restaurant kitchen from age five, I managed to snatch the secret Carpaccio recipe. For free.

1.3 kg (3 lb) beef sirloin, whole
3/4 cup homemade mayonnaise
1–2 tsp Worcestershire sauce, adjust quantity to taste
1 tsp fresh lemon juice
2–3 tbsp whole milk
Salt and freshly ground white pepper

First of all, make the carpaccio "universal sauce," which is the focal point of this dish. The above-mentioned quantities yield about 250 ml (1 cup). Any leftover can last about 3 days, stored chilled in a closed container.

Put the mayonnaise in a bowl and add the Worcestershire sauce and lemon juice, and blend with a whisk.

Add enough milk to thin the sauce, so it just barely coats the back of a dry wooden spoon. Taste and adjust seasoning, with more Worcestershire sauce and/or lemon juice if necessary.

OK, now the tricky part.

According to tradition, the best carpaccio is made with beef sirloin, and the flavorful meat must never be frozen before slicing. Of course it's easier to slice barely thawed beef, but we're not taking any shortcuts today.

Carpaccio can also be made with beef tenderloin filet, which has a milder flavor than sirloin and is much easier to handle. Ask the butcher to trim the meat for you. You may even be able to convince him to slice it, but do so only if you plan to serve your carpaccio an hour or 2 later, tops.

If you decide to slice the meat yourself, please be careful, I nearly lost a fingertip once.

Trim every bit of fat, gristle, sinew from the sirloin, leaving a small cylinder of tender, lean meat.

Chill the meat for 30 minutes, then using a long-bladed razor-sharp knife, slice the meat paper-thin and arrange the slices on individual salad plates, covering the surface completely. Makes about six servings. Some folks like to sprinkle some shaved Parmigiano at this point. I don't, preferring to maintain the flavors and simplicity intact.

Drizzle the universal sauce decoratively over the meat, and serve immediately.

I quite like this with a properly stored Valpolicella: light in body, low in tannin, and redolent of tart red cherries.

Buon appetito.

Risi e Bisi recipe

We're talking gourmet comfort food. This is a rich Venetian springtime soup made with the slow cooked technique needed for making risotto, and freshly harvested tender baby peas. I learned how to make Risi e Bisi during one crazy edition of Regata Storica, a few years back. Venezia's historic scull race aboard vintage gondolas, mascarete, sandali and other beautifully ornate antique boats, annually falls on the first Sunday in September, usually messing up Film Festival boat traffic, and leaving stars and publicists stranded on the Lido peer, hopelessly waiting for their Riva motorboat taxi.

The entire city of Venice and inhabitants of the six sestieri wards infact forget all divas and snob cinema flair, participating instead in loud hollering cheers, drinking and unplanned diving in canals from parked boats, madly rooting for their colorful team of upright rowers.

Here's the risi e bisi basics, as handed down by Angelo, the gondolier who kissed me:

1 onion
50 g (1/4 cup) pancetta, finely minced
400 g (2 cups/14 oz) Arborio or Vialone Nano rice
70 g (1/3 cup) extra virgin olive oil
70 g (1/3 cup) unsalted butter
1.5 kg (3.3 lbs) fresh baby peas, unshelled Note: don't discard the shells!
Freshly grated Parmigiano

Begin making a green pea broth by cooking the saved shells of the peas in lightly salted water and then saving the strained liquid. For a richer outcome, Angelo suggests to boil the pea shells in chicken broth instead of water.

Finely slice the onion and sauté it in oil and butter with the pancetta in a large pot.

When the onion tans, add 1 handful of rice + 1, per each person, and cook, stirring constantly. Do this until the rice is translucent (about 5 minutes).

Here comes the fun part: add the green pea broth one ladle at a time, stirring constantly. When you see the rice has given off some starch and looks half done, add the peas.

When the rice is al dente, remove the pot from the stove, stir in una noce di burro (a gob of butter the size of a walnut) and a few tablespoons of grated Parmigiano. The recipe calls for flecks of flatleaf parsley, but if you've been reading this blog long enough, you'll know I'm not super keen on the herb.

In this recipe the rice should be cooked all'onda (behaving like a wave), in other words creamy and moist, rather than pudding-like firm, like regular risotto. You eat it with a spoon rather than a fork...

Image © Rachel Roddy

Spritz

In Veneto, drinking Spritz is not only aperitivo, it's more of an appointment. Gathering for a Spritz is an opportunity to meet, chat, gossip and laugh in good company. Spritz is a lifestyle. And an excellent excuse to go hang out in the bar at sundown, when everybody looks pretty.

Image source Spritzlandia

Spritz is a simple drink, whose roots date back to the Austrian occupation of northeastern Italy; Austrian incumbents of the Veneto and Friuli-Venezia Giulia regions regarded wine as too strong a drink and in an attempt to lighten it, diluted it with water. The battling local Veneto folk, in order to restore some vivacity back to the beverage, responded by adding liquor to the new Hapsburgic solution. That’s how Spritz was first invented and how it got its Austrian name, which roughly translates to injection/addition.

Image copyright Nan McElroy

The orange-hued alcoholic beverage native to lagunar lands - but now commonly enjoyed all over northern Italy, including the regions of Emilia Romagna and Lombardia - is commonly also named Spriss, Spriz or Sprisseto. I have worked and lived some portions of my professional life on the road in northern Italy and I have compiled a Spritz Tour Catalog of choice bars and cafes where I have enjoyed the best Spritz in Italy. 

Among them Padova's consolidated Spritz shrine in Piazza delle Erbe and the Padova Ghetto; or Campo Santa Margherita in Venice; Porta San Tommaso in Treviso; the area around Piazza Matteotti in Udine; Piazza delle Erbe in Verona; Piazza dei Signori in Vicenza; the lighthouse beach and numerous cafes along Via Bafile in Jesolo Lido; the gorgeous Piazza Unità d'Italia in Trieste; at the Bar Roma in San Donà di Piave; Piazza Libertà in Bassano del Grappa; Piazza Giorgione in Castelfranco Veneto; beneath the Loggia dei Grani in Montebelluna; Asolo's Caffè Centrale; in the chic locales that dot Corso Italia in Cortina d'Ampezzo; Piazza Cima in Conegliano Veneto. Or in my beloved Chioggia, where traditionally Spritz is enjoyed in osterie along the snaking canals, paired with spit roasted fish called "scòta deo", which means 'finger-burning'.



There is no unambiguous composition for Spritz, rather city variations on the local barman's own whim. A common denominator in the varieties offered is however the presence of dry white wine and sparkling water or seltzer/club soda, whose quantities have to at least be 40% to 30%; the remaining 30% can be completed by a myriad of alcoholic alternatives; granted their mixture maintain the drink's signature bright orange color. Alcoholic grading is therefore variable, but should not exceed 15°. Here's how I like to make Spritz.

40% dry white wine
30% soda water
30% Aperol bitter

Some make Spritz with Campari instead of Aperol, a bit too bitter for my happy hour palate. I prefer classic Aperol, which gives the drink a sweeter yet peppery taste. This brand produces a new popular ready-made mix called Aperol Spritz.

But I rather like to make it myself and serve it on the rocks with an orange wedge, accompanied by frittata squares, fried polpette meatballs, artichoke heels, polenta sticks, and other cicchetti-like goodies.

I love cocktail hour, don't you?

Salute!

Bellini cocktail recipe

After all that hard work canning tomatoes,  and the energy spent scarfing Ferragosto fare, I thought we deserved a little reward.

I'm making a popular treat for us.
It combines elements I have spoken about earlier in these virtual pages...

The city of Venice...


...and peaches.

Can you guess what it is?

Today's recipe is for cocktails.
Let's make decadent and refreshing Bellini.

Image copyright rfarmer

Courtesy of Champagne Resource:
The Bellini was originally poured in Venice at a famous place called Harry's Bar. Created by Guiseppe Cipriani in 1931, the Bellini's delicate flavor is still popular more than 75 years later. Harry’s Bar was named after co-owner Harry Pickering, an American millionaire. Guiseppe, a bartender at a Venice hotel, took a leap of faith when he loaned a patron, Harry Pickering, 1,000,000 lire (at the time worth $5,000) after Pickering had been financially cut off by his family. For his generosity, Pickering repaid Giuseppe $25,000 two years later and together they opened Harry's Bar.

The Bellini quickly became the signature drink at Harry’s Bar, though it was not officially called the Bellini until some time in 1948, when it was named in honor of the artist, Giovanni Bellini. This drink uses fresh peaches and an Italian sparking wine called Prosecco. It's a little known fact that there is no actual Champagne in a traditional Bellini. While Prosecco is a light and effervescent wine, its sturdy bubbles actually hold up well against the fruit’s pulp. Since high quality vintage champagne tends to have extremely small bubbles, many believe that utilizing vintage champagne will result in an inferior Bellini.

Image copyright iessi

To make this mind-blowing cocktail you will need:
1 small white peach per person
4 oz Prosecco sparking wine per person
champagne flutes
shaker
blender/food processor
freezer

Slice the peaches vertically, peel and remove the flesh from the pits. Whir the slices in the blender or food processor to obtain a frothy puree. While many naively believe that a can of peach nectar can be used, this should only be a last minute option. There is truly no substitute for the complexity of flavors that emerge from the fresh fruit.

Put the peach puree in a shaker or a beer mug, and place it in the freezer until it is thoroughly chilled, but not frozen solid. Pour the cold Prosecco into the chilled puree and stir gently. Once well blended, pour the mixture into champagne flutes and garnish with your lips.

A song about Venice

It's been 3 years since my last time with old Venice. It's time to go back.

Venice is like an aging prostitute. The kajal around her eyes is bleeding and her dress is tattered, but her sensuality and bohemian manner are intoxicating still. I am a slave to her hypnotic charms. Getting lost in Venezia's sage-green fog, winding calle alleys and mysterious secrets is exhilarating.

Venice is a reward for the senses. Her beauty is breathtaking, decadent and Byzantine. And then there is that smell. The smell of Venice is like no other place in the world. One needs to get used to it, then it becomes a drug. The best season in the most beautiful city made by man is winter. No crowds, no tourists, no noise. Just the sound of languid canal water lapping the sides of the gondola, the distant wailing horn that announces high tide and the mystique hidden inside the fascinating buildings lined in frayed rich damask brocades.

A brisk morning walk across the Accademia Bridge, a long glance from la Salute, taking in the lagoon and a few minutes spent watching a man repair a boat on the side of a hidden canal are enough to replete lost bliss. All I want is simply walk and walk, lose my direction and then relax with a couple of ombre (shot-sized stem glasses of chilled dry, white wine) in anticipation of one of the day’s multiple delicious meals. The most common feeling in Venice is that of a mild inebriation: a full scale city-induced Stendhal Syndrome. Too much beauty can do that.