The book....
Wandering around the bookstore of the Museum of Modern Art, very little took my fancy or looked like a book I hadn’t seen at the airport. Until a little, square, brown cardboard cover caught my eye. Bound with black linen tape, and with a simple charcoal-esque drawing of a spoon standing up on its mermaid tail. ‘Venetian Cuisine’. The introduction goes through market shopping tips on choosing your fresh seafood, a Venetian specialty. The recipes are clear, straightforward, accompanied by wine recommendations and more charcoal sketches. The book feels lovely underhand, light enough to hold with just one and quite a stand out in the glossy, luridly colourful world of the modern cookbook. But it gets better. After purchasing the book, we discover they’re the coveted recipes of Al’Trieste, a Michelin Guided restaurant on the island of San Marco. Determined to dine there, we ask our penzione hostess, Maria, to call them for us. She in turn recognizes the publishing house; the owner lives in the same building, just floors above us. The response from Al Trieste (about our Saturday night impromtu plans) is that they are fully booked, but if we call back at 7pm, they may have something available for us.
The eyes...
Not wanting to take any chances, baffled by the possibility of explaining what we wanted in Italian, and fully aware from my restaurant-hostessing days of the power of showing up early with pitiful faces, we rocked up in person. Shining puppy-dog eyes in place, we pinch ourselves at having found the restaurant. Mum whispers to me as we’re standing in the doorway, “Tell them we have the cookbook, tell them we came here especially because we bought it today. Tell them it’s just two of us.” I turned to Mum, who’d obviously gotten used to me speaking French with our Italian hostess, and reminded her that I don’t ACTUALLY speak Italian, thus she was just as capable of saying that as I was!
Regardless, puppy-eyes won out and the waiter, in his IMPECCABLE English (and infinite wisdom) found us a table in the tiny space (just 20 people can be seated at any one time.) His product knowledge was incredibly, and he laughed when we said we only wanted to eat items from the cookbook: “Ahhh. You already know all of our secrets!!” To his immense credit, he eyeballed the menu (printed out fresh every day, based around the catches of the day) and took us through everything that was in the book.
The restaurant...
We watched people show up and get turned away, even some who had bookings, but had failed to confirm them. One American lady on her own tried valiantly to bully her way in, based of course on American customer-service principles. More fool her, she was swatted away and was NOT invited to come back in a few hours. The couple seated next to us had booked months in advance, and duly confirmed IN PERSON two days earlier.
The food...
My entrée was Pilgrims Scallops with peppermint and lemon (gorgeous tiny scallops, 15 of them!) Mum had mussels and razor calms with a fresh ginger broth. Her wine was white and fruity, mine was a refreshing rose. Main course was pumpkin puree ravioli with scampi sauce and baby shrimps. Mum’s was a simple grilled sole. The vegetables of the day, to my surprise and minor dismay, were served in quite a French style. Not a fresh, crisp, glossy salad of riddicio, artichoke heart, eggplant….nope. All buttery and well-cooked. Well, you win you win you win and then you lose some.
The dessert...
As for dessert, the only match up between availability and the book was Tiramisu (“pick me up”, as in “cheer me up”). Ah life’s hard when you HAVE to eat Tiramisu. I’ve come to it a little bit late in life, but the lusciousness of marsala soaked sponge, marscapone, chocolate sauce and dustings of cocoa is addictive. And this one was, officially, the best I’ve ever eaten. SOMEHOW the chocolate sauce was still liquid. And it came served with what they call sauce spoons, ie. Spatula-like spoons with angular edges so you can get them nice and close to the plate, scooping up every last sauce drizzle, sponge morsel and cocoa speck.
Perhaps the best I can hope for in the balance of life is that I have one of these on point moments for every few ‘betise’ I make. I think Ma may have even forgiven me for forgetting the guide book….
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