Italian lesson: scarlatto

I have already shown you this, La Serenissima’s splendid flag. I especially like its blood-red foundation, that particular color being my very favorite.

I recently learned that the recipe for the blazing scarlet (scarlatto) dye the Venetian Republic used for the signature color of her official buntings and draperies, as well as her flag, was once a fiercely guarded secret. To keep any would-be snoops away from the dyeworks, city fathers spread false rumors of terrifying hauntings and other horrors in the vicinity.

Lately I’ve had a small terror hanging around, haunting me: the possibility that I might not manage to find a way to stay here in Venice after September. No ghost could possibly cause me more sleeplessness!

I talked about this with a cool-headed Venetian friend, who reminded me that today I don’t really have any idea what will happen in this regard, good or bad, and many things could change between now and October. He suggested I have been stressing myself needlessly, worrying about something that might never even come to pass.

His colorful word for such an unfounded fear as mine: scarlatto.

Lost!

Even the missing pet flyers are more interesting here in La Serenissima.

Apparently Signor Fabio’s pappagallo cenerino (little ash-grey parrot) disappeared somewhere near the bus station. One wonders if Mr. F and his bird were headed out of town, or merely meeting someone else’s bus…

Guarding the turtles

Here’s a lion few Venice visitors ever see. From his leafy bower in the middle of a little pond on Viale Giuseppe Garibaldi, he stands guard over a few hundred turtles and some khaki-colored carp. So lush is his mini-jungle in summertime that one could easily miss him. I like his neutral attitude, his calm gaze (but I do wonder, what’s up with that Something About Mary hairstyle?).

When winter comes, somebody drains the pond and takes its inhabitants somewhere else. Most of the foliage falls away. Then, among the bare branches, the life-size lion can be seen in his entirety. And even though there are no water creatures to guard, he maintains the serene watch. If he misses the turtles, he doesn’t show it.

The rummage sale

This very unglamorous scene is my idea of great fun. It’s the weekly rummage sale of secondhand clothes and household linens at the mercato on Lido. Every Tuesday morning the truck brings in a fresh load of goodies. When the piles thin out, the ladies root around in their boxes and bring out a few more armloads of stuff. Almost anything here can be snatched up for a mere two euros (lined wool blazers and winter coats go for three to five euros). Occasionally the deal is even better – any two items for three euros.

I like to elbow my way in among the other bargain-hunters and see what I can dig up. Sometimes it can be quite a tussle – these Venetian dames don’t mess around when they’re shopping. You have to have a good eye and quick reflexes. There’s no try-on room or mirror, so your choices must be wiggled on over whatever you’re wearing, and you have to trust your fellow shoppers to tell you ‘si, bella’ or ‘no, no.’ More often than not I walk away empty-handed. But today – che buona fortuna! – I got myself a new linen sheath dress for under three bucks!

So far I’ve purchased that dress, a Levis jean skirt, four miniskirts (three of them lined!), a Swiss cotton/wool knitted chemise, a pearl-encrusted lace bustier, some hand-embroidered fabrics for making sachets, and a pair of mosquito net curtains for my apartment, all for less than twenty euros. See? Great fun!

At Florian

Yes, I know it’s hopelessly old-fashioned, stuck in the past, a dinosaur. I know it’s moldy and crumbling in places. I know it’s full of Euro-trash, and now Russia-trash. And I know it’s ridiculously over-priced. I know all that.

Still, sometimes on a warm, romantic evening, I have the sense that Florian, particularly its orchestra stand, is the very beating heart of La Serenissima herself. Two other orchestras compete with this one – three, if you count the one around the corner. But somehow they seem… less Venetian to me.

In part, there’s a historical reason for that. When the Austrians occupied Venice they preferred to frequent Quadri across the Piazza, so the Venetians rather pointedly gave all their business to the older Florian (the doors of which never closed for hundreds of years). From here they would politely listen as Quadri’s orchestra played Wagner’s overtures, but they always withheld their applause in subtle protest.

Nowadays I find Florian’s orchestra is just a bit more dignified, a bit less fawning than its rivals. It plays a little more opera and a little less Hollywood and Broadway (although all four orchestras have shamelessly over-the-top versions of New York, New York and My Heart Will Go On, as well as some gaudy tarantellas). As for me, I confess it here. When I catch a few notes of Con Te Partiro or Mi Mancherai coming from Florian, I always pause and listen. There under the stars, amid the Piazza’s draped arches, it’s enough to bring a tear.

Gelatomania

To slightly adjust Winston Churchill’s famous declaration, “If there is no gelato in Heaven, I will not go.” In my opinion, it just wouldn’t be Heaven without this heavenly treat.

Top quality Italian ice creams have very little air blended into them, so they have a more intense flavor. Their density gives them a richer “mouth feel” (that’s an industry term, not just something I made up), which makes them more satisfying (according to people who study such things). And the best makers are quite fussy about the quality of the foods and flavorings they use in their gelati. They shun artificial and out-of-season stuff. For these reasons alone, ice cream addicts – like myself – are just happier in Italy.

Let me make this a little more interesting for them. Here’s a tour of Venice’s most delightful gelati, organized by the sestieri (the six boroughs or counties of the city)…

Upon arrival, go straight to a chic new place in Castello called Riva Reno. The door sign just reads ‘gelato’ – small “g.” Usually you’ll find two chocolate choices (regular and dark) made with costly red cacao. You might also find saffron gelato speckled with sesame seeds. Try Contessa (hazelnut and almond with bits of amaretti and caramelized almonds), Mango Heera (fresh Indian mango with tangy yogurt), Alice Mascarpone (mascarpone with streaks of hazelnut praline called gianduja), or Leonardo (pinenut dotted with whole toasted pinenuts). I’m waiting to try Otello (chocolate zabaglione, Marsala wine, and little chunks of Barozzi torta cioccolata). I like the creative thinking here, and these pretty names, almost as much as the exceptional flavors and topnotch quality. These are stunning, memorable ice creams, velvety and dense. Those who are serious about gelato need to come here more than once or twice.

Travel a little farther east and visit il Pingouino, right on the Bacino waterfront. The house specialty is “Mamma Mia” – vanilla-fresh peach studded with bits of almond macaroons. But a word of warning… get there early because it sells out fast.

In Dorsoduro, find Gelateria Lo Squero across the rio from the squero (gondola repair yard). The choice of gelati here depends on what lovely things came to market and caught the eye of the master maker in back. Hope for pompelmo rosa (pink grapefruit ice cream, not sorbet – seems weird, tastes great) or maracuja (passion fruit). There might be chocolate flavored with something special, such as dates. Or pony up the extra half-euro for the premium Sicilian pistacchi. I guarantee you’ve never tasted a better pistachio ice cream. And you can take a nice walk on the nearby Zattere while you enjoy it.

Also drop by Gelateria il Doge in Campo Santa Margherita for their range of flavored cioccolata fondente (dark chocolate) ice creams. Con peperoncino has a fascinating hint of chile pepper, and con arancia is perfumed with Sicilian blood orange. But avoid the one with rosemary and lavender – it’s a lot like chocolate-covered potpourri, or maybe “Carpet Fresh.”

Close to my house in San Marco, on Calle della Mandorla, there’s Igloo, which offers a real gelato joy – fig & mascarpone. Yes, it tastes very much like that lovely fresh cheese, extra-creamy and not overly sweet. (I just wish they wouldn’t strain the fig seeds out before freezing, because I enjoy that little gritty crunch. But they insist it would be unpleasant to eat.) The other special treat here is their delicate, pale pink watermelon gelato. I’ve never seen this one offered anywhere else.

When you’re in Cannaregio halfway between Rialto and the railway station, stop in at il Gelatone (“the big ice cream”) and get something out-of-the-ordinary. Their honey-sesame gelato will remind you of the Middle Eastern candy called halvah. They also make a very good liquirizia (licorice) gelato – don’t be put off by its drab khaki color if you enjoy that particular taste. I’m rarely willing to forego gelato for sorbet but on a hot day, their aniseed-mint sorbetto is a strange, cooling delight.

Cross the Grand Canal to get to San Polo. While wandering the “peopled labyrinth of walls” (that’s Shelley, not me) you’re bound to pass Majer. If it’s wintertime, don’t miss their deceptively simple, elegant cinnamon gelato. You’ll wonder why this flavor isn’t in everyone’s ice cream case. In warmer months try the fragrant green apple, and in autumn there’s only one right choice – fresh pear.

For the true gelato adventurer, the best place is in Santa Croce, and it’s called Alaska. Here the very imaginative Carlo Pistacchi (“Charlie Pistachios”) makes about a dozen little batches of whatever strikes his fancy everyday. He is ultra-particular about his ingredients: for him, this is art. Go boldly, and do not fear the strange flavors. His sedano (celery) gelato is surprisingly refreshing in hot weather. His carota (carrot) flavor is somehow familiar and friendly (think ‘carrot cake’). In autumn there might be a cardamom-scented choice, which marries nicely with the pumpkin one. If you go for spiciness, there’s wasabi gelato featuring the jade green, ultra-hot Japanese horseradish. Often there is zenzero (fresh ginger), with pungent shreds to thrill the sinuses. That one pairs perfectly with his melon or pear flavor. As a purist, I usually prefer a single scoop, one taste at a time. But here it really pays to double up so you can mix and match. Oh! And Signor Pistacchi’s semi-frozen granite (thick, icy drinks like American “slushies”) are the very best around. He sprinkles fresh basil shreds on the cantaloupe one.

So, fellow freaks, I’ve covered the whole city, but if you still need a fix on your way home, the very best fior di latte (“flower of milk” or plain sweet cream with no vanilla) gelato is – surprise! – just a few steps past the security gates at the airport! You can leave Venice with a little taste of Heaven still lingering on your lips.

What’s wrong with this picture?

File this under “bad ideas.” In my short stay here I have become convinced that mega-size cruise ships passing through the Bacino are a serious menace to the lagoon’s delicate ecosystem, and Venice herself. When I see one towering over San Giorgio Maggiore and totally obscuring the whole island of Giudecca like this, I shudder.

But they are merely part of the problem, and less troubling to me than the so-called solution, the “oscillating buoyancy flap gates” currently being installed underwater. So proud are the city fathers of this effort! I’m told one can take a day trip to see the work in progress… (Anyone have the number for those bad boys of Greenpeace?)