Trattoria Antica Carbonera—S. Luca 4648
They do things differently in Venice—numbering houses, for example. Numbers run inexplicably into the thousands, and it takes a slide rule, a compass, and a garbled conversation with the corner policeman to figure the system out. We became rapt converts of the Antica Carbonera once we had wandered through a maze of side streets, over canal bridges and under vaulted passageways to find it. Its street is obscure and just about six feet wide, and you have to look hard to find number 4648. But you encounter pure Venice when you finally get there. The place has the long-established atmosphere of a smooth-running place which has no pretense and no particular décot, but which has been dedicated for decades to wholesome food. It is inexpensive and a bit rough-and-ready, but eminently worth your visit. In this busy, popular trattoria the kichen is right in the middle of everything. Choose a table where you can watch the venerable chefs in action behind their plate glass window. They arc experts at their trade, and quick enough to have spare time to exchange witticisms with favored customers. One of them needs bifocals, for he wears his horn-rimmed glasses continually on the tip of his nose. We watched him with fascination as he whipped up a fegato alla veneziana in a few swift minutes.
Almost everyone was having risotto as a first course that day, and it was superb, nuggeted with shrimp and rings of octopus. Fragrant and fattening, it was precisely the dish for a disconsolately rainy day. There were three different fish soups for dissenters from the risotto, and a fine array of conventional meat dishes to supplement the matchless Adriatic fish. Good red Bardolino and white Soave came in flagons holding inure than a quart and costing less than forty cents. For substantial nourishment and pure Venetian cuisine, Antica Carbonera is surely one of the best, and worth many times the effort you make to find it.
Al Peoceto Risorto—Calle della Dondella 250-251
This is ristorante was revealed to us as a favorite among Venetian gourmets which is not too well known to the traveling public. You approach it by crossing the Rialto Bridge and walking through the hurly-burly of umbrella topped cheese stands, vegetable carts, and pastry and fruit pushcarts which make up the Rialto market. The experience can serve as a fascinating hors-d'oeuvre all by itself. It all depends upon how many acres of raw meat and miles of uncooked sausage you can look upon with equanimity.
A neon sign points to the narrow sidestreet where Al Peoceto Risorto is located—a neat little place, unpretentious and clean. On our first visit there all the other clients were well-upholstered Italians with napkins under their chins. The atmosphere was congenial, in spite of two doleful guitarists who broke in on the scene.
Fish soups and deep fries are the specially here. One of our fun-loving gastronomic quartet accosted fritto misto dipesce and found it not too heavy and totally delicious, even though he couldn't identify a single fish which came from that hot cauldron of olive oil. Another tried calamaretti al limone, those fabulous baby octopuses, hardly bigger than your thumbnail, also fried in deep olive oil and served with parsley and lemon. Nothing could be simpler or more satisfying. Can they rival New England's famous fried clams? Well rather! For one thing, they don't have to be shucked,and we believe they are more tender in texture and subtler in taste. A third individualist ordered risotti espressi alla veneziana, a sublime risotto truffled with scampi, gamberetti and tiny firm bits of fish. We indulged in an old favorite, vermicelli alla vongole with total success. The pasta had the perfect consistency, and the tiny clams, their necks forming a Churchillian V, were the foundation for a salubrious sauce. After this, a bit of grilled beef, cheese and coffee, accompanied by generous beakers of wine from the Verona hills, and our evening was complete.
Without resorting to superlatives, we think this restaurant, whose destinies arc guided by a cordial man named Pietro Polo, will meet with the approval of most gourmets, especially those who are interested in the piscatorial treasures of the Adriatic.
Verona
Hurried travelers who shuttle nonstop between Florence and Venice arc depriving themselves of one particularly rich experience—a visit to the ancient walled city of Verona. A charming, civilized community, filled with architectural treasures which range from an oval Roman arena to a Renaissance market place, Verona is too good to be missed, especially since its hotels arc adequate and its restaurants are Better than merely good. If you find yourself in the city of Romeo and Juliet (her famous balcony is still there, gracing the façade of the tourist bureau), you might make the Piazza Dante your starting point.
Here is an ancient café straight out of the eighteenth century, one to suggest to all sentimentalists as a place to enjoy an aperitivo during a preprandial stroll. Anyone who appreciates atmosphere will he heartened by the CAFFE DANTE. Its marble-topped tables are the ancient, immovable type. The banquette against the wall are covered with a deep plum-maroon velvet worn thin at the edges. The crystal chandeliers and Louis XV wall mirrors are in perfect harmony. Venerable chess players spend hours in its mure remote corners, and dignified gentlemen of the old school read their newspapers over a caffè espresso and a thimbleful of Strega.
After the formality of a dry vermouth in these nostalgic surroundings you should have luncheon or dinner at the Restaurant of the Twelve Apostles. To get there, you must pass through one of the most picturesque and animated market places in Italy, the Piazza Erbe. Irs architectural backdrop is breathtaking. A Venetian lion perches proudly on top of a column at one end, a fountain gushes forth in the middle, and a mushroom growth of umbrella-covered stands Occupies the rest of the market square. A fantastic bazaar booms under these disks of canvas. One dealer sells canaries, pigeons and parrots, another dispenses goldfish and delivers them to delighted buyers in little plastic bags filled with water. If you want lingerie or flowers, artichoke bottoms or dark glasses, kitchenware or cannelloni, you come to this gay and theatrical square, as people have done for two thousand years. There are bars, cafés and inexpensive restaurants around the edge of the square, a perpetual enticement to snackers. If you can resist them, a worthy restaurant is nearby—
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