Carlotta Café – Milano

Carlotta Café – Milano

Octopus as tender as a dream, served warm and simply, with potatoes, olives and olive oil. Fish and pasta prepared and presented with an expert hand. Warm-hearted hosts, all family, welcome their guests into an easy, comfortable dining room in their restaurant alongside the Naviglio Pavese canal: Carlotta Café Bar & Restaurant. If you want to eat at all in Milano, EAT HERE.

During my year here, I have eaten at the Carlotta Café 5 times, and each time I have swooned and savored my meal. The fish could not be fresher. The light seasonings could not be more perfected. The preparation of every dish has never been pretentiously grand; it is simple, pure and complete. It’s no wonder I keep going back.

Carlotta Café owners, Ninni and Agnese, have had the restaurant for 13 years.

Siblings, Carlotta (after whom the restaurant is named) and Erik, work with their Mother in serving the café patrons. Erik is as attentive and welcoming as one could wish for when out for a nice meal.

Here are a few of the dishes I’ve enjoyed in my times at the restaurant.
(The photos were taken in varying lighting conditions, evening and daytime.)

Pane Carasau, also called “Paper Music”, is a wispy-thin cracker served hot, generously drizzled with a flavorful olive oil and brightened with salt. This bread starts the meal and wakes up the mouth.

The dish that keeps bringing me back for more: Piovra con Patate – Octopus with Potatoes.
I can’t even descibe how delicious it is.

Gamberi Rossi Crudi della Mediterranea – Mediterranean Red Shrimp, served raw – are a delicacy and a gift to the palate.

This shrimp will be splashed with lime and relished.

Spaghetti con Vongole e Bottarga – Spaghetti with clams and grated, dried fish roe.
Bottarga is a southern Italian gourmet specialty.

Branzino Vernaccia con Olive – Baked seabass with olives and olive oil.
Look at how beautiful those filets are. Ninni knows how to handle fish!

Carpaccio di Spada – Thinly sliced, raw swordfish, served with rucola – arugula – and tomato.

Paccheri all’IsolanaPaccheri pasta with tuna, basil and tomato.

Gnocchi con Speck e Rucola – Potato Gnocchi with lightly smoked speck (cured meat somewhat similar to prosciutto), arugula and a creamy sauce.

The Carlotta Café offers a full bar, wine list and caffé. Order an ice-cold bottle of Mirto, a Sardegnan specialty from myrtle leaves and berries, as a digestif to sip after your meal.

The Red Room is the quiet, more intimate room set off from the bar and main dining area.

There’s also a north-facing Terrazo Room with it’s pleasant light.

The café is not in the central hub-bub of town, and unlikely to be found by tourists. It’s not close to a subway stop and, for me without a car or scooter, it would be a long walk on a hot day. So I gladly take a quick cab ride to the restaurant and it is oh-so worth it.

Ninni and Agnese offer a “Cena a Base di Pesce“, dinner based on fish, at an incredibly reasonable price. Make it simple for yourself: order this special dinner and a nice bottle of wine then sit back and enjoy the steady stream of expertly prepared foods that arrive at your table. You will go home happily satisfied. And you, too, will dream about the octopus. (Tell them “Maureen” sent you.)

(Check with them on their current pricing, since it may change.)

Carlotta Café Bar & Restaurant
Alzaia Naviglio Pavese, 274
20142 Milano, Italia
TEL: 02.89546028
E-MAIL: carlottacafe@gmail.com

Another History Lesson

Another History Lesson

My “History Buff on Wheels“, Angelo, went rolling past me along the canal this morning. In a cycling daze and not recognizing him, I nodded and said the usual “ciao” as one cyclist to another. Mere moments later, he pulled up on my left, took my pace, greeted me and commented that it had been a long time since we had seen each other.

“Angelo! Ciao!”
What a great surprise to see him.

It had been January 11th, a very cold day, when we had ended up riding for 3 hours together, and all that time he had given me an historic commentary on Italy, Europe, the wars and politicians. It was Angelo that showed me the little back roads through the farmland that I have come to cherish so much. It was Angelo that first took me to Cascina Femegro, where I now go for the fresh ricotta cheese I savor.

Today, we rode for a half an hour together, all the way back to my place. We stood out on the walk under the scorching sun, talking about more history and geography, language and dialects. What a pleasure. We said a warm goodbye, but hoped to see each other another day on the bike path before I go.

“Ciao, Angelo!”

Full But Not Scholarly

This is not a scholarly blog with a foundation in formal Art or European History. I’m the first to admit my ignorance in those realms. And on the web, one can find formal information and imagery on just about any topic. I have no desire to regurgitate what’s readily available out there, although I do provide links now and then to informative sites.

Rather, this is a collection of sometimes-knee-jerk, sometimes-thoughtful observations and responses to having plopped myself down in Milano for a year. I write about the jaw-droppingly beautiful, the quirky and questionable, the forefront, the frustrating and the fulfilling.

Living here is “the stuff of dreams”, but it is not “glamorous” as so many seem to believe. It is daily life in a place where they speak a different language and do things differently, all against a backdrop that sometimes takes my breath away from either beauty or cigarette smoke.

I write about ants in my kitchen and hardwater in my pipes. About an old lady in her pajamas on New Year’s Day, and an old man gathering fire wood along the canal. There’ve been stories about feeding fresh ricotta cheese to farm cats, buying old linens at the flea market, and eating pureéd rabbit livers and raw meat.

This blog is simply about what catches my eye, my mind and my heart. It is increasingly populated with stories of the people that have stepped into my days. I’ve filled my mind with enough imagery to inspire me for a lifetime.

This is no movie set. The Lombardia sun is usually obscured by haze. The winter was interminably gray. There is “dog do” on the sidewalks and no one else to handle the details for me. But the struggles have been authentic. The food is remarkably unlike an Italian restaurant menu in the U.S. The people have been slowly responsive. And I’ve started to “talk with my hands”, especially when in an animated conversation in Italian with a friend.

Having been here now for over a year, and facing an imminent departure and return to The States, I feel mixed and wistful… and deeply full.

Minnie & Michelangelo at the Castle

Minnie & Michelangelo at the Castle

The little girl was unrestrained and so pleased with herself. She and I both saw the humor of her Minnie Mouse joining Michelangelo’s unfinished Rondanini Pietá. As I think about it further, I wonder which creator, Michelangelo or Disney, has had greater cultural influence? (Many would be aghast at my putting those two in the same sentence, but it’s a legitimate question.)

Though I’ve been in and around the Castello Sforzesco, one of the jewels of Milano, a number of times while here, I had not gone in to view the art and history exhibitions there. Before my departure, I wanted to “at least” see the Rondanini. Michelangelo had worked on this Pietá for many years and, they say, even up to a few days before his death in 1564. Here’s a video about the restoration done on the Rondanini Pietá (in Italian, but visually interesting, nonetheless, for those that don’t understand it).

Leonardo da Vinci also left his mark in the city of Milano. He lived here for roughly 20 years and followed not only artistic pursuits, but also military and civil engineering efforts. (He designed water-flow “locks” on the Naviglio Pavese canal along which I ride my bike so frequently.) His world-renowned “Last Supper” is here in Milano at the monastery of Santa Maria della Grazie. Viewing tickets are sold months in advance, and the large salon hosting the wall mural has an atmosphere very carefully controlled to preserve what’s left of the dry fresco.

At the Castello, on the other hand, I readily walked in and bought a 3 Euro ticket to view the whole museum complex. I proceeded past stone remnants from centuries past.

“Court of the Dukes Museum of Art”

(This letter “P” is for my sister, by special request.)

And I was amused by this type correction. (Ooops.)

I walked into grand rooms with elaborately painted ceilings and draped with tapestries, this one of St. Ambrogio, the patron saint of Milano.

And then I walked into an entirely unexpected and very dark room. The “Sala delle Asse” was painted by Leonardo c. 1498 across the full expanse of its ceiling and down onto its walls. Quite unlike the iconic “Last Supper”, this canopy of foliage, trunks, stone and scrollwork creates a tangle of visual detail. At first glance it looks like a mess, as if the whole surface had been consumed by black mold over the years, with a few, still-vivid blue shields positioned at quarters.

The ceiling has an equally tangled history of “restorations”, including a complete whitewash covering, subsequent cleaning and color “enhancements”. The room was restored again in 1954, undoing the heavy-handed treatments it had suffered in centuries past.

It was a hard place to photograph, but you can find more images here. (Looking at some of them, I can’t believe we were looking at the same ceiling!)

The Castello has a grand inner courtyard, with an interior moat home to dozens of cats! The museum sections are housed in the building ring around the courtyard.

The Castello Sforzesco is a hub and a landmark for the city, stalwart and visible from a distance. One can make the short, straight walk from Castello to Duomo.

Tasting Wine with Friends

Tasting Wine with Friends

The grape varieties and resulting wines here in Italy are numerous and quite different than in the U.S. What better way, then, to learn about the wine I’m drinking than to take a wine-tasting class. After attending intensive language classes last winter, I figured I was ready to enroll in the preliminary class series offered by the Organizzazione Nazionale Assaggiatori di Vino (ONAV) – the National Organization of Wine Tasters.

Some of my Seattle friends have joked that the class was a bunch of people sitting around drinking wine. “Hey! How do you like this wine?” “It’s great. Pass me the bottle!”

No. It was a series of 18 lessons, 2 per week, from 9:00 in the evening ’til 11:00 or so. It was held across town and I usually got home on the subway after midnight. (I started the class in February.) The course content was very technical, including discussions of chemistry, cultivation and fermentation processes, wine types and their characteristics, defects and regulations.

And all of this was in Italian. Each session was taught by a person with a different expertise… and a different manner of speaking. On good nights I understood 80% of what was said. (At least I think so.) There were a few nights when I may have understood only 10 -20%. Most lessons were complete with powerpoint presentations, charts and graphs. What I couldn’t understand by listening I could understand by reading. I felt I was learning more than I knew before, even though I didn’t get it all.

Most evenings, we had 4 wines to taste, being given a small sampling of each but not even taking the first sip until about 10:30. We used a complex table to judge each wine for its visual, olfactory and in-the-mouth characteristics, tallying a score for each wine on a 100-point scale. We judged on clarity, tone, intensity, frankness, fineness, harmony, body, persistence and overall ranking.

Taking the class did change my understanding of and appreciation for wine. And it probably spoiled me for drinking “cheap wine”, though here in Italy I can get a pretty nice, very drinkable wine for 4 or 5 euro. ($5 or $6)

When the class was ending in late April, we were told to prepare for the final exam. Yes. A final exam! I considered not taking the test; after all, I had attended the course simply for my own interest, not to become an official sommelier.

Having convinced myself to take the exam, I then considered taking the test in English, an option offered. But no. I took the 10-question short essay test in Italian. I had to understand the question; know the answer and know how to say and write it in Italian! We then had 5 wines to taste and judge; our judgments of the wine were expected to fall within a few points of the ONAV judgments. (ONAV was serious! They had several versions of the test. We had to sit with an empty chair between us. And we had to remain silent.)

I passed! It was a little, personal triumph.

Last Sunday we had our diploma ceremony at the beautiful Ferghettina vineyard high on a hill in the Franciacorta region east of Milan. Our class was joined by classes from other locations of the Lombardia region of Italy for one grand celebration.

Not having a car, I could not have attended without the kindness of my classmate, Giuseppe, letting me ride along with him and Alessandro. Once there, we met up with Federica and Valentina from our class.

Rocco and Gianni were also there, as were other classmates.

Our names were called out individually and we went to the front to receive our diplomas.

Afterwards, we were treated to Ferghettina Brut, along with typical meats, cheeses and breads. On that sweltering hot day, a tour of the winery’s cool, underground “cantina” was a refreshing break, and fascinating.

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Ahh, nice and cool standing next to the 2008 Franciacorta Brut.

After celebrating with our other ONAV classmates, the 5 of us headed off in two cars to a place that Federica had heard about. It was a laughable, roundabout tour through the countryside of Brescia trying to find the agriturismo, Cá del Lupo. We enjoyed a light lunch on the terrace: Alessandro, Valentina, Giuseppe and Federica.

Alessandro.

Valentina.

Giuseppe.

Federica.

It took much hemming-and-hawing to decide whether to go walk along the shore of Lago d’Iseo. We consulted the GPS to figure out how to get there and how long it would take.

Lago d’Iseo is between Lago di Como and Lago di Garda, nestled in the ring of mountains to the north.

Alessandro and I goofed off at the cartoon characters on the lawn.

I spent my very hot Fourth of July at a winery, a farm and a lake, with 4 dear people I hardly knew. We had a wonderful time and laughed a lot. One of more of them may end up on my doorstep in Seattle some day!

Marina Pavani: Antiques in Genova

Marina Pavani: Antiques in Genova

It all started with hat forms on Milan’s Grand Canal.

Five weeks ago I went to the Mercatone Antiquariato – Antique Market – along the Naviglio Grande and saw hat bases made of coarse fabric. They are from the Bovone sisters that were making hats in the 1930s. The hats have asymetrical, sumptuous curves and show the “hand” of their makers through stitches and markings.

The hat bases harkened to the beautifully-sculpted wooden hat forms I did NOT buy in Florence in March but still thought about. I bought 3, chatted a bit with the woman selling them and asked for her business card.

A week ago, back at the antique market, the woman was there again and she had wooden forms this time! I considered them all and picked one to bring home. The seller, Marina Pavina, and I introduced ourselves and talked some more. She was insistent: “you should come to Genova!” I had already planned to go through Genova, her home town, on my way to San Remo a week later, so we agreed to meet there.

At the end of the train ride from Milano, I stepped out of the station into a 90-degree day and was met by Marina and her husband, Claudio. They took me on a city overview driving tour of Genova, port city and home of Cristoforo Colombo. There was much that reminded me of Seattle: the waterside location, the surrounding ring of hills, the elevated viaduct, the busy international port. Yet it is all tighter and closer in.

Claudio stopped long enough for Marina and me to get out and see the front of Cristorforo’s house, as well as the adjacent towered city entry.

Two towers create an arched entry gate into Genova’s Molo neighborhood.

This madonna and two plaques are mounted underneath the arch. The top plaque is from 1865. (I’ve recently brushed up on reading roman numerals. It comes in handy here in Italy.) Madonnas and other religious niches like this are found all over Italy, reflecting the high number of Catholics in the country.

I’ve never seen such a concentration of scooters than in Genova, although I was told later that San Remo has more scooters per capita. In some places in the city, there are so many scooters parked along both sides of the street that there is just enough space for one car to pass between them, lane lines having no meaning.

After our driving tour, we parked the car and took a stroll along the beautiful and historic Via Garibaldi. Genova has elaborately frescoed and decorated buildings like I’ve never seen (nor will) in Seattle. Just envision this building without its fresco painting!

This is an interior foyer just off the street.

This ceiling reminds me of Wedgwood pottery.

Our next stop was Marina’s antique shop, “Marina Pavani Particolaritá D’Epoca”, just off Via Garibaldi near the museums.

Marina offers art pieces, furnishings and decorative objets d’art covering a broad time period. Whether a person is looking for a large, prominent piece, or a small, visual detail, Marina’s collection piques the curiosity. She also does custom searches and display work.

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Here’s a sampling of some of the hat forms that caught my eye in the first place.

The hat forms are constructed of 5 wooden pieces joined with large dovetail joints, then sculpted and painted. Damp hat fabric, likely felt, is draped over the form, pressed and pinned into the depressions and left to dry. When removed, the fabric will have taken the shape of the hat form.

I bought this second one while in Marina’s shop in Genova. I like all the patina and pin holes as much as the lovely curves of the forms themselves.

While looking at the underside, the dovetail joints and form numbers are visible.

After browsing the antique shop, Marina and Claudio treated me to lunch at a cafe nearby.

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We rushed through our lunch and finished just in time for them to drop me off at the station and give each other quick goodbyes. I then waited on the platform for a half-hour-late train on a sweating-hot day.

What’s most remarkable to me, again, is the kindness of strangers that I have been encountering. I don’t know Marina and Claudio, and yet they hosted me warmly in their home town, and we chatted like long-time friends.

If you find yourself in Genova, step into Marina’s shop. See what catches your eye and enjoy a pleasant conversation.

Marina Pavani Particolaritá D’Epoca
Via Ai 4 Canti di San Francesco, 50 R. 16124 Genova, Italia
(Angolo Via Garibaldi)
Tel: 339-7461952

Turgid Toes

I just took my shoes off as it approaches midnight and I have turgid, little, sausage toes! It’s still 81 degrees out on these 90+ degree days and I’m so grateful for the invention of air conditioning. (I know that everyone in Seattle these days would love to have the opportunity to have turgid sausage toes from heat! But remember last summer?!)

I just returned from San Remo on the Italian Riviera (I know, that sounds so high-fallutin’) and it was hot and humid there, too. For being peak tourist town, the streets were surprisingly empty. Actually, not surprising at all. The shoreline is wall-to-wall beach umbrellas with bodies sprawled out underneath them. Come evening, the town will be hopping with all those bodies seeking food and entertainment.

In the meantime, now back in Milano, I’ll get some sleep and hope that my feet fit into my shoes by morning.

For Grace Received

For Grace Received

Two years ago, in exploring one church after another, I noticed cathedral walls laden with silver framed medallions bearing the letters “GR”. Some were tied with a pink or a blue ribbon. There may have been 50 in some churches, or hundreds in others.

Here’s a wall in the Duomo of Sienna (from 2008).

With an interest in symbols and icons, silverwork and folk art, I was intrigued. What were these? What meaning did they hold to those that posted them?

In Firenze, I went into a store selling Catholic statues, vestments, rosaries and other religious items and talked to one of the nuns working there. She explained “Per Grazia Ricevuta” – “For Grace Received” – this physical symbol of gratitude. The medallions are placed in the cathedrals at the birth of a child, the healing of an illness or injury, or other instances of great grace. (I bought one for my brother to acknowledge him, his wife and 5 kids.)

Two years later, now back in Italy, I continue to see the Grazia Ricevuta medallion. It moves me that the Italians have this tangible symbol for their gratitude . (I rack my brain trying to think of an American corollary.)

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I feel such deep gratitude for the opportunity to be here. I have the means and the fortitude to have come for a year even in the midst of global economic crisis. I have experienced no mishap, illness or calamity. I have remained safe both when traveling alone and riding my bike amidst crazy, Milanese traffic. My family, friends and clients back home have been supportive and steady. New friendships and chance meetings here have kept me from loneliness and given me the highlights of my time. I have seen things that have filled my head with images to last my lifetime. THIS has been a great grace received and I am genuinely humbled by the gift.

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The Grazia Ricevuta has become increasingly touching to me as my time passes here in Milano. I purchased another framed medallion to hang in my home when I return. And I just purchased one (below) from the antique market which I will wear on occasion. When you see it, you will know its meaning to me.

Rice Green and Sky Blue

Rice Green and Sky Blue

Late afternoon. High 80s. Hot, humid and sunny. Perhaps not the best time to get out on my bike, but quarter-til-five on a hot day is better than quarter-til-one. In the late day sun, the rice growing along the east side of the bike path was brilliant green topped by a deep sky that hints of a coming thunderstorm. That green stops me every time.

Mako & Ma Qing Sheng

Mako & Ma Qing Sheng

Two Chinese and one American strolling together along the Naviglio Grande speaking Italian, their only common language. Now if that doesn’t make you smile, I don’t know what will.

I had gone back to the Mercatone Antiquariato – The Big Antique Market – (the last one before my departure) in search of the few, last treasures. Three things called my name and came home with me and they will be some of the many things that bring Italy to mind when I’m back in the Pacific Northwest. I bought an old book, a wooden hat form, and a medallion… and then I was hungry.

The Naviglio Grande is lined with trattorie, osterie, cafés, gelaterie and pizza joints selling by the slice. I know better than to be indecisive when I’m hungry, so I stepped right into the Vintage Café (decorated with Marilyn Monroe), because I saw their lunch buffet arrayed like the typical evening aperitivo. My hosts, Piero and Élena, seated me and brought me a crisp glass of cold, white wine. I loaded up my plate and began to calm my rumbling belly.

Two men walked in and took the table right next to me. As I’ve found here in general, space is tight and so are tables. People sitting NEXT to you might as well be eating WITH you. We started chatting and comparing our purchases. Mako and Ma Qing Sheng are son and father, here for two months from China. They had purchased and showed me a set of an elaborate, engraved serving spatula and fork, with matching appetizer forks. I showed them the old book and hat form I bought. Piero, our host, joined the conversation and pretty soon we were all one big, happy family in conversation.

Ma Qing Sheng liked the hat form and I told him I’d take him to the seller so he could buy one. We paid our bills for lunch. Piero gave me a European kiss goodbye and we started walking and talking. I was amused by the absurd unlikelihood of the situation: being in Italy and carrying on in Italian with two Chinese men. (The little bit of Chinese I know was buried too deep in the recesses for any access or assistance as we chatted.)

Ma Qing Sheng picked out one of the very sculptural forms, and the father and son playfully modeled some of the vintage hats on display (probably to the chagrin of the seller, but she had just sold another hat form, so wasn’t putting up a fuss). Mako and his father and I exchanged contact information and we may get together for dinner sometime in the next month.

These unlikely moments will make me smile and sparkle for years to come…