After sitting inside all day working, by 6:00 p.m. I had to get out and take a walk from here to my beloved Duomo. I had arrived late Tuesday evening, spent Wednesday getting settled and hadn’t yet been to my favorite landmark in town, 2 miles away from my apartment. I must always go to the Duomo, do a pilgrimage to the great cathedral.
I stretched the 4 mile loop out into just under 4 hours, shooting 200 photos along the way, catching sights that amused my eye. Come take a stroll with me and see what I see.
A Milanese fashion faux pas. I really think this woman needs a good friend to pull her aside and suggest a different outfit. Those are actually leggings printed to look like denim with funky strap markings. Very odd.
Milan has an intense cover of graffiti all over town, some of it quite artfully rendered. When is it acceptable, and to whom? When is it ugly defacing of property?
I find frequent evidence of fascination with Native American representations here in Italy.
These are the locking mechanisms operated by my funky-looking house keys.
Retro Levi’s signage.
One of Milano’s MANY bike-share stations! Swipe your debit/credit card and ride.
I specifically timed my walk to catch the early evening sun on the west-facing facade of the Duomo. (Note the red banner over the main door announcing the Pope’s visit coming up on June 3.)
The Piazza del Duomo is the “living room of the city” of Milano. This is the place to meet friends, people-watch, riot and celebrate. This piazza is the city’s heart.
The Duomo, (building commenced in the 1300s), has something like 4000 sculptures all over it, including this disemboweled man. Macabre! (And the point is?)
Yesterday was pretty chilly, so a warmer day today brought everyone outside onto the sidewalks and piazzas. The city was teeming with nightlife. Some bars had a couple hundred people outside, standing around with drinks and cigarettes.
All over Italy you’ll find freely running water fountains from which you can drink and/or fill your water bottle. (Though I never have.)
The Galleria is smack next to the Duomo: two adjacent cathedrals, one to consumerism, the other to religion and spiritual foundations (among other things, too many to discuss in a photo caption.) At the intersection of the Galleria, under the dome, is a Louis Vuitton store, Prada store and a McDonald’s!
The Galleria floor is richly embedded with mosaic. Last year I saw some men working to replace stone pieces, repairing the mosaic. I politely asked one of the men if I could have a square of black marble and he gave me one! (How many people have a piece of the Galleria floor?)
Part of the Louis Vuitton window display in the Galleria. (Milano has tremendous window displays!)
Of course I had to stop and pay Leonardo a visit. (He lived in Milano for many years and made many contributions to the city in the realm of not only art, but science, architecture, science and engineering.)
This one took me a minute… I did a double-take.
Since I often sign my letters with an “M”, I like these Metro signs scattered around town.
Not the best choice for a small meal, but at 8:00 p.m., with low-blood sugar and in the vicinity of the Duomo, I just needed food. For 5,40 Euro, I got one slice and a bottle of sparkling water. If I could have kept walking a bit, away from the tourist hub, I could have paid 8,00 Euro and had an apperitivo buffet and a glass of wine instead.
Piazza San Lorenzo Maggiore is illuminated and offering a place to sit with friends.
Here’s the same Piazza, earlier in the evening as people relaxed after work.
The street name is “Corso di Porta Ticinese”, which someone has translated with a rebus puzzle: the door is “Porta” + the letter “T”, pronounced “Ti” (tee) + plus the caricature of a Chinese man, which is “Cinese” in Italian. There’s an additional sign which I’d like to know the story behind: “The Way of Irony and Apathy”.
The Piazza XXIV Maggio is about 3 blocks from my home, at the junction of Corso di Porta Ticinese and Corso San Gottardo, where the Naviglio Grande and Naviglio Pavese (canals) meet. Year 1815.
Bike repair and sales shop late at night, at Piazza XXIV Maggio.
Fruit Map of Italy. (I’ve been to all of the places shown.)
How can there be any other way to eat? The Saturday market is now just one block away from my apartment and it goes on for blocks. The selection of meats, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, and other delicious things makes the market a must-stop. Apparently everyone local thinks so, too.
Ahh! Grana Padano! Note the pattern on the side of the cheese wheel. When you see that diamond-shaped imprint, you know it’s the real thing.
Why have butter when you can have lard (or olive oil)? Yum! A slice of lard on a good hunk of bread: Yes!
My purchases today included:
Bouquet of anemones for my friend, Ewa
“Sweet” Olives from Puglia – Green and meaty
Cherry Tomatoes from Sicily
Pomodori di Pachino – Green and red skinned, crisp tomatoes
Pickled Artichoke Hearts and Onions
Ravioli stuffed with asparagus and fresh ricotta
Basil – dirt still on the roots
Eggs – handwrapped
Peas – fresh in the shell
Mozzarella – freshly made
Mortadella of Wild Boar with Black Truffles and Pistachios (!!!)
I couldn’t wait to get home and shove it all in my mouth!
Oooo! The Mortadella with truffle!
The pickled onions and sweet olives!
I cooked the ravioli while I cut up the tomatoes, basil and some of the mozzarella. When the pasta was finished, I shelled the fresh peas right onto the hot ravioli, then dumped everything together and drizzled it all with bright green extra virgin olive oil and some crema di balsamico, a reduced balsamic vinegar from Modena.
Oh… Wow. Mmm.
…And this food is not “gourmet”. And it’s not being sold at high-priced, specialty grocery stores. This is daily fare.
Friday, April 29. The Milanese are still wearing their winter jeans, puff jackets and scarves. I’m wearing black linen capris and sleeveless blouses. I arrived in Milano Wednesday at 9:00 a.m., to a morning warmer than Seattle… yet I’m glad to have brought a little summer jacket.
Robin-like birds started singing early this morning. By the time I looked at the clock, it was 5:00 and they had already roused a chorus. I slipped back into sleep, and when I awoke, it was then the doves I heard, cooing in the courtyard trees.
The sky is overcast. There’s a bit of a breeze, and we had both sprinkles and sunshine by day’s end. The church bells just started chiming. It’s a quarter-til-6:00 in the evening. Why aren’t they waiting ’til the hour?
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On Wednesday, the short train ride from the airport brought me to Cadorna Station in central Milano. I caught a cab to the apartment I’ve rented for this week, in the hip-and-artsy Navigli district, just blocks away from my old apartment and one of the grocery stores I always used to shop at.
Late morning, drowsy from the long travel and a little hungry, I went across the street to Trattoria Madonnina with its city-wide reputation… for coffee and lunch served by an unhappy waitress. I sat on the courtyard-side, jasmine-covered patio, with red-checked tablecloths and red, plastic chairs. (The WC is an old-style pit toilet with white, ridged ceramic foot pads for accurate positioning.) The morning was slow and relaxed with a cool, mid-spring sun and Milano’s classic hazy-blue sky. Neighborhood locals passed through the courtyard with their big, round “ciaos”.
I stopped in to the grocery to see my friend, Justine, cutting prosciutto in the meat department. She’s the meat cutter at the store and has the most beautiful smile. It touched my heart that her face lit up to see me and we gave each other an excited, european, two-cheeked kiss and chatted between customers.
It feels as if it’s only been 2 weeks since I was last here. As if I was back in Seattle just to check on a few things and see family, friends and clients. Actually, 9 months have passed since I packed up and left Milano, but it feels like I’ve come home, as I walk these familiar streets and hear the city’s sounds of sirens and courtyard conversations, soccer cheers and scooter accelerations.
In planning these two months, I gave myself the luxury of a fairly unplanned first week here in Milano. I haven’t even told all my friends that I’m here yet, because I haven’t wanted this week to be a full flurry of gatherings. I’ve taken my naps and slept as needed to get over the late-nights’ crush to leave Seattle, the long travels and resulting jet lag. I’ve focussed on getting systems up and running. I reactivated my Italian cell phone with its rechargeable SIM card, unlocked my ancient (1st generation) iPhone (thanks to Luigi) and transferred the SIM card from one phone to the other. I was allowed use of the wifi at the Design School and have spent hours online, sitting amidst design students in the computer lab while I booked air and hotels for Sicily and Puglia for the coming two weeks.
Connectivity-hooked that I am, with no wifi in this apartment, and inconvenienced by only being online when the computer lab is open, I bought a “chiavetta” – little key – from TIM, one of the Italian carriers and the supplier of my cell phone SIM card service. Very patient Valentina at the TIM store on Corso San Gottardo explained my options and then waded through setup with me. I can now use the key modem independent of wifi availability throughout all of Italy (though it won’t work on my iPad because of device power issues).
Logistics. Though vastly less disruptive to my “life system” to come abroad for “just” 2 months rather than packing up and moving here, it’s still a big effort and taxing. How often do I figure on doing this? Once… twice a year? Would two weeks satisfy me? Will I always want a month or two or more? And to what end? Am I naive in feeling I have some sort of tie to Italy and her people, the friends I’ve made here? Am I holding a glamorized, fantasy of living partly in Italy? And where does that come from?
It’s Friday evening and there’s chatter in the courtyard, an enclosed canyon of a space between several of this big city’s 5-story apartment buildings.
Still moving slowly, I’m not compelled to go out tonight. Rather, I’ll make myself a salad of fresh greens, Sicilian tomatoes, long-missed bresaola, scamorza affumicata, some oil and vinegar. Maybe this weekend I’ll head down the bike path on an already-borrowed bike for some fresh ricotta cheese, and then later meet up with a girlfriend to check out the latest art museum show.
Here just two days so far, I’ve shopped for olive oil and intimates, cured meats and internet keys. At a quarter-til-eight in the evening, the doves are cooing again.
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!
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
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…
Another day at the Antiques Market along the Naviglio Grande. Summer is in full swing and tourists have found this hot spot. It’s “the” place to be on the last Sunday of the month for anyone wanting a very diverse selection of some pretty choice items. “Antique” in Italy covers a broader range than “antique” in the U.S.!
The sellers know full well what they’ve got and the high demand for what they’re offering and they’re not giving any of it away for cheap! Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing there. I have no budget for this stuff! But I remind myself that there’s value in simply SEEING it. Tools and instruments. A world atlas from the 1700s. Household goods and fixtures. Old nuns’ handwritten devotional cards in hand-stitched envelopes. Embroidered linens. Letterpress printed prayerbooks of handmade paper bound in hide. Maps and etchings of former cityscapes. The historical reference alone makes it worth spending a day gently handling 300-year-old book pages.
I find the very old and the very curious. (A Lamborghini wooden rowing machine?!) I look around for hours until I’m mentally saturated and physically hungry, unable to really appreciate any more. By then I’m going home with a few little trinkets that are affordable and packable, and a mind full of imagery I hope to never forget.
The original plan was to head to Firenze for the day (!), but I caught a short, quick cold Friday night and couldn’t dare think of hopping on the train this morning. (I could hardly get out of bed!) After eventually getting up-and-at-em, I dragged myself up to the Naviglio Grande, knowing they were having their monthly Antiques Market. “OK, fine. I’ll go there instead.”
Glad I did! I found some wonderful things. I’m enthralled with old penmanship and typography, fabric and sewing notions, curious boxes and just plain cool things. Here’s my day’s assortment:
Old post cards, religious medals and pen nibs.
I selected a pencil drawing from 1888, an old travel journal from 1961, report cards from 1907+, a cheese sign, decorative cloth tape, “money substitute papers” from the Comune di Varese from 1926 and some hat forms from Genova.
A bundle of 100-year-old postcards and a Superman school journal from 1980 were included in my day’s treasures. (1980 was 30 years ago! Wow.)
On the last Sunday of the month, one can browse Antiques and Flea-Market-Finds for as far as the eye can see (2 kilometers), on both sides of the Naviglio Grande, the Grand Canal. (This canal intersects with the Naviglio Pavese, the one I ride my bike along.)
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There is still some limited boat traffic along the canal when they’ve let the water in.
The antique sellers’ stalls also stretch far out into the side streets that branch off of the canal.
Linens? Oh yes. I find plenty. And they’re gorgeous. And the sellers know what they have and charge prices accordingly. There are few, if any, “steals” here. But the high quality linen and cotton, with the embroidery and open-work stitching, are superb examples of the old European linens. (I would love to buy them all up… but for what?)
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Beautiful, finely-crafted instruments of all sorts! The asking price of this Astrolabe was 700 Euro. (Cough, cough. Roughly $1000 right now.) But it was lovely.
I don’t even know what this Parisian instrument is.
These look like porcelain portraits of Mao and his family.
An interesting assortment of portraits.
It is startling to me how often I see the American flag, or some representation of it.
Isn’t this luggage out of the stereotypical “Italian Holiday Travel Movie”?
The dog matches the upholstery. I missed him at first.
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Smile. I’m on Candid Camera (for my Seester.)
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This guy sold horse figures of every sort.
I had been walking around for hours and stumbled upon some finds. “How much for this group of papers and books?” “50 Euro.” “How about 40?” How about 45 and you let me buy you a drink.” I laughed. It caught me completely by surprise. I bought the papers and books for 45 Euro and Graziano and I stepped 10 feet across the cobblestone and had a glass of cold white wine at a Sushi Bar on a hot afternoon and talked for a little while. So funny. But it was a pleasant and charming break.
Cool hat box. (Cool typography.)
As the warm afternoon waned, the cafés started to fill with people enjoying the Milanese aperitivo. The musicians showed up in the old Vicolo dei Lavandai, the washing station of the 19th century where women gathered to scour their clothes against washboard stones as their wash water flowed off into the canal.
Who’da thought I’d see this?! Wait! I should have bought the one a few issues back: Settembre 1957!
Packing up to go home, this man still wore hat, bow tie and white coat as he packed his lamps into a salami box.
So now, do you have an idea of what’s for sale at an Italian Antique/Flea Market?
Milan is currently the host of 33 large-scale lighting installations. (6 December – 10 January.) In the evenings, I’ve wandered through town to see the pieces and love how it changes the night scene, the visual texture and energy of the city. These intriguing works of light encourage after-dark strolls.
Along Corso Vittorio Emanuele, Milano’s hot shopping street between the Duomo and the Galleria, these jewels of “Spiro Gira” hover over the street:
The facade of Teatro alla Scala requires a patient observation. Music is broadcast in the piazza and the theatre’s face is transformed with light throughout the performance. Here, the building becomes a library of treasured, old books, including Leonardo’s “Codex Atlanticus”:
One of Milano’s several luxe shopping sites is the Galleria di Vittorio Emanuele, with Prada and McDonald’s at its center. As a part of the lighting installation event, the Galleria dome is draped in blue lights, illuminated when two people kiss under the giant mistletoe beneath. (One euro is being donated for every kiss.)
Near my home, at the convergence of the canals, the arches at Porta Ticinese have been illuminated with long strands of sparkle and a changing wash of color:
I can see that there are many more pieces for me to seek out! There will be many more evening strolls after the first of the year.
Milan calls the creative excellences in order to furnish and adorn with light the metropolis: young talents and great designers will transform the city in an open air stage of installations and works of contemporary art and design.
Milan lightens itself of design: a great competition among the young talents of the most important Schools and Academies of the metropolis and a special invitation to the most important designers of the contemporary scene, will transform the city in a laboratory of ideas and experimentation in order to give life to an open air stage of light’s installations, projections and stages of design and contemporary art.
LED is a project that will be developed in more phases, opening with a great competition. Students and former students, professional people, Italians and foreigners, are called to be compared and to project works of light in order to furnish the city and illuminate squares, avenues, historical parks, monuments and buildings, from the city centre to the suburbs. A skilful work of experimentation and research that, during the month of May, will see the exhibition of the winners and great designers projects. The finalists will be rewarded in that occasion from a prestigious jury and will win the realization of their own work in order to `adorn’ with light and creativity the city in the month of December 2009.
Out of competition: a special invitation will be addressed to the great masters of the design, ten excellent names both Italians and foreigners. Their projects will illuminate Milan for the next Christmas period alongside the works of the young talents.
Milan, already Capital of the design, becomes with LED an international display window, a place of innovation able to offer a stimulating ‘cultural experience’ for the exchange and the comparison of knowledge. An appointment that involves the entire creative and productive system of the metropolis, increasing from the first edition the expositive circuit from the public places to the art galleries, the ateliers and the shows-room, in a logic of a widespread event that can involve the city to 360 degrees.
Nope. It’s not a Vespa-type scooter or a little car. It’s a little fish.
A couple of months ago, while at the Saturday market, I was overwhelmed by the seafood choices I had no familiarity with. No halibut, salmon or rock cod here. There was fish I knew nothing about except for a couple I had ordered from menus: orata and branzino. “But what do I do with it?” Besides. I had neither a filet knife nor knife sharpener, so I was ill-prepared.
Having just returned from a visit to Seattle this week, (filet knife and EZE-Lap sharpener in hand), hankerin’ for fish*, and doing a “fast stroll” near the Naviglio Grande (the big canal) I found a street-side fish market in my path. “Uno branzino”, I said to the guy. He wrapped it up. I paid 4 Euro, 6 bucks. I threw it in my bag and went on to shop for fabric. (Fabric and fish in the same bag? Hmm.)
(*By the way, can one ” have a hankerin’ ” in Italy. I’m not sure the translation works.)
Saturday evening. Canal-side. The place was lively with people strolling at a slow pace. Here I was, trying to keep my usual 4.5 mile-per-hour Indian Trail pace. (Fat chance, Maureen. Take it easy! Relax for once.) Maybe that’s something Italy will teach me: how to stroll properly, without being “on a mission”.
At 7:00, I stepped into the little fabric store NOT like those in the U.S.! Dark, jammed floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, and much of it had probably been there a long time. I was looking for, and found, fabric for a baby quilt. (Just try buying quilting supplies in Italian!) I left moments before they closed at 7:30.
It was the first time in 4 months I had gone out in public wearing blue jeans (!) and tennis shoes (not quite blinding white). I had been cleaning all day and felt like being comfy. At 8:00 in the evening, sleeveless, it was muggy enough that I was working up a sticky sweat. (All the more reason to slow down.) Most everyone else was either paired up or on-the-make, so blue jeans and tennis shoes never entered their minds, I’m sure!
Meanwhile, I had a scantily-wrapped branzino in my bag with baby quilt fabric, so I figured I’d better hustle to the grocery store, buy whatever else I needed, and get home and cook!
I hadn’t noticed at the fish stall that the fish had not been gutted. No problem. I’ve gutted many a fish in my day. And I found out that branzino, (which is actually a European Seabass), has a pretty wicked, spiny dorsal fin! A pair of scissors made short work of those half dozen thorns.
Based on it’s size, roughly 11″ stem-to-stern, I figured I could cook a branzino much like a nice-sized rainbow trout. Flour, salt, pepper, mixed herbs…and since I had just been in Seattle, I threw in some of Chef Tom Douglas’ Salmon Rub (Brown Sugar, Paprika and thyme). A little extra virgin in my new grill pan, crank up the heat and throw on the fish. Veggies searing in the pan next door promised a lovely dinner.
(By the way, note the pan in the upper left. I’ve boiled water for coffee twice and that’s the amount of white, calcium build-up that occurs! I have to scrub the pan hard every day.)
Ahh. The smell of fish cooking with oil. One would think it’s a good time to open the windows, especially on a muggy night! No way! I wouldn’t sleep all night; the mosquitos would eat me alive. I opted for the fishy smell and a good night’s sleep.
“Mr. Branzino” cooked for about 20 minutes or so. Perfection. A glass of Grillo from Sicilia, a couple slices of cornmeal bread and at 9:30 I was ready to eat. Note that the branzino is served up right alongside my Mac, my updated to-do list, the utility bill from the landlady, a job ticket, trip receipts and hardware warranty info.
Delicately flavored. White. Moist. Cooked perfectly. Mmm. In trout fashion, I lifted the tail and peeled the spine and upper half away from the lower. I didn’t eat the skin because trying to scale the fish earlier had been making more of a mess than necessary, so I simply lifted the fish flakes away from the skin and gobbled them. Then I flipped the other half, easily lifted the skeleton and enjoyed the rest of the fish. What a delicious meal!
FROM WIKIPEDIA:
The European seabass, Dicentrarchus labrax, also known as Morone labrax, is a primarily ocean-going fish that sometimes enters brackish and fresh water. It is also known as the sea dace. As a food fish, it is often marketed as mediterranean seabass, bronzini or branzini(“branzino” is the name of the fish in Northern Italy; in other parts of the country it is called “spigola” or “ragno”). In Spain, it is called “lubina”. It has silver sides and a white belly. Juvenile fish maintain black spots on the back and sides, a feature that can create confusion with Dicentrarchus punctatus. This fish’s operculum is serrated and spined. It can grow to a total length of over 1 m (3.3 ft) and 15 kg of weight.
Its habitats include estuaries, lagoons, coastal waters and rivers. It is found in the waters in and around Europe, including the eastern Atlantic Ocean (from Norway to Senegal), the Mediterranean Sea and the Black Sea.
It is mostly a night hunter, feeding on small fish, polychaetes, cephalopods and crustaceans.
The fish has come under increasing pressure from commercial fishing and has recently become the focus in the United Kingdom of a conservation effort by recreational anglers. In Italy the seabass is subject of intensive breeding in salt waters.
