A menu reminiscent of Mediterranean glimpses, with detail from the Tintoretto: haute cuisine from Campania splashes into the Lagoon, thanks to the arrival of Luigi Lionetti, formerly Capri's first Michelin-starred chef.
Venice is a "quiet chaos," where it seems like everyone is in motion, but no one can avoid stopping to catch with their eyes that endless stream of busyness bound to flow parallel to calli and campielli. After all, you know already that, all of a sudden, you'll get lost among golden paper cones of fried cod and neon road signs to reach Rialto, gaining a place in paradise to the tune of international chatters, as you wait to capture one of Italy's most impressive bridges. Odi et amo, the city on the water, is still an attractive open-air contradiction. But it has a consistency of its own, and it lies precisely in having managed to create a hard core of disparate gastronomy beyond the sestrieri worn out by tourism.
Venice mixes cultures, absorbs diversity and assimilates novelty with blatant nonchalance. Thus, it happens that a Campanian ray brightens a lagoon-view sign; the South docking at the port, to add to the mosaic of local evergreens. Luigi Lionetti, the first Michelin-starred chef originally from Capri, where he showcased the Star for four years until he cast off his moorings to northern shores, attempts the feat. Destination, Ca' di Dio, the VRetreats group's flagship hotel in the Serenissima, as close to Piazza San Marco as it is secluded from the barbaric horde of the scorching summer months.
You almost arrive in front of it - hair in the wind - with a ferry or a taxi boat; you wonder at the seemingly basic façade, which invites you to enter to pierce the curtain of building mystery; you discover there, right from the lobby, the irreverent hand of Patricia Urquiola, a sort of design Sibyl, who has managed this time to transform a former shelter for pilgrims with the mirage of the Holy Land (yes, this was the original vocation of the structure, restored 500 years ago by Jacopo Sansovino,) into an architecturally peculiar 5-star hotel for Riva degli Schiavoni, on which it discreetly overlooks, concealing unexpected interiors.
Here, in just a few weeks of break-in, Lionetti seems to have set a table that is no less promising, bringing to VERO - fine dining carved out of a quiet hotel corner, to accommodate a handful of diners, but good ones - a concept that debunks the usual blend of gourmand rituals emulsified out of time and space.
Goal: to tell you you're in Venice without telling you you're in Campania: the menu's gentle font is a Capri glimpse with a Tintoretto detail, an encounter of two opposite cookbooks, with the same layout. Translated, it means an emphasis on fish and a wide repertoire of "free-hand" pastas, plus the global approach that is typical of harbor centers, mirrored on the plate.
The difference? "I have a garden within reach of the brigade," says the chef, "because I love to stay in tune with the land wherever I am: in my courses, it is always the crisp taste of the first fruits that shuttles between dishes." But intuitions travel at high speed from South to North, "so I have crammed several signature dishes into my suitcase. Then, perhaps, in the menu opener, I'll match ravioli from Capri with a profiterole of baccalà mantecato," for a cross-regional aperitif that sets the mind and stomach on the journey.
The outcome is intriguing: it combines Mediterranean flicker and Venetian robustness, the prominence of the cereal (in addition to first courses, bread service transversally touches on all expressions of leavened food) and the redemption of humble products, capable of holding its own against prime ones. Something that may have been missing in the city, and that immediately piqued the interest of foodies on the lookout.
The hotel
Lionetti should be credited with the ability to settle in naturally, slowly carving out his own progressive edge on the all-day-long menu. This is evidenced by the assorted good morning symposium effect, where sfogliatelle ricce and veneziane with cream, caprese cakes and fluffy pangoccioli, local tramezzini and intercontinental toast appear. Except that, on the tables in the inner courtyard, greened by a garden that expands the boundaries of holiday idleness, ricottine from Veneto also land, to whiten warm oven-baked bread, giving the seasoned and area cured meats a run for their money in a tailor-made protein portrait.
Will this be the right excuse to turn yourself into a morning tourist? Yes, be aware: you will probably need it. The 57 suites and 9 hotel rooms are, in fact, a kind of extension of the city's appearance, thanks to wooden frames, wood paneling and adorned fabrics, which call to mind the evanescence of urbanism suspended between waves and solidity.
Hence, you stop suddenly to admire the glass sharing the scene with the wrought iron; the pastel-centered palette, with brief earthy hints near the brick; the elegant squiggles and linearity of the overlooks, with a panoramic snapshot among the best in the Maritime Republic. Those tired of the wanderings (and related endless queues) along the streets of the "must see" can, however, equally bask in the relaxation of the Reading room on the first floor or be comforted by the marinated carpaccio with red fruits of Alchemia Bar, a valid antidote against the August heat, while at dusk the cocktail bar glitters, ready to see a parade of far more alcoholic digressions than the usual Bellini.
Anyway, the experience at Ca' di Dio will indistinctly remain that of wandering through Venice on a smaller scale, complicit in the spaces attuned to the mood - sometimes austere, sometimes extroverted - of the lagoon surroundings.
VERO: how's the food in in-house fine dining, with Luigi Lionetti's cuisine
"One of the most important things (when it comes to painting) is being able to stop at the right time, to know when something (a picture) is saying what it can say." Don't worry, we won't surrender any further to the allure of quotes, but Jon Fosse 's seemed the right premise to introduce the thinking behind the rebirth of VERO. Yes, because in Lionetti's paths, an impression of widespread measure leaps to the palate: the zen-like flair of someone who has learned to stop right there, on the ridge of flavor, dodging easy excesses.
Not surprisingly, the tasting menus offered by the Caprese chef - flanked by sous chef Gabriel Collazzo - are deliberately inclusive: Vero (4 vegetable-based courses), Arsenale (5 dishes, balanced between seafood and land-based products), and Incontro (7 acts of greater structure), to which are added "smart" options of two or three courses, freely composable by the guest. Talking about wine pairing, the factual limitations of a cellar currently in the making, are filled by the talents of Fabio Santilli - on paper the Food and Beverage manager of the establishment, in fact a skillful interpreter of the unexpressed cravings of diners, from the unprecedented sparkling wine to the ritual sweet wine.
Far too eclectic in its hit parade of mixed doughs, the bakery, whether it is sinking molars into the slice of potato focaccia - with "triple national mousse" of buffalo mozzarella, tomato and basil - or breaking the rhythm of the sequence with a savory baba with olives or making the scarpetta by dunking a winking chocolate pagnottina into the sauce of the main courses. The amuse bouche, on the other hand, plumbs a looping herbarium.
"For example, with the freshly harvested seedlings, I make an emulsion that serves as an explosive filling for the burnt wheat bon bon," the chef explains in advance; the boost of essential oils to shake the taste buds from the torpor of fasting. Or, the push of marjoram in the filling of ravioli capresi, that from the double cooking (steamed and baked) boosts the typical tomato and basil outer topping, shifting the axis of the morsel to a decidedly vegetable flavor. It's the technique that bows to nature, not vice versa.
The green deal continues in Seasonal Salad, a starter often centered on the classic refrain of aesthetically perfect and aromatically weak leaves. In response, Lionetti makes it a partly liquid, partly textural mix, somewhere between the scents of domestic soups left to warm and crudités soundly munched at the start of a meal. Two memories in one, shake and savor. In our instance, there was burnt cabbage to give depth and crunchy leeks to trigger mordency; lacto-fermented raspberries for acidic balance and caraway apple for the refresh finish. Next series? No spoilers; the harvest will reveal it. With the Shrimp Bon Bon, close your eyes and in seconds generate a coastal snapshot: you're almost at the far end of Italy.
At the center is an edible bling of Mazara del Vallo shrimp, caviar and almond, with the dried fruit puree, which on the one hand echoes the crustacean's envelopment, and on the other magically shortens the trail of residual salinity. The subtle bitterness of Nocellara olive base and tomato water summons the Mediterranean, and the candied lemon celebrates it in the closing. When the signature dish is not self-promotion, but the representation of respect for a whole ecosystem. We return to base by savoring the Animella from North to South, a carnivorous interlude in which, however, the vegetable - but would better say: "friarielli veraci"- chosen ad hoc to mitigate, with a pleasant pungency, the emaciation of the innards.
Of rare clarity is the Risotto Riserva San Massimo, lemon, burrata and langoustines, set to a score of green notes, thanks to the addition of seaweed and capers from the lively iodized backlash. Then comes to you, in slow motion, the milky enjoyment, the double citrus that rejuvenates the jaw (in the shape of broth and grated zest on top) and a lash of savoriness sufficient to justify the dish pulled together despite the generous portion.
More pop and direct are the Cappelletti di Parmigiano Reggiano Vacche Rosse, where the triumvirate of truffle, caviar and lobster cloaks the pasta with a precious mantle, as well as particularly long in umami return. A slot of iridescent spoonfuls - from the undergrowth to the seabed to the pastoral hinterland - actually brings mouth-watering-ness, relaunching interest for subsequent runs.
Among the main courses, the Montello lamb with black garlic cream and Pak choi remains in the lead, made lively by the bitter orange that hijacks the comfort stock on slightly abrasive nuances. How to turn a signature cut of homemade use into a daring epilogue, which comes to the table with a mock landing to immediately regain altitude. And it is precisely the orange that scores again in the door, going to perfume the quenelle of ice cream arranged over our dessert with coffee, hazelnut and rice mousse: pastry chef Alessia Petruzzo is among the few who understood how to light the fireworks after 2 hours of dinner.
Contacts
Ca' di Dio- VERO
Riva Ca' di Dio, 2183, 30122 Venezia VE
Phone: 041 098 0238
