Birthday dinner

Corte della Pazienza, Venice, June 7, 2011—

FIDDLING AROUND WITH your fourth quarter-century brings Pazienza to mind: what better place to celebrate a 76th? So we did something we haven't done in weeks: actually reserved a table in a restaurant.

A nearby one, because we knew we'd be late; knew it would likely rain, and suspected high water. In the end, only the first-listed transpired.

We began with the house appetizer, a platter of periwinkles, squid, little fish, a good-sized prawn, a scallop-shell filled with goodies including of course scallop, baccalà, and arugula. We went on to pasta: mine was spaghetti carbonara, and was nearly as good as eating in Trastevere.

Some of us, but not the birthday girl, went on to yet another course: fritto misto: squid, shrimp and prawn (which I did not eat), fish; and verdure cotte: eggplant, porcini, and — oddly — Brussels sprouts, all of them quite delicious.

We liked this place. A snug pretty room, good service, nice cooking, clean and attractive, with an authentic Venetian feel. I'd come back any time.

White wine in carafe (and very good it was)

• Casa Bonita, Sestiere Cannaregio, 492, Venezia; 041 5246164

Carla

Corte della Pazienza, Venice, June 6, 2011—

WE WALKED DOWN TO San Marco today to take in the Correr Museum, partly for learning and culture, partly to keep out of the rain; and afterward, when we really did need to sit down for a while, I recalled a plain-and-simple joint nearby I'd read about on John Whiting's estimable website. It hadn't been tops on my list of places I want to visit, but it was nearby, we were tired, it was rather late (three o'clock), and it was raining, so in we went.

Cozy room. Twenty places at the tables. Friendly rushed waitress. Vague menu offering only categories (pasta of the day, Venice specialties, that sort of thing). But somehow homey and promising. We ordered a plate of vegetable for the table, and they were nice: carrots, eggplant, potatoes, onions, all sliced up and sautéed in oil and carefully salted.

Then I had baccalà manteca, for the third or fourth time in the last couple of weeks. The salt cod is soaked in several changes of water, cooked until tender, shredded with one's fingers, then beaten with olive oil as if one were making mayonnaise. The result, as you see, is not particularly photogenic, but it is delicious. Pungent, soft, textured, long on the palate. It's always served with polenta, just salt cod and polenta; and it's always welcome.

Tocai di Friuli in carafe

• Osteria Da Carla, 1535, S. Marco, Venezia (in the Sotoportego Corte Contarina, off the Frezzaria); 041 523 7855

Joint effort

Corte della Pazienza, Venice, June 5, 2011—

BACK IN OUR TEMPORARY home, after a three-day holiday in Friuli, we decided it was time for a home-cooked meal. I peeled and cut up a number of potatoes and cooked them slowly in olive oil, salted of course, along with a few unpeeled garlic cloves, and a couple of onions which I'd peeled, tipped, and quartered, leaving the root end intact so they wouldn't fall apart.

Lindsey cut up a head of cauliflower and steamed it in salted water with a little olive oil, and I made the vinaigrette for the green salad, using lemon instead of vinegar. I quickly seared three scalloppini of vitelloni — the nearest equivalent I can think of in English is "baby beef," which we used to eat when I was a kid, but which I haven't seen or heard of since.

A simple meal, almost colorless. But tasty and easy.

Bianco Costaiolo, Frassine, nv (not very good, but cheap)

Last night at Cristofoli

Albergo Cristofori, Treppo Carnico, Friuli, June 4, 2011—

LAST NIGHT IN TWO senses: I write about this the next day, as you'll have seen by the datelines; and then it was also our last night's dinner at this delightful country albergo, where we had been received as honored guests, I've no idea why.

In the afternoon our hostess — let's call her Dora; I think I heard someone refer to her by that name — had proposed a risotto for the three of us as a first course, and we jumped at the suggestion. So that was how we began the meal: a beautifully made risotto, both creamy and al dente, based on chicken stock of course, flavored subtly but definitely with silex leaves.

I've since looked Silene vulgaris up in Wikipedia; it's what is called campion or bladderflower or, in our family, balloonflower. It grows wild; no need to cultivate it; and it's one of a number of greens foraged in the wild that crop up — ah, there — in la cucina povera, peasant cuisine. Such herbs are said to be particularly nutritious; they're also often strongly flavored, useful in heightening what might otherwise be a drab diet.

(English-language Wikipedia mentions only Spain in describing culinary use of silene; the Italian-language version is considerably more edifying.)

What with the stridoli, as the herb's called in Friulano, and the discreet use of Parmigiana, this risotto was anything but drab, and revealed a fine hand — which is consistent with the other meals we've had here. It was followed by little pork-loin cutlets nicely pan-seared and served with peperonata, grilled, then braised red and yellow peppers, sharp and sweet; and then a green salad.

The dessert was truly memorable: bowls of the tiniest little strawberries, (fragolini di bosco, fraises des bois), smaller than any I've seen except growing wild high in the Alps in France. There was nothing to be said about this: there's a particular kind of truth that transcends language. As had happened at the two previous meals, we all simply exchanged glances and grunted quietly. If you have to have a last dinner, this is the way to do it.

White wine in carafe

• Albergo Cristofoli, Treppo Carnico, Friuli

Location:Treppo Carnica, Friuli

Cucina Carnica

Albergo Cristofori, Treppo Carnico, Friuli, June 3, 2011—

VERY DIFFICULT TO WRITE about the food here. Carnica is a small region on the Austrian border, in the region of Friuli Veneto Giulio. Its cuisine is based of course on the products of its own soil and on its socio-political history. The first is fairly simple, dependent on soil and climate; the second is complex in the extreme.

The soil and climate gives wild herbs, corn, potatoes, milk and cheese, fruit and vegetables in season. The history gives influences from both Italy and Austria; from the Austro-Hungarian Empire; through Venice from Asia.

So tonight I began with an insalata di Speck: bacon salad. Lettuces, thin-sliced raw smoked bacon, and pickled zucchini, in a sweet-sour dressing. Then, Cjasons: something between ravioli and pot-stickers, filled with a sweet-savory mixture involving potato, mint, lemon-balm, cheese, and raisins. Afterward, Frico: potato and cheese cooked into a sort of thick pancake, served with a buckwheat polenta. Finally, a mixed salad of lettuces and grated carrot, simply dressed at the table.

This is heavy going, no doubt: cucina povera; peasant cooking. It's mountain food, and we were near snow today. It's a far cry from the simple fish and cichetti of Venice, but it's very much Veneto. What an interesting, complex world this is, and how beautifully it's expressed in its local cuisines!

White wine in carafe

• Albergo Cristofoli, Treppo Carnico, Friuli

Cucina povera

Treppo Carnica, June 2, 2011—

A VACATION FROM VENICE, not entirely voluntary: it's such a busy weekend our apartment had been rented out for this weekend a year ago, so we have to get out of town. Let's go to the mountains!

We rented a car and, having consulted the Slow Food guide Locanda d'Italia, which lists "slow" places in the country (and the cities) where quality of life trumps trendiness, drove a couple of hours north deep into Friuli, a part of Italy we've never explored. I'll write elsewhere about the town, the albergo, and the area — if I pry myself away from the table.

Having lunched in the car, in a way, we had to wait for dinner to find out what we'd got ourselves into. Heaven, I think. I started with a magnificent plate of salumi: prosciutto, guanciale, salami, and bresaola, with a couple of hot little peppers stuffed with anchovy paste. My pasta was soft and delicate gnocchi flavored with silene, which grows wild as a weed but is harvested as a vegetable. (Lindsey had delicious little soufflées flavored with the same herb, for her antipasto.

My secondo was a simple slice of roast veal, nicely cooked, salted, and flavored with its own meat, with mashed potatoes on the side; and a simple green salad and the local cheese — both fresh and two years old — finished things off. What a fine dinner. "Cucina povera e semplice," the cook said to us — simple, poor people's cooking. "Ma cucina buona," we replied.

White and red wine in carafe

Albergo Cristofolo, Treppo Carnico, Friuli

Sandwich

Campiello della Pazienza, June 1, 2011—

WE SPENT THE DAY at the Biennale today — well, partly at the Biennale, partly walking there and back: probably three miles each way, what with getting turned around and all. That works up an appetite, but the art took some of it away: and then, there aren't that many places to eat much more than a sandwich around there.

So that's what we did: ate a sandwich. A tartaruga, in fact; a turtle. Not a real one, of course: a sandwich on a bun whose general shape and size apparently looked like a tortoise to someone. Ours had prosciutto and brie and arugula in it, and on the side I asked for a bowl of small-leafed arugula which we oiled and salted. Not bad. Not memorable, and I didn't take note of the name of the place; but not bad.

White wine in carafe

Back home, finally, we had prosciutto and a delicious little melon from Sicily; then penne with butter, olive oil, and sage; and for a special treat a dessert: an apricot jam crostata from a shop down the street.

Fragolino as an aperitivo; Prosecco spento