Western Living

My Table in Venice

After a quarter-century, Gary Stephen Ross returns to Italy and finds that the world has discovered his favourite haunt. Can today’s Osteria da Fiore measure up to his gilded memories?

Photographs by Clinton Hussey | Styling by Murray Bancroft

Life has its magical interludes, those conjunctions of time and place and circumstances so sweet that you know, as you live them, you’ll never forget them. In Venice, in the mid 1980s, I was footloose and fancy-free, living in a lovely little apartment that was once a sculptor’s studio. It came complete with new appliances, a patio and even a garden, a precious rarity in the Serenissima. My landlords were a retired doctor and his wife and their mischievous daughter, Francesca. At night, in the garden, sipping hazelnut liqueur from their property at Asolo, we could hear gondolas slipping by in the dark.

Across Campo San Polo, and over a little bridge, was a modest spot you could walk by without realizing it was a restaurant. Osteria Da Fiore was owned by friends of Francesca’s, Maurizio and Mara Martin, and many a night a group of us would end up there for a late dinner. The no-frills room was often crowded and noisy. But the food! Every so often the handsome Maurizio would appear with another dish Mara had sent from the kitchen: capelunghe (scallops hiding in long, tube-like shells), or frittura (a deep-fried feast mainly of minnow-sized fish), or a seafood pasta dish, or grilled branzino (sea bass), or-my favourite-bowls of risotto nero. The black squid ink infused the carnaroli rice with a maritime essence that seemed to me the flavour of Venice itself. Jugs of local pinot grigio would disappear empty, return full.

At the end of the meal, as we made our happily sated way into the night, someone would remember to ask Maurizio about the check. "Venti a testa"-20,000 lire, or about $16 each. These were among the most memorable dinners I’d ever had, at a price that defied sense, and I cannot profess surprise that the room was discovered one summer by a New York Times critic whose glowing review triggered an inundation of American tourists, a complete renovation and the gradual evolution into what da Fiore is today: an elegant, Michelin-starred room that’s been called everything from the best restaurant in Venice to one of the best seafood restaurants in the world.

Returning to anything after a quarter-century is a tricky business-memory has a way of buffing the good times to a lustrous sheen-and when I finally arranged a trip back to Venice and made a lunch reservation at Fiore (with Francesca agreeing to help as interpreter), I frankly worried that either I had romanticized the fare back then or else would find myself critical of the new, upscale iteration and pining for the old.

My fears were instantly allayed. Maurizio, trim and elegant as ever-though now, at age 54, in designer suits and spectacles-greeted us with familiar warmth (and a perfectly bitter spritz). The cosy L-shaped room, entered via a small mirrored bar and extended by an intimate table over the canal, had been transformed with careful regard for aesthetics (the water glasses were works of art by the Murano designer Carlo Moretti) and acoustics (hence the curved wooden ceiling). Mara popped out to say hello and to apologize that she could not vacate the kitchen until after service.

Thank goodness for that. Every dish she sent out showed the imaginative simplicity for which she’s been praised by everyone from Patricia Wells and Marcella Hazan to Daniel Boulud and Joël Robuchon. For starters, the gazpacho: brilliantly elevated by paper-thin slices of strawberry and octopus. The tuna carpaccio, delicate and bright-flavoured, served with shrimp and tranches of baby purple artichoke, blood orange and shaved fennel. The plump oysters: still almost raw, yet in a piping batter that was impossibly crisp and light. The soft-shell crab, tempura style, on a little mound of milky white polenta, served with a black polenta crisp infused with squid ink and sprinkled with sesame. The guanciale-wrapped shrimp, served on vanilla-dusted toasts and delicately topped with deep-fried rosemary. The extraordinarily assembled seafood salad. The rustic risi e bisi (rice and peas), infused with bits of pancetta and topped with parmesan. The miracles kept coming, helped along by bottles of the revelatory 2008 Pieropan pinot grigio, remembrance of things past and much contented laughter.

As we undertook dessert-a warm chocolate cake with coffee sauce, raspberries and mint-Mara emerged from the kitchen to join us. The talk turned to how she first learned to cook; she said she could no more remember than she could recall learning to walk. Her grandmother in Mirano (just north of Venice, where she and Maurizio, childhood sweethearts, grew up) taught her something new each day, and so she arrived at Fiore (which she and Maurizio bought in 1978) with an encyclopedic understanding of how to prepare the local dishes. That knowledge has since given rise to one cookbook, with HarperCollins lobbying for another. Small wonder that their son, Damiano, who grew up in the osteria, has opened a room of his own, Réfolo, in a nearby campo.

One of Mara’s innovations has been to work the contorni-vegetables and other side dishes, traditionally ordered separately-into the seafood main courses, allowing for striking new iterations of flavour and texture. "Chefs need two things," she summed up. "Curiosity and passion."

And great ingredients, of course. Here Maurizio shines. His network of suppliers reaches back 30 years, and every evening he phones these fishermen, learning what species are where and what the expected catches might be. At 3 each morning (except for Sunday and Monday, when the restaurant is closed) he sends the restaurant’s boat to the wholesale fish market at Chioggia, south of Venice, to pick up what he’s ordered; it returns, laden, after dawn, and Mara then devises the day’s menu.

Are seafood stocks declining here, as in so many parts of the world? "Each year is worse than the last," said Maurizio. "The fishermen catch less, and often they have to go out farther and stay out longer." Mara nodded: "A few years ago we paid $6/kilogram for schie [baby shrimp]. This year it’s $18."

A cheese tray appeared, nine perfectly arranged and sized portions, served at the perfect temperature, to be eaten in prescribed order, along with a few walnuts, grapes and a dab of muted honey. Petit fours, a glass of moscato and a cup of espresso completed the comestibles, though not the conversation.

The meal was, in a word, exquisite; some things never change. The bill for three of us (had Maurizio allowed us to pay it) would have been at least $700; some things do. Let’s just say that lunch at Fiore, after a 25-year absence, was another of those magical interludes that you know, as you savour it, you will never forget. wl

RECIPES FROM VENICE
By Mara Martin of Osteria da Fiore restaurant in Venice.

Venetian Black Squid Ink Risotto Recipe
Makes 4 first-course servings

This dramatic risotto, glossy black with the stewed ink of local cuttlefish, is one of da Fioreís most traditional dishes, and it never fails to raise the eyebrows of those who order it for the first time. After one bite, says Maurizio Mara, theyíre instant fansóseppia is sweeter and more tender than calamari, and its ink is far richer. The secret ingredient in this risotto is the lemon zest, which adds an aromatic lift to the seppiaís briny flavour.

2 cups short-grain rice (preferably carnaroli or vialone nano)
1/2 recipe Black Squid Venetian Style (see below)
1 1/3 litres simmering fish or vegetable broth
2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 tbsp unsalted butter
Grated zest from 1 lemon
Salt

Combine the rice and squid mixture in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring often, until the rice absorbs most of the moisture from the squid. Add a cup of broth. Cook at an aggressive boil, stirring often, for 16ñ17 minutes, adding a cup of broth at a time as necessary. (The rice should almost completely absorb the liquid between additions.)

When the rice is al dente and the mixture moist but not watery, remove pan from heat. Stir in the parsley and butter and adjust seasoning with salt to taste. Divide among serving plates and top with lemon zest. Serve immediately.

Black Squid Venetian Style Recipe
Makes 4 servings

Squid stewed in its own ink is a specialty of many coastal cuisines, but no one has refined it or made it so much their own as the Venetians. Served over polenta or stirred into a risotto, its black sauce is visually arresting and compellingly sweet.

In Venice, seppie in nero, or ìsquid in its own ink,î is made with cuttlefish. All cephalopods create ink, which they release to defend themselves against predators, but cuttlefish produce much more ink and have more delicate flesh than either calamari or octopus.

1/4 cup olive oil
2 garlic cloves, crushed but kept whole
1/2 small onion, diced
1/2 celery stalk, diced
1 bay leaf
3 lbs cleaned squid, bodies cut into small triangles, tentacles sliced lengthwise
1/4 cup dry white wine
Half a 14.5-oz can peeled whole tomatoes, cut into pieces
1 tbsp black squid ink
Salt

Heat olive oil in a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan set over medium heat. Add the garlic, onion, celery and bay leaf and cook, stirring, until softened (about 5 minutes). Discard garlic. Add squid, increase heat to medium-high, and cook, stirring often, for another 5 minutes. Pour in the wine, and let evaporate into a couple of tablespoons. Add tomatoes and some of their juice. Add the black squid ink and season with salt. Lower heat to a gentle simmer, cover, and cook until squid is tender and most of the liquid is absorbed (about 50 minutes). Serve immediately with white soft polenta.

Maurizio suggests: The rich, briny taste of squid ink calls for a crisp white wine, such as a sauvignon blanc.

Rice and Peas Recipe
Makes 6 servings

When green peas were first brought to Venice during the Renaissance, they were as prized and as rare as truffles. Risi e bisi, a rice and pea risotto in a luxurious broth made from the shells and shoots, flecked with pancetta and parsley and perfumed with cinnamon, was served to the doge annually on April 25, Veniceís feast day, called La Festa Di San Marco.

Peas are at their peak of flavour on this day every year, but for this recipe, even frozen peas will work. Because they love the luxurious broth so much, Venetians prefer to prepare this like a soup, so itís the only risotto they serve with a spoon.

2.5 lbs fresh peas in their pods
2 3/4 litres water
Salt
3 tbsp unsalted butter
2 tbsp olive or sunflower oil
2 oz pancetta, diced
1 small yellow onion, minced
1/2 cinnamon stick
1.5 lbs (3 cups) carnaroli or vialone nano rice
Ω bunch flat-leaf parsley leaves, minced
1/3 cup freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano, plus some for sprinkling
Freshly ground black pepper

Shell the peas, reserving pods. Place pods in a medium pot with salted water. Bring to a boil over high heat, reduce to medium-low and simmer, uncovered, for 1 hour.

Strain broth into a medium pot, pressing on the pods. Discard pods. Keep broth warm over medium heat.

Combine oil and 1 tbsp of butter in a large, heavy pot over medium heat. Add pancetta and onion and cook, stirring, until the onion is golden (about 10 minutes). Add peas, cinnamon stick and Ω cup of broth. Cover and cook until peas are tender (about 5 minutes).

Increase heat to high, uncover, and cook off any remaining liquid. Add rice and stir to coat well. Add about æ cup warm broth and cook, stirring constantly, until most of the broth has been absorbed. Add about æ cup more broth. Continue cooking, stirring and adding broth as needed, until rice is tender but firm to the bite (about 18 minutes). Remove from heat and stir in just enough broth (about 1 cup) so that the rice is loose but not watery (risi e bisi should be slightly soupier than ordinary risotto). Stir in the remaining 2 tbsp butter, the parsley and 1/3 cup parmigiano. Cover and let rest for a few minutes. Serve with additional parmigiano-reggiano and sprinkle with black pepper.

Venetian Seafood Stew Recipe
Makes 6 servings

From Trieste to Chioggia to Venezia, every cook in every town along the Adriatic Coast makes his or her own version of this traditional, one-pot seafood stew. This brodetto, called broeto in Venetian dialect, is true to its centuries-old tradition: its mild broth, laced with a touch of thyme and fresh vegetables, accentuates the flavours of the fish without any of the heavy seasonings characteristic of other Mediterranean fish stews, such as ciuppin and burrida from Liguria, cacciucco from Tuscany and, of course, bouillabaisse from France.

Although the ingredient list is long, the recipe is simple. Exact portioning and mandatory ingredients violate the soulful spirit of brodetto; if you canít find all the types of fish listed here, feel free to give and take. Just make sure that the total weight of the fish adds up.

Brodetto can be enjoyed immediately, but itís better the next day. Sprinkle it with some fresh basil leaves (torn with your hands, not cut with a knife) just before serving. Donít wait much longer than 24 hours to enjoy brodetto, though, since the flavour of the soup grows stronger as it sits, and the fish will fall apart.

8 oz mussels, beards removed, scrubbed and well rinsed
8 oz clams, scrubbed and well rinsed
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
1 carrot, peeled and finely chopped
1/4 onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed but kept whole
Leaves from 3 sprigs thyme
1 medium tomato, peeled, seeded and chopped
8 oz baby calamari, cleaned (if you can find only large calamari, cut them in half)
8 oz medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
3 oz red mullet fillet, cut into 1-inch pieces
3 oz sole fillet, cut into 1-inch pieces
3 oz halibut fillet, cut into 1-inch pieces
3 oz monkfish fillet, cut into 1-inch pieces
3 large scallops, halved crosswise
1 cup dry white wine
1 3/4 litres simmering fish broth

Place the mussels and clams in a medium saucepan. Add a cup of water, cover, and cook over medium-high heat until the shells are open (about 6 minutes). Discard any unopened shells. Let cool slightly, then remove meat from the clams and mussels. Set aside. Reserve the cooking liquid.

In a large saucepan or braising pan, heat oil over medium-low heat. Add celery, carrot, onion, garlic and thyme and cook, stirring often, for 10 minutes (do not allow the vegetables to brown). Add tomato and cook for another 5 minutes. Remove and discard garlic.

Add baby calamari and cook, stirring occasionally, for 2 minutes. Add the shrimp; cook for 1 minute. Season red mullet, sole, halibut and monkfish with salt and add to pan along with the scallops. Gently move fish around the pan to cook evenly. After 2ñ3 minutes, add white wine and cook until it is reduced by half. Add reserved liquid from the clams and mussels; leave behind the bottom quarter of the liquid, which will likely contain sand. Using a ladle, spoon in the simmering fish broth. Immediately remove pan from heat. Adjust the seasoning to taste and serve immediately, or cool quickly in an ice bath and serve, reheated, the next day.

Fried Soft-Shell Crabs on Arugula and Orange Salad Recipe
Makes 4 servings

The crab fishermen who hail from Burano and Torcello catch these crabs and put them in underwater boxes. Every day, they check to see if the crabs have shed their shells yet, and usher them to the market at the exact moment they molt. The females shed their shells only in the autumn and are best in October and November, when they contain their roe.

Traditionally, handfuls of live crabs are placed in a batter of egg and parmigiano for an hour so that when theyíre fried they puff up inside. Prepared this way, the batter, not the delicate crabmeat, is what you taste. Instead, Mara Martin uses a lighter batter and accompanies the crabs with a zippy orange-arugula salad tossed with peppery Tuscan oil.

12 small soft-shell crabs
2 oranges
2 lemons
1 recipe da Fiore Batter (see below)
1 3/4 litres corn or sunflower oil for frying
Salt
6 cups baby arugula, cleaned
4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

To clean crabs, peel back the pointed part of the shell and scrape away the gills from each side. Hold the crab in the palm of your hand, using kitchen shears or sharp scissors to cut off the head. Squeeze out the green bubble behind the eyes. Bend back the apron (the thin flap on the underside of the crab) and twist until it breaks off. Rinse crab with water and drain.

Carefully peel the oranges and lemons, removing all the bitter white pith and completely exposing the bright flesh. Using a sharp paring knife, remove the segments from the membranes by sliding the knife on both sides, then lifting the segment out. Place in a bowl and set aside.

In a large Dutch oven or deep-fat fryer, heat oil on medium heat until a deep-fat thermometer registers 350∫F (very hot but not smoking).

One by one, pass the crabs through the flour; shake off any excess, then immerse in the cold batter. One by one, carefully place the batter-coated crabs in the hot oil. Cook, in two to three batches, until crisp and golden brown (about 2 minutes per side). As they cook, transfer them to a paper towel-lined sheet pan and lightly season with salt.

To serve, place a mound of arugula on each serving plate and scatter some orange and lemon segments over the top. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Top each salad with three soft-shelled crabs and serve.

Da Fiore Batter Recipe

3 cups all-purpose flour
5 cups water
2 tsp salt
6 ice cubes
Corn or sunflower oil for frying

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, water and salt to form a smooth, thin batter. Stir in the ice cubes and set aside for at least 30 minutes. Before using batter, add a few more ice cubes and thin with a little water if necessary.

Warm Chocolate Cake da Fiore Recipe
Makes six 4-ounce ramekins

With luscious molten chocolate hidden inside intensely rich exteriors, set atop plates of coffee cream, these individual cakes are da Fioreís most sensual desserts. Mara Martin tested this recipe for two years, tweaking and improving until she finally achieved the perfect consistency both inside and out. Use the best chocolate you can find: da Fiore uses Callebaut, but Valhrona, Scharffen Berger or Ghirardelli work very well. The chocolate must contain at least 75 percent cacao (it will say so on the package) or the recipe wonít work.

This recipe is a hostís dream. Itís a cinch to prepareóyou can make the cake batter and fill the ramekins a day or two in advance and keep them covered in your refrigerator. Since the inside chocolate must be soft and at room temperature before being placed in the oven, take the ramekins out of the refrigerator at least an hour before cooking.

6 tbsp unsalted butter, plus more to butter moulds
1.5 tbsp all-purpose flour, plus
2 tbsp to dust moulds
5 oz good-quality chocolate, broken into small chunks
2 tbsp rum
3 large eggs, separated
1/4 cup sugar
Confectionerís sugar for dusting
1/2 recipe Coffee Cream (see below)
6 fresh raspberries

Lightly coat six 4-ounce ramekins or soufflÈ moulds with butter. Dust with 2 tbsp flour, rolling the ramekins to evenly coat; lightly tap out any excess. Set aside.

Fill the bottom of a double boiler with water to a depth just below, but not touching, the top insert. Bring water to a boil. Place chocolate, rum and the remaining butter in the top of the double boiler and insert over the gently boiling water. Cook, stirring often, until chocolate is completely melted. Remove from heat and let cool almost to room temperature.

Preheat the oven to 400∫F. Using a hand blender, beat egg whites on high speed until they hold stiff peaks. Reduce speed to low and add the sugar, egg yolks and remaining 1Ω tbsp flour; mix just until fully incorporated. Remove the bowl from the standing mixer, if using, and, with a rubber spatula, fold in the chocolate mixture. Divide chocolate among the prepared ramekins, filling each three-quarters full. Bake for 8ñ10 minutes or until a slight crack appears in the top of each cake. Gently turn each ramekin upside down over a serving plate to invert the cake. Serve dusted with confectionerís sugar and a small pool of coffee cream. Garnish with a fresh raspberry if using.

Coffee Cream Recipe
Makes about 4 cups

2 cups espresso or brewed coffee
2 cups milk
8 large egg yolks
1 cup sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
4 tbsp all-purpose flour

Combine espresso and milk in a small saucepan and place over medium heat. When steam rises from the mixture, remove pan from heat. Set aside.

In a small bowl, beat egg yolks, sugar and vanilla. Add the flour; stir to combine. Beat in a few tablespoons of the hot milk and espresso mixture, then gradually stir mixture into the saucepan. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring almost constantly, until the mixture thickens. The cream should coat the back of a spoon and hold the outline of your finger after you pass it through. Strain the custard into a bowl. Place in an ice bath to cool quickly then cover and refrigerate. Use within 2 days.

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