A Symphony of Life

I had heard of Il Gatto Nero on the island of Burano, in Venice’s north lagoon, long before I went there. I knew Jaime Oliver was a fan, but more importantly, Venetians who respected their culture and cuisine, had told me it was one of the area’s best restaurants.

Hearsay wasn’t enough though. I needed to experience it for myself. So, three years ago, on a cool, cloudy day, while auditioning Venice, I hopped a vaporetto with a friend and we made the 50-minute journey to Burano. (What’s she talkin’ about, the audition?: http://deliciousexpeditions.com/blog/2012/04/venice-the-audition/)

 

The colorful houses of Burano.

The colorful houses of Burano

 

 

When I got there, I already knew the lay of the land, the brightly painted houses and over-abundant lace stores that give a nod to the island’s lace making history. Incorrectly calculating the travel time, we arrived as the lunch shift was winding down.

In most of Italy, restaurants serve lunch for only 2 hours and then e finito—you’re out of luck. Begging does no good. Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s not about making money, making the last dollar, and that’s something to respect. Food and people come first. Food, because it’s freshly prepared, not pulled from the freezer and popped into the microwave. And people, as in their people, because they need a break after an intense few hours of running around.

 

Burano viewed from San Francesco del Deserto.

Burano viewed from San Francesco del Deserto

 

I could tell that day in Burano was going to be a begging day. With no empty table in sight, and the clock ticking, we waited beside the restaurant entrance, under an awning on a quaint canal with a few white linen-draped tables. We were hoping for someone to leave and give us, too, the opportunity to indulge.

Trying not to panic, I struck up a conversation with a handsome, well-dressed man, a tiny diamond stud in one ear, giving him an ever so light pirate vibe (as in Sir Francis Drake, not Blackbeard). As he leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette, I confessed my greatest fear to him, a perfect stranger. My fear was that I would miss lunch.

 

Il Gatto Nero Restaurant

Il Gatto Nero Restaurant

 

But a table I did get, as well as a leisurely meal, for I had unknowingly befriended the owner, or at least the son of the owner. Massimiliano Bovo is a member of an impressive family enterprise, which includes his father, Ruggero, the chef, as well as his mother, Lucia, and sister, Fiorenza, who also work in the kitchen. In between bites of light, crispy calamari mixed with delicately fried sole, washed down with generous amounts of Prosecco, I asked Massimiliano if he would consider doing a cooking class for one of my Venice culinary groups. And so it began.

Flash forward to last Sunday afternoon as we stood in Il Gatto Nero, gathered around Ruggero in his kitchen of 40+ years. Amicable and energetic, with a well-earned head of wisdom hair (the new term for grey), Ruggero introduced us to the basics of Venetian seafood—his specialty. He stressed good, fresh ingredients and simplicity, the cornerstone of all Italian cooking. But more important, he taught us lessons about life, staged like a symphony, in four moments: passion, love, family and dedication.

 

Antipasta of Scallops

Broiled Scallops

 

Ruggero’s story unfolded alongside the many courses we prepared as he unintentionally combined each part of his life with a different dish. We started with an antipasta: thin slivers of raw tuna mixed with olive oil, garlic, a dash of aged balsamic, parsley, Sicilian capers, and a squeeze of lemon. The Carpaccio’s citrusy overtones exploded in our mouths as Ruggero burst with the passion of his youth. It wasn’t for food, but for music. He longed to be a composer, to create symphonies with harmonious notes, but he needed to make a living and went to work in a restaurant instead. His dream took a back seat to practicality. But passion truly never dies. It may lay dormant, until one day, even years later, it begins to burn anew.

 

Tuna Carpaccio

Tuna Carpaccio

 

When we moved on to the Zuppetta di Crostacei, a soup loaded with clams, mussels, calamari and shrimp in a delicate tomato broth spiced with the heat of Pepperoncino, we addressed how to build flavor, and relationships. The comfort of the warm broth seemed to symbolize the next part of Ruggero’s life—Lucia, his wife of 42 years. They had married the first year Ruggero took over the trattoria where he had cooked, making it his own. Working together the entire time, he on one side of the middle-of-the-room stove, she on the other. Their relationship is a true-life partnership, a rarity, and a delight to see in this day and age.

 

The Humble Beginnings of the Zuppetta di Crostacei

The Humble Beginnings of the Zuppetta di Crostacei

 

The pasta course was about family and commitment. We placed whole prawns with an assortment of seafood, fished from the lagoon, into a large pan with olive oil, garlic and shallots. To my surprise, partially cooked spaghetti was added, along with chopped tomatoes, Parmesan and parsley. As the dish simmered, we learned about Ruggero’s children and grandchildren, the importance of having the right priorities and that family must come first.

 

Ruggero in his kitchen

Ruggero in his kitchen

 

Lucia, who had popped in and out of the kitchen all evening with playful comments about her husband, came in toward the end to make her signature fritto misto—a mixture of just-pulled-from-the-sea shrimp, calamari, fish and even scallops, fried to perfection in a surprising light batter. She showed us her secret, which I cannot divulge, but one that I will use in the future. It was the same dish I had eaten at Il Gatto Nero three years prior, one of the dishes that made me want to come back. And then I realized it wasn’t necessarily about the uber-fresh seafood, or the batter, but maybe about the love, passion and dedication. Is it possible that I tasted them in the food?? I do believe in such things.

We finished our evening with tiramisu and dessert wine, especially chosen for us by Massimiliano, the son turned sommelier and front of the house manager. His generosity and charm parallels his parent’s.

 

Fritto Misto

Fritto Misto

 

A symphony is usually heard, but can it also be tasted? It’s described in the dictionary as “a consonance of sounds,” but what about flavors? I believe Ruggero is the successful composer he always dreamt of becoming. His harmonious notes are savored and sometimes even heard via the expressions of delight coming from the dining room.

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