Last fall I had the pleasure of eating and staying at Da Vittorio. It’s been owned and run by the Cerea family members since the 1960s. Their generous spirit pervades every aspect of the place.
We took the train from Venice, about a three hour trip, to have dinner there. We spent the night at their hotel, which even apart from the food was delightful.
I told Rossella Cerea, who runs the dining room, that we planned to have their carte blanche tasting menu. “Oh good, I’m so glad,” she said. “We’ll be sure to include some brand-new dishes that we’re really excited about.”
We spent a couple of hours before dinner walking around the beautiful property. In their own small vineyard there’s even a heliport, overlooking the valley below. I suppose it’s mainly for people from Milan who want to hop in for a meal.
The dining room is bright and airy, spacious and welcoming. They manage to incorporate a genuine spirit of fun into the formality of the room.
There’s no hard line between amuse bouche and first courses. The meal begins with a few treats that are indeed amusing.
The “101 Parmesan cheese stone” with an eyedropper of aged shoyu was delicious. Okay, let’s forget the word “delicious.” It belongs with every single course, so it’s superfluous.
The Bergamasca olive was so tasty it coaxed me to drink its oil from the martini glass. It would have been a shame not to: it’s the quintessence of olive oil.
Next was shiso in tempura, its modest name belying the complexity of the dish. Caviar sat amid an arrangement of flowers atop a delicate tempura shiso leaf.
With these first dishes, they served an Aka-shi Honjozo Sake, light and fragrant, surprising but perfect.
Three creative foie gras dishes were interspersed throughout the meal. I’ll group them together here:
The foie gras candle, which they actually lit, was an ethereally smooth pate encased in a tasty coating made to mimic wax. I neglected to find out what the coating was made of, but it gave a nice textural contrast to the softness of its foie gras filling.
Foie gras dice were just a differently shaped preparation of the same ingredients, with caviar eggs to make the dots on the die. I certainly didn’t feel like complaining!
A foie gras cherry was filled with a meatier foie gras encased in a sour cherry covering. Both the casing and the filling were masterful.
Amberjack tacos were filled with a delightfully creamy fish puree.
A pouring of Baron de L Ladoucette Pouilly-Fume, exceptionally aromatic, announced a changing of mood to somewhat weightier dishes.
Leche de tigre, a peppery citrus based Peruvian sauce traditionally used to marinate ceviche, was whipped into a custard to accompany cod sashimi, a surprising combination that worked excellently.
Next came a “pizza of tuna belly.” To me, it seemed more intended to amuse than to delight the sense of taste, but it was nevertheless enjoyable. It was accompanied by yet another foie gras preparation that I enjoyed more than the “pizza” itself.
The candied eggplant was another modestly titled dish. By this point, I was too overwhelmed by the succession of surprising dishes to inquire how it was made, but I loved it.
The next wine announced: now we’re getting serious. The Marchesi Frescobaldi Gorgona 2020 is made by inmates on a remote Tuscan archepelago island prison. The sommelier took sincere interest to explain it to us. The Gorgona Project is a collaboration between Frescobaldi and Gorgona, the only island prison in Europe. Here, inmates spend the last period of their sentences, working in contact with nature to develop skills that facilitate their reintegration into society.
King crab with zucchini Trombetta was another brilliant composition. The exquisitely prepared zucchini slices lay on top of a king crab piece in a tempura-like coating.
A Caravaglio Nzemi, another wine from a remote island, comes from the Aeolian islands off Sicily. It continued the progression into more serious dishes.
Roberto Cerea’s Uovo all’uovo is one of Da Vittorio’s enduring classics. They describe it thus:
In coppa Martini si alternano strati di composta di mele Golden, uovo strapazzato, uova di quaglia poché, uova di salmone, spuma di patate e caviale Beluga. Una sinfonia di sapori al cucchiaio.
So it’s layers of golden apple compote, scrambled egg, poached quail egg, salmon egg, potato foam and caviar.
It’s the only egg dish I know that rivals Passard’s Arpege egg. This one dish alone would be worth a trip to Brusaporto.
They served it with a glass of Louis Roederer Champagne.
If the meal had ended there, I would not have felt deprived. But a glass of Brunello di Montalchino, Le Ppttazzine, 2019, announced oh no, not at all: we’re just getting started.
They brought next a beautiful dish of potato dumplings with sea strawberry. In my nearly comatose state by this time, it didn’t stick in memory enough to say anything meaningful about it.
It was at this point that the servers draped us in bibs embroidered, ominously, with the phrase oggi sono goloso. Today I’m greedy.
Rossella Cerea came out, charmingly wearing a denim jacket in contrast to the formal costumes of the servers, to assist in the preparation of the paccheri. By far the simplest dish on the menu, it’s one that they’re especially proud of. It’s been a signature dish ever since Vittorio Cerea opened the restaurant in its first location the 1960s.
I was well aware that after pasta come the secondi. How would I manage? I didn’t know, but I hoped I’d be up for the challenge. This picture shows my attempt at finishing the absolutely delicious paccheri.
The secondi, if I may call them that, proved irresistible. Ray wing with apricot “declination” was sublime.
The pigeon with lemon and pistachio was among the best pigeon dishes I’ve had, each of its tender and flavorful components cooked perfectly and complemented by thoughtfully chosen sauces. It was accompanied by a lovely Zidarich Ruje 2017, a wine I didn’t know but was happy to meet.
Rossella kindly gave us a tour of the kitchen at this point, perhaps sensing that I’d fall all the way into a coma if they attempted to give us dessert. It was a welcome chance to get up, but more than that, to experience the joyful personalities of the Cerea family members and others in the kitchen staff.
We returned to the table and were greeted by the cheese cart, a heartbreaking encounter. The dozen or so cheeses were each world-best varieties at the peak of ripeness, and I had no room for any. Yet another reason to return soon.
When it comes to dessert after a huge meal, even though I couldn’t force myself to have another savory bite, I manage to find room. It’s as though we, like ruminant mammals, have several stomachs, but one of them reserved for sweets.
The first dessert was a spectacularly well-made ice cream inside a chocolate shell, sitting on a wonderful crumble of chocolate cake, and topped with a melty butterscotch sauce and a pineapple compote.
The next was an ice cream sandwich, designed to waken the inner child of even the most jaded diner. Along with it they brought a glass of a very old vin santo.
That inner child, now awake, cannot help but delight in the veritable three-ring circus of petit fours.
Our principal server presented the ferris wheel of mignardises. Yes, a ferris wheel:
Meanwhile a pastry chef hand-stuffed little cannoli with cream fillings while an adorable model carousel spun around.
Would you care for some candy, they asked? In case our auxiliary stomachs had room for more sweets, they wheeled the candy cart to the table. Astonishing.
We passed on the candy, but Jenna asked if she could have a cup of mint tea. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” said the server. A remarkably short time later, two others brought to the table what looked like an entire plant of peppermint just picked from their garden, a hand-blown sand timer to time its steeping, two varieties of home-made rock candy sugar and the prettiest cup and saucer imaginable.
The hourglass did its job, they poured the tea and sliced a bit of peel from a fresh buddha hand citrus into the cup to enhance the mint.
In the morning we were by no means ready for breakfast, but we nevertheless made our way down to the breakfast room.
“Just a croissant and an espresso,” I asked. “Certainly sir, but do you like eggs benedict? Honestly, you should not miss these.” I weakened and indicated with a shrug that I might not refuse them if brought.
The server was right. Among eggs benedict, these were exceptional. The obviously just-baked brioche base was vastly better than the usual English muffin. Instead of Canadian bacon, there was a slice of acorn-fed Spanish ham. The eggs were, needless to say, perfectly poached. Even more than these things, what made these benedicts stand far above others was the quality of the bearnaise: voluminous yet exquisitely light, enhanced by exceptionally flavorful tarragon.
After that I had to get up and see what else was offered at the buffet. An entire honeycomb from their own apiary provided honey for the beautiful display of croissants, brioches, and breads of all kinds.
A slicer with what was likely the bellota ham that had graced my eggs benedict caught my eye. “Oh sir, you must try this. It is the absolute top quality jamon iberico bellota.” “Well, maybe just a slice to taste.” “Certainly sir, and please have a look at our other charcuterie. Each one is as special as the jamon.”
“Do not worry, I’ll make you just a tiny plate,” she said.
She did not exaggerate. Each slice was exceptional. There were of course many other breakfast items. But my point is not to illustrate the full breakfast menu, but to say that this is exemplary of the generous spirit that fills the entire institution of Da Vittorio. We looked out the breakfast window at the vineyard and herb garden and wondered how soon we’d return. And how often.
