The article below from NYTimes.com

Fast Food, the Venetian Way

May 23, 2004

 By DANA BOWEN

WE landed in Venice with hearty appetites last summer, and

knew exactly where we weren't going to eat. Camera-clickers

bounced around tables in the Piazza San Marco like unwieldy

bumper cars, and from restaurant terraces overlooking

canals, diners suffered the gondoliers' ear-splitting

serenades to floating fleets of package-tour grandes dames.

La Serenissima it most definitely was not.

No matter. Even in high season, when Venice is about as

serene as Disneyland during spring break, we knew we could

eat well and spend little. My husband, Lindsay, and I had

caught a first glimpse of an oft-neglected side of the city

three years ago, and during recent visits, it had gradually

come into focus - a secret Venice, full of local

specialties and casual meals most visitors miss, with no

hidden charges, no dumbed-down tourist menu and no fish on

Mondays when the Rialto market's pescheria (the source of

fresh fish) is closed. It is Venice enjoyed by Venetians,

that dwindling group of about 65,000 who still call the old

city their home, and it revolves around - of all things -

Venice's signature snacks.

This is the only city in the world that lays claim to

cicheti, the bite-sized brethren of tapas, and ombre, the

traditionally tiny glasses that hold about a gulpful of

local wine. Venice's uniquely pedestrian nature gave rise

to these miniature, impromptu meals, which residents toss

back in number each day without getting either tipsy or

full. More than a slice of grilled polenta with a swig of

house Soave, cicheti e ombre is a down-to-earth mode of

eating and drinking that has been at the center of the

city's social life for centuries.

But like many local traditions, this one ran the risk of

disappearing over the past few decades, when many of

Venice's venerable cichettere, or casual places to eat,

started serving more mainstream, tourist-friendly fare.

On recent visits, however, we sensed a social snacking

revival under way in the residential neighborhoods, so we

high-tailed it out of Piazza San Marco and took to the

streets in Cannaregio, Castello and San Polo. We found that

wine-bar and osteria owners are reclaiming their cicheti

roots with more style and culinary sophistication than

ever, and as a result, Venetians are repopularizing the

fabled giro di ombre, a late-afternoon, early-evening ombre

crawl.

"It's like Clinton Street," Lindsay joked, referring to the

trendy restaurant row on the Lower East Side of New York,

"with gondolas."

Without a doubt, it is the stylish way to eat in Venice

these days. We had lots of local company as we noshed,

venturing from one bustling bar to the next, forgoing

sit-down meals in favor of stand-up snacks. Each

cichetteria on the circuit has its own personality: some

are famous for grilled or boiled fish from the lagoon,

others for fried foods, and still others for their classic

décor. Together, they are saving a side of the city that is

well worth knowing.

Ai Promessi Sposi

Venetian wine bars - bacari - are named for the god of wine

and other indulgences. Walk into this cheery sliver of a

spot in Cannaregio, and you'd swear Bacchus himself had

possessed the local clientele, a scruffy band of operatic

older men whose drunken arias kept us awake one night three

years ago. We were staying at Bernardi-Semenzato, a small

hotel tucked behind Strada Nuova, across the street from

one of the city's oldest cichetteria. We would have brushed

the singalong off as an isolated incident had we not been

jolted awake by more sprightly songs the next morning.

The owner of the hotel, a sweet English teacher named Maria

Teresa Biasin, seemed unruffled by our complaint. Hadn't we

ever been to a cichetteria?

When we returned later, she led us across the street,

introduced us to the crooners and proceeded to describe

each platter of cicheti lined up on the long counter -

that's sarde in sour, fried and marinated sardines, an old

Venetian recipe that was once food for the poor. Now

everyone eats it. There's polpette, the famous deep-fried

meatballs. Those are grilled castruare, baby artichokes

from San Erasmo in the lagoon. And see how the polenta is

white - that's the kind we eat here in Venice. It was a

delicious education. The bartender scooped small servings

onto little plates, poured three miniglasses of bubbly

Prosecco, and the three of us snacked and sipped standing

up.

Friendships forged over cicheti and ombre die hard. When we

returned to Venice this time, we stayed again at

Bernardi-Semenzato and started our giro di ombre across the

street at Ai Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed). The yellowing

walls, 50's furniture and classic, abundantly fried cicheti

- one of the city's lengthiest and least expensive spreads

at about a euro each - hadn't changed, but the crowd

definitely had. Briefcase-toting businessmen tossed back an

ombre on the run, university kids hung out in the leafy

garden, and there wasn't an opera singer in sight.

Cantina do Mori

Next stop: 1462, the year this bacaro

opened and when, give or take a few decades, cicheti were

born, down around the nearby Rialto market. The merchants

of Venice still stop into this dark, tableless space for a

quick bite between sales. Heavily canopied with copper

water pails (which were once used with the stone wells that

still sit in most squares), Do Mori looks and feels like a

nostalgia trip.

It's a good place to ponder the origins of it all, so I

engage the gap-smiled barman, Sergio. The word cicheti is

Venetian dialect, and many believe that it stems from the

Provençal word for "to chew."

You can't help but wonder when you order Cantina do Mori's

baccalà mantecato - a creamy mash of rehydrated cod

slathered over grilled polenta squares - whether this and

the other worldly-looking snacks, laced with ginger and

saffron and exotics rarely found in Italian cuisine, are

directly related to the diminutive dishes of Spain, Greece

and the Middle East. The Rialto, after all, was the one of

the world's early culinary crossroads.

"When the bacari first started serving cicheti, it was all

anchovies, because they lasted a long time," said Sergio.

"Then someone put an anchovy on top of an egg, and after a

while, everyone started doing their own thing."

Indeed, the cicheti at Cantina do Mori are more creative

than they used to be - fried olives, baby artichokes in a

pool of olive oil, bits of sausage and pecorino on

toothpicks. Their ombre are, too - I sipped a local Soave

for under $2.50, but big spenders can try Tignanello,

Antinori's Super Tuscan red, for a whopping $16.

Ombre, Sergio said, are named for the Campanile's shadow,

which merchants of the long-gone market in Piazza San Marco

would follow to keep their wine cool. Shoppers would slip

into the shade to sip a glass of wine and gossip, so

eventually, to go into the ombra meant grabbing a quick

glass of wine with friends. That may explain why he calls

all his barflies, myself included, "carissimo amico mio" -

"my dearest pal."

La Cantina

Follow the crowds on your giro di ombre and they will

eventually lead you to this cozy, seven-year-old bacaro

along Cannaregio's main drag. Couples cluster around wine

barrel tables, but cicheti cognoscenti and wine drinkers

hang out at the old wooden bar, where they can watch

Francesco Zorzetto, co-owner, at work.

"We don't follow tradition exactly," he said, griddling

eggplant slices on a tricked-out panini press, and then

reaching into his fridge. He's a young guy with a

perfectionist's drive to compose the ideal cheese plate,

and he's about as cool as it gets in cicheti circles.

Unwrapping a hunk of pecorino from its plastic, he

continued, "Cichettare means to eat informally with

friends, and many prefer to eat like this."

"Like this" means fine slivers of air-dried lamb loin and

speck, a smoky cured ham, fanned out on a wooden board.

There are savory biscotti, ciabatta and crispy polenta to

go along with the likes of Toma di Piemonte, fresh caprino

goat cheese, and Sardinian blue, each paired with its own

spicy-sweet mostarda or honey. All bite-sized, all

beautiful. We are in heaven.

These piquant little snacks couldn't suit La Cantina's

150-bottle wine list any better - the 40 poured by the

glass offer rare surprises, like the floral Sylvaner from

Sud Tirol, and a rich and chewy 100 percent Garganega

Veneto white. These oversized goblets are a sophisticated

substitute for the short, chubby ombre glasses, but the

convivial spirit of small samplings remains the same.

Banco Giro

"It's hard to say why, but cicheti has

definitely been changing," says Andrea Varisco, chef-owner

of one of Venice's hottest new spots. Three years ago, he

lovingly restored this historic two-story building, which

sits just east of the Rialto Bridge on the bank of the

Grand Canal in San Polo, and offers a stunning view.

"People are returning to the tradition of cicheti, but

they're updating recipes and rediscovering old ingredients

in new ways," he said, explaining that he often prepares

cicheti with Slow Food's presidia, using ingredients

selected by the international food-politics organization as

endangered foods or traditions. The polenta, the cheeses

and most of the cured meats he uses come from small

producers who make food the old-fashioned way.

Downstairs at the bar, upstairs under the low stone arches,

and out on the breezy patio, a crowd nibbles on inventive

cicheti like tune roe crostini and stuffed sardines. On a

hot day everyone's sipping spritz - Venice's classic

cocktail, made with white wine, Campari and soda.

Alla Vedova

With all these new riffs on the city's

traditional snacks, I wasn't surprised to learn that

cicheti isn't standing room only anymore.

At the candlelit Alla Vedova (also called Ca d'Oro) in

Cannaregio - one of the city's oldest osterias that acts

like the newest kid on the block - hipster waiters bring

cicheti misti plates heaped with little bits of everything

to the table: grilled canoce (the lagoon's silvery

langoustines), fried sardines and marinated vegetables make

a satisfying meal.

Mascaron

Mascaron and its neighboring wine bar, Mascareta, in

Castello, are good places to sample seasonal Venetian

seafood cicheti sitting down: The sogliolette in saor

(small, flat sole marinated with onions, vinegar, ginger,

raisins and pine nuts) and tiny sweet gamberetti shrimp are

cherished Venetian treats.

Restaurant Information

Classic cicheti, which are usually presented on platters in

casual restaurants and wine bars, run anywhere from $1 to

$2.40 a serving, at $1.21 to the euro; seafood is the most

expensive. Ombre can cost as little as 60 cents for a local

variety like refosco or prosecco, but most cost $1.80 to

$3.65. Tell the chef how much you want to spend on a cheese

and cured meats plate ($16 is average), and it will be

sized accordingly.

Smoking is permitted at Ai Promessi Sposi and Alla Vedova.

Cash only.

Ai Promessi Sposi, 4367 Calle dell'Oca, Cannaregio;

(39-041) 522 8609. Open 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Closed on

Wednesday and in August.

Cantina do Mori, 429 Calle dei do Mori, San Polo; (39-041)

522 5401. Open 8:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m. Closed Sunday.

La Cantina, 3689 Strada Nuova, Cannaregio; (39-041) 522

8258. Open 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Closed Sunday.

Banco Giro, 122 Campo San Giacometto, San Polo; (39-041)

523 2061. In summer, open 10:30 a.m. to midnight. Closed

Sunday night, all day Monday.

Alla Vedova (also Ca d'Oro), 3912-3952 Ramo Ca' d'Oro,

Cannaregio; (39-041) 528 5324. Open 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. and 6

to 10:30 p.m. Closed Thursday and Sunday morning.

Mascaron, 5525 Calle Lunga Santa Maria Formosa, Castello;

(39-041) 522 5995. Open noon to 3 p.m. and 6 to 11 p.m.

Closed Sunday.

DANA BOWEN is a food and travel writer based in New York.

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/23/travel/23cicheti.html?ex=1086584064&ei=1&en=e3858b156b00685d