Ohhhhh, yesss.

Yes, ladies and gents, what I saw on the other side of the Baita’s* window, was worthy of a “When Harry Met Sally” moment. (I think we all know which moment I’m referring to.)

The place is packed, tiled-floor-to-wooden-rafters, with the most delectable formaggi on the planet. But my eyes and heart were riveted on two. The extra-aged Parmigiano Reggiano—be still my cuore. And the Gorgonzola, from Piemonte, which is scooped, dripping, out of its own skin with none other than a spoon. There will be no slicing for this baby.

Are you feeling what I’m feeling?

NOTES: 1. A “baita” is a typical, Alpine construction—think big chalet—made of stone and wood. In the old days, and maybe still today, cheese producers made their cheeses in them, from the milk given by the goats, sheep and cows that graze on Alpine pastures. 2. The parmigiano pictured above is a “stravecchio” (extra-aged, 30-36 months), from the high pastures of the Emilian Apennines. 3. The Gorgonozola is a Novarese Gorgonzola, which was voted the Best sweet gorgonzola of 2011 and which is among the top 14 best cheeses of Europe (“Tuttofood Cheese Award”). 4. The spoon is the “Daily Cure” spoon. Did you recognize it?

Urban pattern #2

I had so much fun creating the first Urban Pattern, that I thought I’d give it another whack. For this one, I chose as my starting point, a humble pedestrian ramp on Via Canonica, in Milan. The results are in. Strangely it ended in (1) A fish-scale kimono pattern (which you’ll see near the bottom of the post)—a minimalist curved take on the linear structure that I started with and (2) A repeated cloudburst pattern—shown here—in which the linear spokes, but not the silhouette itself, dominate. But that’s the fun of these exercises. You have no idea where you’ll end up.

So. Here’s what I saw, followed by what it became, more or less step by step. There’s also a half-fan version in my drawing folder, based on the original half-ramp rendering you see below, where the shape lies in layers like wings or feathers. Very nice, but maybe for another day:

Then I amused myself by making wallpapers out of a couple of them. Forgive me, Farrow & Ball for covering up your lovely wall colors.

Color Story #9: Edible Winter Roses

It’s been snowing today. So the sky and the general palette of the day are overwhelmed by whiteness (read: cold). And yet. And yet. When I walked into the vegetable vendor’s this morning, I was pleasantly ambushed by the persistent presence of red, pink and rose. Taking the charge, among the salads, was a radicchio rosa that I’d never seen. Befitting a Valentino runway, surely it would be as good to eat with the mouth as with the eyes. I took two small heads of it. And was pleased to discover, that it did not disappoint.

But this was just the beginning. There were several varieties of radicchio—both darker and variegated. (I passed.) There were radishes (rapanelli), red scallions (cipollotti), and rose tinged heads of garlic. And then, calling my name, was a small tub of olives, trying to be green, but wearing a veil of pink despite themselves. I grabbed a few of these items, though there were more, for the purpose of photographing them, and then I thought: what the heck, I’ll toss them together and eat them, too.

As if a gastronomic painter were at work behind the scenes, the flavors married and mingled beautifully as one might—sort of—have anticipated. The cautiously bitter nip of the rose radicchio, the audacious snap of the radish, the surprisingly sweet tang of the scallion, and the decisive punctuation of the paper-thin garlic slices mingled sociably under a drizzle of olive oil and a scattered pinch of sea salt. The olives were thrown on for appearances and to satisfy the voglia (craving) of the hungry photographer. Most likely the experiment of putting things together that visually “go together” doesn’t always work, but maybe it does. Nature is funny—and obliging—that way.

Memphis Stiletto Blues

Hopefully you know me well enough to know that the category designation “What We Wear” does not necessarily mean what I wear.  In this case definitely not. Not because I wouldn’t like to try, but because it would be suicide-by-shoe. What with the ubiquitous cobblestones and the fact that I seem to run everywhere I go these day.

Nevertheless, let us celebrate the ridiculous taken to a luscious extreme, shall we? Spotted in the vicinity of Via Moscova last week, a boutique dedicated to all things Memphis (yes, the style does persist here and there in Milan where it came into being in the 80s—brainchild of Ettore Sottsass)*, including a new line of shoes by Sergio Rossi. Eye Candy? To be sure. Foot Candy? I’m not betting on it.

•Interestingly, according to Wikipedia, the name Memphis was chosen because the first night the Memphis design collective met, they listened repeatedly to the Bob Dylan song, “Stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again.” How’s that for wacky?

[If you liked this post, you might also like "Milan Color Story #5: Tutti Frutti".]

It’s in the details

My beleaguered Harry’s ashtray says it all: when you’ve been there, you want to hold on to the experience forever. As Cipriani the Younger says, “Treat people like kings, and kings like people.” This video says so much about why we who love Italy love Italy. The country, the people, despite the many problems that define their day to day existence give and give and give of themselves…

Immortal Venice: Harry’s Bar on Nowness.com.

My thanks and credit once again to nowness.com for sharing a glimpse into something I love on the web.

Tearoom Etiquette for the four-footed set

Growing up in the United States, I was not accustomed to seeing dogs in restaurants. In Europe, as you probably know, dogs are family and allowed most places that people are. On my last trip to New York, it seemed to me that dogs there had achieved a similar status (or maybe they’ve always had it), entering restaurants, lingerie shops and bookstores. But according to the December 17th issue of the New Yorker, in the section “Briefly Noted,” and the new book What’s a Dog For? by John Homans (Penguin), dogs all over the U.S. are undergoing a humanizing process based on a shift in the “philosophical, scientific, and popular ideas about what a dog ‘is.’” Hmmm. (Shades of Bill Clinton, no? “That depends on what “is” “is” or whatever he said.) This sounds interesting.

Meanwhile, here, you can take your large or small Best Friend with you to your favorite haunts as long as he or she is behaved at least as well as you are. Yesterday, for example, at the lovely tea room, Ristorante Grand Café al Porto, in Lugano, Switzerland—tucked into our lovely nook with a hot chocolate dense enough to hold a footprint—we noticed the following printed announcement on our table:

“Our esteemed guests appreciate the elegant and refined ambience of the Ristorante Grand Café Al Porto. So that our four-footed friends may continue to frequent the “Lugano Tea Room” we invite them to observe the following rules of “Bon Ton” (Good Manners):

• I am kept on a leash
• I have class, I am well-behaved and discreet
• I am fed at home
• My place is under the table
• I make my master look good

Compliments on my impeccable behavior flatter me and I will continue to be welcome here in the future!”

And as we were leaving, we sensed a pair of well-behaved eyes following us out the door from under a table, as if to say, “You see! That is indeed the way things work here in the Tearoom!” A lovely 8 year-old Corgi who, her “padrone” informed me, was quite used to having her picture taken by strangers, although she refused to make eye-contact with my vulgar cell phone.

Lesson in advanced Chutzpah

This isn’t me yet, but as these ladies astutely point out, some day it will be. Gotta love their chutzpah: (Please click here; you won’t regret it: Advanced Style: Age and Beauty from Ari Cohen on Nowness.com.)