It’s just a couple of hours from here to Venice, where years worth of accumulated hotel points are about to be vaporised in just a couple of nights at one of those Grand Canal palace hotels, hopefully not confusing our six year old daughter as to what constitutes ‘normal travel’.
Actually, I suspect she’ll remember the old fashioned ferry boats, pedalo rides and the charming family we’ve got to know at their small hotel (the Kriss) on the Bardolino lakeshore for quite some time, as it has been a perfect short Easter break in unaccustomed warmth, (there’s months of accumulated snow on the streets of our home city of Warsaw and just last week we were ice skating on the lake near our house). It’s no exaggeration to say that all three of us have fallen head over heels with this corner of the Veneto with its alluring combination of lakes, mountains and many of northern Italy’s most fascinating towns and cities all close by.
Back in the days of la dolce vita, Bardolino and neighbouring Lazise were known as ‘La riviera veronese’ and indeed since Roman times the gentlemen and gentlewomen of Verona have enjoyed second homes and villas here. The city is just 30 minutes away, so we explore its glorious mix of Roman, Gothic and Renaissance architecture, satisfying our daughter’s new found enthusiasm for ‘castles’.
We start at the perfectly preserved arena, before marvelling at monumental medieval fresco adornments and the unusual pink brick of many of the city’s palaces, ending up in a small square tucked behind the old herb market, the severe eye of Dante looking down on us from his pedestal as we enjoy spaghetti vongole with mussels in the welcome 25 degree warmth. A performance of ‘Turandot’ early this evening back at the arena is a tempting thought, but instead I have a date on the lake with a pedalo to fulfil with our daughter!
Next morning, with Easter Sunday traffic predictably nose to tail, we take the old fashioned steamer south to Sirmione on its peninsular and miraculously find a table by the water where we linger over wafer thin parma ham and rocket pizzas and a bottle of Prosecco, as ferries and small boats crisscross the lake. Feeling far too indolent for much else we shuffle contentedly back to the dock and have just enough energy for a walk past the port in Bardolino for some more ‘castle’ action for our daughter, this time of the bouncy variety. It’s hard to believe that out there in the real world, NATO planes have been bombing the centre of Belgrade, just 500 miles south of here.
With Easter Monday equally hot and crowded we put our plan to circumnavigate the lake on hold and settle for a brief excursion to a nearby wildlife sanctuary. Time for us to get to know the delightful family that runs our hotel a little better, especially the two sons, Alessandro and Riccardo, who respectively man reception and look after the restaurant. We’re a bit of a novelty as most guests are German speaking, and in the bar before dinner, the charming brothers recommend that instead of driving the whole way round the lake tomorrow (as so much of the west coast road is tunneled through rock), we follow the eastern shoreline through the Scaglieri fortress towns up to Malcesine, crossing the lake from there by boat to the fishing village of Limone sul Garda- and what a beautiful plan this turns out to be.
The two villages, though separated by only a slim stretch of water (the lake tapers to a finger this far north) could not be more different, with Malcesine backed by the massif of Monte Baldo which is still snow covered and Limone by fertile hillsides already blooming with vegetation rarely if ever found this far north of the Mediterranean. Oleanders, palms and olive trees are everywhere, as even more miraculously are the citrus trees that gave the village its name, which are grown in the unique ‘Limonaie’ (lemon houses) that protect these delicate fruits from sub zero alpine winter temperatures and which are opened up to the elements every Spring. Fittingly, we eat both of our meals at waterside restaurants- a Mediterranean lunch in Malcesine of Seafood spaghetti with crayfish, cooked in its own juices looking across the lake to Limone, and the surprise of the trip, a deliciously rich rigatoni with taleggio for dinner with a view of Malcesine’s snow covered peaks. This is a dish that wouldn’t be out of place in an alpine meadow or at a ski resort in the Dolomites, and it was the perfect fuel for the chilly crossing back to Malcesine.
Rigatoni with Cabbage and Taleggio: Serves Four
12 oz dried gluten free or regular rigatoni pasta, cooked in lots of salted boiling water until just underdone
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 anchovy fillets
1/4 tsp chili flakes
3 cups chicken stock
2 medium Potatoes, chopped finely
1/2 small Savoy cabbage, chopped finely
1 tbsp marjoram, chopped finely
3 oz finely grated Parmesan cheese
4 oz Taleggio cheese, coarsely chopped and a few slices for the topping
Heat a large saucepan with 2 tablespoons of oil; add garlic, onion anchovies and chillies. Cook until the onions are soft and the anchovies have broken up. Add the stock, potatoes and the cabbage, cover and bring to the boil. Remove the lid and cook until the potatoes are tender and have broken up. Stir in the pasta, marjoram and the cheeses. Season to taste and transfer to an ovenproof dish. Scatter some Parmesan and lay slices of the Taleggio on top. Place under the broiler until it is bubbling and golden.
Serve with extra Parmesan for maximum gooey-ness.
As if on cue, our last morning dawns cool and as we drive to Mestre to drop off the rental car and pick up a launch to cross the lagoon, mist and fog descend to create the perfect romantic backdrop, for the serenest of arrivals.
Although I've been blessed to have seen many parts of Italy (including Verona) haven't made it to Lake Garda or Como yet. Sounds wonderful.
Thanks for sharing, and have a Happy Easter!
A redolent evocation of a beautiful part of Italy, rudely interrupted by the jolting reminder of the hatred being unleashed just a short distance away in Kosovo.