Italians Know How to Cook! Dining Well in Como

MENAGGIO & COMO, ITALY -- May 14, 2006

I wasn't going to attempt to top yesterday, or even match it. Some days just blow other ones out of the water. Yesterday was one of those days.I had heard about a fantastic and challenging four-hour trek to nearby Monte Grona, through alpine territory to lookouts with astonishingly beautiful views of Lago di Como and its village. I wanted to make the trek today. But stormy skies warned that rain might be looming, and I felt it best to stay closer to the ground, instead of taking my chances on mountain paths all by myself.
Taking a morning ferry across the lake, I was greeted by one of the crewmen from yesterday. Back in the captain's circle, I was introduced to a new crew, including one ruggedly handsome thirty-something officer named Marco. The lot of them invited me to lunch during their afternoon break in Varenna. Why not, I said to myself. A little spontaniety and some very interesting company -- and rain threatening to wash our my hiking plans... so I said yes.

With a few hours until our lunch date, I decided to take a leisurely stroll along the lake, and watch with mixed feelings as the clouds dissipated and the sun came out again. I could have taken that hike today! Seven kilometers later, I was back at the port, as the Lario pulled up to the dock. Hopping aboard, I was greeted by Luigi, who showed me to a bathtub-sized kitchen tucked away on the lower level of the vessel. I had imagined, up to this point, that we would be dining at a lakeside ristorante. Suddenly, I realized that Luigi had prepared the meal himself, and it smelled divine!

Thinking back to this morning, I had seen Marco dart into the corner market, the same one where I had the unfortunate spill the morning before. It hadn't occurred to me at the time, but now I realized that he had gone to purchase ingredients for today's lunch! Luigi lifted the lid from a shiny silver pot simmering on the stove, and I could smell the delicious aroma of tomatoes, garlic, and fresh herbs.

The chef raised a spoon to my mouth for my approving nod, and my taste buds did backflips as I tasted the thick pomodoro sauce. Two minutes later, the ferry began chugging across the lake to Varenna, where it would dump its final load of passengers before lunch officially began. A second crewman joined us in the kitchen, and poured the remaining quarter of a previously opened bottle of white wine into three stout cups for a makeshift aperitivo. As we toasted, they raised a finger to their mouths and, with devilish grins, pointed to the floor above, where the captain was sitting on deck. The message was clear, 'Don't tell the boss!' Oh, only in Italy!

As the passengers shuffled off the Larios, the two crewman and I axcended to the top floor, where tables and chairs in the central chamber had been set for lunch.Marco steered the boat to the middle of the lake, and lunch was underway. Primo piatti (first course, or literally, first plate) was pasta al dente with the pomodoro sauce, followed by segundi piatti (second course) of thinkly-sliced prosciutto-like meat, doused in olive oil, and topped with thick slices of fresh tomato and garlic. We washed it all down with a vino rosso, poured from the largest bottle I've ever seen.

All too soon, the meal was over, and the Lario began chugging again back to Varenna for its next load of passengers. Minutes later, I waved farewell to my new friendsa s we returned to Menaggio. It would be impossible to think of Lago di Como again without remembering my lakeside lunch with this salty foursome.A few hours later, I met Wally again as he finished his shift, and we set off for Como again, this time chasing a rainstomr that was settling over the mountains. As Wally sped around tight corners and endless curves of the narrow, unmarked road, I suddenly realized how it is that Italians are among the world's best motocycle racers -- with tracks like these to practice!!

Saturday night and no reservations proved to be a bit challenging, but we finally managed to find a table at a restaurant filled with a local crowd. The place: La Scoglieri. Wally treated me to an expensive but unforgettable seafood dinner. Antipasti was a mix of freshly prepared calamari, scallops, and mussles. Then our server emerged with two huge plates of gamboretti griglia (grilled prawns), a plate of steamed spinach, and another of patate frite (delicious potato wedges fried in olive oil and fresh herbs).

Four pair of beady black eyes stared up at me from my dinner plate, and wielding my knife and fork, I carefully deshelled the enormous prawns, dousing them in fresh lemon juice before swallowing them down with a sweet white wine. If dinner weren't intoxicating enough, Wally insisted on dessert -- a parfait filled with tiramisu and topped with sweet cream, and a swig of the very concentrated and famously Italian limoncello. Gentle rain fell as we drove the 40 km north to Bellagio. I was beginning to wish I could turn back the hands of time and arrange to spend another week... month... forever?... in Lago di Como.

~Melanie