Milan, 2024

TIMELESS TABLES IN MILAN

Why we always end up at places that withstand the test of time.

We love Milan. It's one of our favorite cities in the world. Our love affair started about two decades ago.

But, oh my God, did we hate the city before that.

Nothing is less memorable than arriving in Milan on a cold, rainy day. If you arrive by car, as we often do, you'll invariably find yourself navigating the claustrophobic exits of the ringroad with double or triple height rusted steel vanguards that flank a single lane winding its way towards the city center like a drunk Lombardian dairy farmer.

Some parts of the city center even look like they have been designed by the same farmer.

Milan has an expert way of putting you off.

But it's just a ruse. The city plays hard to get. Only suitors with an obstinate mind that borders on masochism are rewarded with her consideration. But once you get her esteem, it is unconditional and forever.

Valentino Montenapoleone

Because Milan is not a city; it's a behavior. It's how you elegantly shape your urban life around work, fashion, beauty, friends, food, and art.

We've been ardent suitors, paying her our respects twice a year, at least, since our love affair flourished. Nearly all of these rendezvous drew us towards the same places. Centennial bars, cafés, and restaurants.

We never get bored of them. They are good. They are authentic. They have character.

And, like the city itself, they play hard to get.

Teatro alla Scala - Porselli Dance Store

A SANTA LUCIA

It must have been in the late 80s. The restaurant was packed. We got a thorough once-over by the maître d', who, after some consideration, decided we were worthy of a table in the first part of the restaurant, near the doors. It was obvious that the main dining room, behind the wood-paneled partition, was for the regulars, not us.

She was tall, dark-haired, elegant, and dressed in a long, flowing camel coat. She walked in as if she owned the place, talking all the time. The maître d' spontaneously stepped out of her way. In her left hand, she held a telephone, thick as a brick. Her right hand was gesticulating fiercely, punctuating her arguments. We were speechless: it was the first mobile phone we had seen in use. With her entrance, the age of technology strutted through the door in full splendor.

We always eat once at A Santa Lucia. A centennial restaurant wallpapered with 400 or more framed and dedicated photographs of celebrities that dined here. The waiters still wear ties and white coats. They speak just the right amount of English to flaunt their Italian flair and to utterly confuse tourists.

You eat well when you order what your waiter recommends. But isn't that exactly what waiters are for?

We still haven't made it to the main dining room behind the partition. And that is very reassuring.

Fondazione Prada

COVA

There are three types of clients at Cova.

First, you've got the newbies. They have read about Cova on social media, or they have visited one of their locations in China, Hong Kong, or the Middle East. They want to see what the real deal looks like. They come in hesitantly and wander over to inspect the pastry counter before they timidly ask for a table.

You don't sit down at Cova. You have something standing at the bar.

Second are the regulars. They come in, immediately recognize a party at the bar, and hug everyone around. They are well-dressed lawyers and businessmen in tailor-made shoes with double straps and a jacket that they straighten every so often with a gesture that suggests a lifetime of practice. They come directly from the office for an 1817, happy to stand, as they've been sitting in meetings all day. They politely decline free spumante top-ups but grin like kids with a new toy when they put the glass—full again—to their lips.

These are the people you look at with envy.

Finally, there's the momentary, like us, the ones who come to Milan regularly and don't want to miss out on their customary aperitivo, feet sore from too much walking but stubbornly insisting to stand at the bar, rubbing shoulders with the true regulars, and always somehow getting drawn into their discussions.

Your feet will kill you for the rest of the evening, but the negroni, its aperitivo snacks, and the atmosphere are worth it.

Paper Moon Giardino - Rimowa - Fondazione Prada

MARCHESI 1824

There's something that I don't get about coffee.

It's the price. How come cappuccinos in Italy cost as little as $2.00 and up to $8.00 in the USA? It's not like either of those countries grows coffee. Coffee to Italians is what gasoline is to Americans: it keeps them going.

So you keep it cheap. Too bad for the Americans; they can't drink gasoline.

Marchesi is our breakfast spot. We stand at the bar and look at the perfectly orchestrated activities of making and serving flawless coffees at breakneck speed. Between 09:30 and 10:00 AM, the place is bustling with people enjoying a cappuccino and a snack before starting their workday.

The service is quick and friendly; the staff wears Prada and addresses their regulars by name; the thick ceramic cups are warm; the coffee machine shines so bright you need shades; there is literally nothing out of order behind the bar; humor is the remedy for things that go amiss in the rush.

The coffees are perfect, and the viennoiseries are freshly made in the stores. The people are beautiful. Nobless oblige; Prada owns Marchesi.

Ralph's, what about this as a challenge?

Marchesi 1824

ANTICA TRATTORIA DELLA PESA

Lombardia, with Milan as its capital, is the economic center of Italy. But it never lost its connection to agriculture. The Po Valley is extremely fertile. It shows on the menus of the city's better restaurants.

Della Pesa is one of the oldest restaurants in Milan. Opposite the Microsoft offices near Porta Garibaldi and a short walk to hip Corso Como, its clientele isn't stuffy, however. Neither is the food. Traditional Milan recipes are prepared to perfection and served with a variety of Italian wines that entice you to come back for more.

The risottos are amazing. So is the Cotoletta alla milanese. But this is also the place for true meat lovers; I'm referring to the ones who eat nose to tail. I never seem to get past the rognoncino trifolato, sautéed veal kidneys with truffle. Get a good bottle of sangiovese to go with it: a Brunello if you want to splurge, a Vino Nobile di Montepulciano if you are feeling rather reasonable.

Il Salumaio di Montenapoleone - Cova - Marchesi 1824

PAPER MOON

They looked eerily similar in their white aprons. As if the restaurant had set a physical standard for hiring their staff: tanned, dark hair slightly receding, a stubble, and a contagiously friendly face. You can't help but smile back at them. We asked if they were brothers. Only in spirit, they replied, beaming.

You can hardly wish for a better welcome at any restaurant.

The baby of the lot, Paper Moon has been a hangout for fashion people since its opening in 1977. In a cozy and elegant setting, you were having lunch among the elite of international fashion: models, designers, and executives. Even over a pizza, Italy's staple for a fast lunch, you forgot the time and always hung around for longer than you planned.

Marchesi 1824

Across the road, Paper Moon has opened its second restaurant, Paper Moon Giordano, in an opulent palazzo with a large garden and a menu focused on updated seasonal classics.

Italians eat indoors. Tourists are on the terraces. But this is different; even the Italians want a table in this extremely private garden setting. 

Corso Como 10 - Pupi Solari

Don't visit these places for a meal or a drink. Go there for a dive into the heart of the city itself.

Go there to experience the behavior that is called Milan.

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