First just a quick neato photo, and then a quick description of the Thai pop-up dinner--held in a cool old-school building that used to be a rope factory, no less!--that we attended back in September. The pop-up dinner scene here in Zürich has become rather interesting this year, and we're doing our best to support it, as A) it's SO fun to eat interesting and delicious food that you generally can't get here; B) the fact that it's temporary seems to make it taste that much better; and C) some friends of Mike are usually involved with throwing said dinners, and they're truly delightful people, with a tremendous amount of drive and creativity, and it's a tasty, tasty honor to be able to support them in these endeavors. That having been said, because of the popularity of these dinners, it took us four tries to get in the door of this particular event (and even then, only due to the influence of Mike's friends!), but once we did, it was excellent: we started with some Thai peanuts roasted with chili, garlic, and lime (yum), and then shared plates of a green curry with pork, asparagus, and Thai eggplant; a chopped salad with pork, chili, and garlic; and then some fermented wurst with ginger and cabbage (way tastier than it sounds). All delicious, and then for dessert:
Ice cream made with the help of a little liquid nitrogen. Tasty, and quite dramatic.
Next came a trip to Knabenschiessen, the huge carnival associated with an annual teenagers' shooting competition which brings with it a half-day holiday in Zürich city, I kid you not.
It's fun to go see the absolutely massive rides that they bring in for a single long weekend, but even more fun to eat festival food (hello, garlic bread!) and cheer on Mike as he shoots at tiny targets with crazy amounts of skill and wins me things. (This year, a lime-green dolphin that I have christened "Slippy.")
In news utterly unrelated to everything I've written about here, as happens regularly in many ancient European cities, the redesign planned for Zürich's Münsterhof (from a parking lot to a pedestrian space, yay!) had to be put on hold due to archaeological finds, and so they've been excavating there for a couple of years now. While I always stop to peer into the trenches if I'm passing by, this is the first time I've seen anything there that really caught my attention.
Yup, those are bones. Human ones. (Here, to the archaeologist's left.)
My stupid, stubborn phone camera generally refuses to focus on anything, which is why these pictures are terrible, but you can still make out the bones. Here, they're above the guy's helmet, to the left of the shopvac.
Apparently, this area was used as a cemetery from the late Middle Ages through the middle of the 19th century, so who knows which era these bones are from...but even if they're relatively new, it's a bit jarring to be just walking along and then see an open pit (ok, ok, one covered with a plastic tarp, with a conveniently-positioned tear through which I was peering) with human remains. Whoa. They've also found--among heaps of other things--Roman artifacts from the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD; wooden and masonry pieces from a massive, pre-14th-century funerary chapel; wooden water pipes from the 16th through 19th centuries; and pavement and tracks from the city's first electric tram, in the 19th century. I kinda love it that Münsterhof has been in action for around 2000 years.*
In yet another unprecedented (at least, for today) non-sequitur, may I present, simply for your enjoyment, Ned in my shower.
I have no idea why, but he likes to go in there and stretch up on the walls and yowl. He's still only the second weirdest cat in my house, but he is also pretty much the best of the lot.
And now, to the main event: Milano, a city we've visited many, many times (hence the stupid, and probably even inaccurate, title of this post!), but which we've finally discovered. Let me 'splain. Milano was the first city in Italy that Mike and I visited together, and so it's always been a bit nostalgic for us. For years, we always ate at that same first restaurant and always visited the cathedral and the galleria next to it, and never really explored much beyond that, as Milano is usually a convenient single-night stop on the way to somewhere else. Well, no more, my friends. We decided to break out of our pattern this time around, and seriously, what a treat.
So. The original intent was to combine a visit to the Milano Expo with a chance to see Da Vinci's 'Last Supper,' but if you're going to do the latter, boy. Plan like 6 months in advance, 'cause it is always booked. Failing that, we decided to go check out a couple of collections of Da Vinci's drawings, some of which were on display especially for the duration of the Expo, and holy smokes, was that worth it.
But first, there was the Expo itself, which was so, so not worth it. Primarily, I wanted to go see this purpose-built and temporary city they'd built just outside the city center, and secondarily, to do some eatin', but it would have been nice to get inside a few of the pavilions. HOWEVER. Whether it was because we went on the second-to-last weekend of the Expo, or were just truly unfortunate in our timing for whatever reason, THE ABSOLUTELY MASSIVE AND TEEMING HORDES OF OTHER PEOPLE THERE ruined everything. (How dare they.)
Look...I don't generally wait in hours-long lines for anything, and believe you me, I love me some Six Flags roller coasters. As there certainly weren't any of those at the Expo, I felt that the insane lines were particularly unnecessary and entirely not worth our time. And I think Mike was on the same page.
For example. Here's the stunning Malaysian pavilion, one of the few I was actually interested in seeing the inside of--for crying out loud, they built a miniature rain forest in there!--but the line was so long...
...that it wrapped around the entire building. The entire building.
Nothing anywhere was moving quickly, but at least the German pavilion graciously provided a sign announcing that your wait from point X was 2.5 hours. Um...ARE YOU JOKING?? There were some lines so long that you actually couldn't tell where they ended, and that is not an exaggeration. We walked past one line for a good 5 minutes, only to realize that it ended at a kiosk selling Belgian French fries. I'm not even sure people at the back of that line knew what they were queueing for. Thus ended my dream of doing a little snacking-on-exotic-foods at the Expo; there were a few food cart places that weren't entirely swamped, but the crush of people everywhere was just so ridiculous that we gave up on that pretty quickly in favor of having real food elsewhere.
But at least the buildings were interesting. And no, we didn't go into a single one.
They really did build a city here, though. The scale of the Expo was genuinely impressive.
Blocks and blocks (...pun intended, I suppose...) of mirrored buildings in one of the themed "clusters." People, that line you see right there is for the Basmati Pavilion. Not Germany, or Malaysia, or Korea, or Japan, which were supposed to have fantastical rain forests and interactive interiors featuring lasers and innovative lighting and thought-provoking themes...but rice. And while I fully understand that rice is a major and important food staple for vast swaths of the world, I'm also pretty sure I can learn everything I need to know about it in 10 minutes on the Interwebs. So, NO. THANK. YOU. I will not be waiting in line for actual hours to visit the rice pavilion.
Ahem. Moving forward. The Vietnam pavilion's "forest" was quite pretty and elegant, I thought.
Some sort of noisy giant Muppet-looking parade trying to weave its way up the main walkway. Good luck, Muppets. There's no extra room here for you, or for anybody.
Ohhhh, the Vanke Pavilion. I'd seen photos of a giant sparkly red thing and thought, "I'ma see that, for sure."
Thankfully, we hung in there until we found it, 'cause wow. It was designed by Daniel Libeskind, who also did the Denver Art Museum, which still gets mixed reviews. I, however, happen to think the DAM is a fantastic piece of modern architecture.
But anyway. The Vanke Pavilion was supposed to look like a sleeping dragon, which it totally did. (Oh, hi there, swarming masses.)
Ecuador's pavilion, with a gazillion little patterned anodyzed chains that looked like a huge beaded curtain.
USA! USA! The plant wall was pretty nifty, as was the one on Israel's pavilion.
Inverted mirror on the Russian pavilion.
The Sultanate of Oman's pavilion, which was HUGE and reminded me of something you'd see at a waterpark. I kept expecting to see a waterslide running through it.
Once we'd made a bitter and disappointed command decision to escape the Expo insanity, we headed straight for Eataly (as one does) to find some lunch and pick up a book** I'd been eyeing for a while. It's true, the Eataly in Torino is the the original, but the one in Milano is huge and fantastic, and--better yet--their lunch counters stay open past 2:00 in the afternoon.
It's three stories, people. Yesssssssss. We shared a basket of outrageously crispy calamari; Mike had a fantastic herbed risotto; and I had a warm bean salad with roasted tomatoes and olive oil (ooh, healthy and delicious!).
After lunch, we meandered back to our hotel...
...past this Napoleonic gate...
...through this grocery store, and look at their fresh pasta section...
...and past this car park, heh...
...and then cleaned up a little before dinner, after trying out a little experiment to see how little money we could spend for six bottles of wine.*** The night before we'd eaten at Dry, a rather trendy pizza-and-cocktails place, where the cocktails were decent, but they were also serving up the best pizza crust I've ever had. (Don't be confused: best overall pizza ever was at the Cheese event in Bra, but the best stand-alone crust was at Dry.) Night two, however, was a 180-degree turn: we went to a homey, old-school osteria called Tagiura, and oh. my. goodness. I will eat there every single time we return to Milano for the remainder of my life. Mike started with a tremendous bean soup with some pretty fancy and awesome olive oil, and I went for eggplant baked with ricotta, tomato sauce, and Parmigiano. Next up for Mike was an eggplant Parmigiana of sorts, with a slice of eggplant topped with a thick slab of mozzarella, a slice of tomato, and some prosciutto crudo, with a little piece of savory fried dough and salad on the side; and I got to have a bowl of the most glorious little meat-filled tortellini in a perfect broth, which had some lemon zest and a bit of Grana Padano in it. (Extra bonus for the tortellini eater: for serving said tortellini, a very kind grandma-type lady came out from the kitchen toting the giant stew pot full of broth and pasta served it up herself at our table, and then threw in a little extra lemon zest and cheese. And then came back later and asked if I liked everything. SIGH. SO, SO HAPPY.) Dessert (unnecessary, at this point, but delicious!) was a wedge of flourless dark chocolate cake for me, and a "Mont Blanc" of ricotta, whipped cream, and candied chestnuts for Mike.
Best tortellini-in-brodo ever, plus Mike's gorgeous little pile of eggplant Parmigiana.
The next morning, we hopped aboard an antique streetcar...
...then grabbed coffee and pastries for brekkie around the corner from the first of our two Da Vinci destinations--the Bramante Sacristy. It's attached to the church where 'The Last Supper' is, but is essentially a stand-alone room full of Da Vinci drawings (from the Codex Atlanticus) in little glass cases. The room itself is quite beautiful--lots of stars on the ceiling, a fancy border with some pretty intricate knots around the edge, ornately painted cabinets around the walls--but the drawings are really something. The ones that I found most interesting were of flying machines, a machine gun (!), and of some technical architectural aspects of the domes in Milano and Rome. Oh yeah, and his experiments with calculating the volume of cubes before that math had been invented. Just amazing, and did I mention that he wrote all of his notes and notations backwards, in mirror image?? No photos allowed inside, of course, but there are some online. (This was the special Da Vinci exhibition intended to coincide with the Expo, and so it's good we went when we did: it's closed now!)
Naturally, though, we did duck into the church of Santa Maria delle Grazie itself, seeing a how we were already there.
The church itself was completed in 1490.
It's quite pretty, but I guess not what I was expecting on the inside. (Maybe I was thinking it'd be more austere...? I don't know.)
Lots of pretty plasterwork in there.
Really gorgeous main dome and side chapels.
Upon closer inspection, I finally figured out that all of those intricate little painted patterns are unique. That's insane.
Seeing as how we had five hours between Da Vinci visits, we decided to dash over to the Castello Sforzesco to see a museum or two that we hadn't seen since our very first trip to Italy. Which I don't even think counts, seeing as how I recall essentially nothing of that visit, as we'd arrived in country at 7:00 in the morning and were nearly dead on our feet, trying to stay awake by doing anything and everything that involved walking. (Mike actually fell asleep drinking a cup of espresso that day.) I remember seeing a lot of really old furniture, and a bunch of cats in the (dry) moat, but that's it. Perhaps time for a return, then...?
Don't kid yourself...this is a substantial castle, and it's got quite an interesting history. The oldest parts date to the late 14th century, but the rest was restored to its 15th-century form after various occupations by the Austrian Hapsburgs, the Spanish, and Napoleonic troops, and its use as a barracks during those times (the 16th through 18th centuries) left it in rather a state of disrepair. It's fairly magnificent now, though, and huge!
And filled with heaps of museums. We didn't have so much time, so we checked out the armory and the ancient art sections. Here, a chunk of 8th-9th century Lombard carving.
Fourteenth-century funerary monument of one Viscount Bernabo.
Extraordinary 5-by-3.5-meter processional banner with both embroidery and tempera paint, dating to about 1565, depicting Saint Ambrose driving heretics from the city.
Ohhhh, but this was incredible: the Sala delle Asse, or Hall of the Planks (named for the wooden planks that originally lined its lower walls), designed by none other than Da Vinci himself in about 1498. It was difficult to tell what we were seeing, at first, but then tiny and intricate details of the arboreal canopy on the ceiling started to take shape. So amazing. (Nifty article about it here.)
Marble ciborium from the 15th century. The depiction of perspective is spectacular, I think.
Mike's favorite bit: the armory! Here, 16th- to 17th-century Milanese armor in steel and bronze.
Love me some fancy sword handles! (I'm pretty sure that's due to the influence of 'The Princess Bride'...) This one's Italian-designed, from between 1630 and 1640.
Moat kittehs: still there. I'm sure this is a new batch, of course, but I do so love those moat kittehs. (The little black one in that patch of large weeds was invisible until just before I took this photo--all hiding under those leaves, and whatnot. Sneaky little guy.)
Coincidentally, during our visit to the castle, they were having some sort of strange old-cars-motorcycles-and-paramedics rally in the courtyard, so we went from artifacts from antiquity to old motorcycles. And then there was this guy, who was copying things down from some sort of transmission in Morse code. (Sure, why not?)
Haaaaaah! Sidecars!!
This guy was into it, head-to-toe. Loved his gear.
Look at his maps and case and oil can!!
Super cool old Fiat truck. With castle tower.
Next, as if we hadn't already eaten enough on this trip to survive on our reserves for a few days, we decided to go check out--sadly, for only our first time ever! I'm so ashamed!--the Navigli (canal district) and the Mercato Metropolitano, one of my new favorite places on earth.
The canal, with HUGE, gigantic, bonus Saturday flea market.
Mercato Metropolitano, this absolutely massive building full of windows dishing up specific things from each. From what I can remember, there were windows for coffee, apero, desserts, salad, fish, meat, grilled things, tripe specialties (yep--we're still in Italy!), breads, wines, salami and cheese--and that was just indoors.
We didn't explore as much outside, seeing as how we stood in line for a bit to get food from indoors--but this little place was serving up beer, bubbly and fried things. (If there's a Heaven, people, mine will prominently feature the latter two.)
Lunch: er...I was aiming for something small, so as to be (hopefully) at least marginally hungry for dinner, but our eyes got a little too big, and our resolve ebbed, as we divided and conquered. My finding: I intended to go for the rather more healthy octopus salad, but instead came away with a plate full of fried shrimp, calamari, and homemade potato chips (which came with a glass of bubbly, yesssss). Mike's get: a gorgeous arrangement of cheeses and meats, and plenty of wine.
The Mercato is open every day for lunch, and contains a little standing market, plus hosts farmers' markets and an open-air cinema. ZURICH, TAKE NOTE: WE NEED THIS. LET'S GET ONE OF THESE ASAP. IT WILL BE LIFE-CHANGING AND AWESOME FOR EVERYONE. That is all.
On our way over to our next Da Vinci appointment, our only glimpse of the cathedral this time around, which is unprecedented--this is usually the neighborhood in which we spend most of our time.
Final stop of the day was the Ambrosiana library and art gallery, which I think is the one of the best museums I've ever seen. It's big enough to while away a few hours, but small enough to be approachable--no museum burnout here! Plus, it's in a lovely and interesting old building (in the previous location of the ancient Roman forum), well and centrally located, and full of genuinely fascinating objects. Among heaps of other ridiculously interesting things, they've got a Da Vinci or two; Raphael's 'The School of Athens' (under restoration while we were there, don't you know); a Titian; a Botticelli (oooooh...); and a couple of mind-boggling Brueghel-the-Elders. Oh yeah, and a 17th-century library full of more Da Vinci drawings--this time, of more flying machines (one with bat-like wings); studies on friction; and of the natural movements, and man-made movement of, water (including things like bridges and dams, various hydraulic devices, and catastrophic flooding!)--with bonus Caravaggio. Once again, no photos allowed inside (at least, not to my knowledge...), but there are heaps of good photos here. Other things I loved: their collection of immaculately-preserved papal bulls, diplomas, and private documents from the 9th through 12th centuries (!); the way they arranged the light on most of the paintings to appear as though they were lit from behind (stunning!); the beautiful three-tiered courtyard trailing with vines, and full of ancient bronzes and sculptures; and some astonishingly complex and delicate marbles from the never-finished tomb of Gaston de Foix.****
A bunch of larger pieces (like this one) from the tomb are at Castello Sforzesco, and are truly amazing as well, but for me, the smaller, more delicate pieces at the Ambrosiana elicited a great deal of slack-jawed staring.
I know I said it just a moment ago, but I really do think this place ranks among the best museums I've ever visited, and I can't recommend it highly enough. If you're ever in the environs of Milano and you like awesome stuff, just go.
After the museum, we found a pub and tried to watch a game of the Rugby World Cup, but I actually fell asleep in the pub, and so Mike was kind enough to take me back to the hotel for a nap before dinner...in the process, missing the second half of the game. (Sorry, buddy. Although I did try to talk you into staying!) It's ok, though, 'cause after dinner, we found another pub and got to watch New Zealand (the eventual winners of it all) firmly trounce poor France, 62-13. (Yikes.)
But let's focus on the important stuff here: the food. Dinner was at Un Posto a Milano, a bar and restaurant set in an old farmhouse from the 1700s, which serves seasonal-local-typical food--so essentially, the perfect combination for a food and old-stuff enthusiast such as myself. We shared a salad and a plate of cannellini bean puree topped with julienned veggies (all salads and veggies from their garden, woo!), and then I had a vegetarian lasagna with mozzarella, tomato sauce, "winter vegetables" (whatever they were, they were tasty) and Parmigiano, and Mike went for the grilled fassone with salad and polenta. I think I liked the food at Tagiura a little better, but Un Posto was a very cool, essentially locals-only setting with some really fresh, interesting, and good food.
And with that, friends, our spectacularly successful weekend in Milano drew to a close. We hopped on the train north early the next morning--no Gotthard tunnel for us, yay!--and managed to get home with plenty of time to spare before Mike's rugby game that afternoon. Action-packed, to be sure, but what an excellent way to spend a few days in a city that we only thought we knew. I genuinely cannot wait to go back and see what else is there...!
Next up: another life-long dream achieved. We went to Athens, people. I'm still all aflutter.
*If you're even remotely as fascinated by all of this as I am, there's great information on the digs here. It's in German, of course, but hey, that's what Google Translate is for. There's a decent history on Münsterhof here, and while I fully realize that it's Wikipedia, it seems to be well-sourced. And, apparently, through the end of this month, they've got heaps of artifacts from the digs on display at the Landesmuseum right now. Didn't know that before, but now that I do, gotta get there.
**This book, right here. Which is how we found Tagiura, and, seeing as how we far, far prefer home cookin' to Michelin stars (not that we're going to stop with the stars, mind you, but Grandma's food is what we seek out!), this is how we're finding our Italian restaurants from now on. YUMMMMMM. This thing is published every two years, and it has a home on my bookshelf from NOW TO ETERNITY.
***The answer: 13 Euros, and 1.50 of that was spent on the bag they came in. Hah. Try that in Switzerland. No one's claiming they're the best wines of all time, but the Prosecco wasn't half bad.
****After seeing all of the grandeur, I had to look this guy up. Gaston de Foix was a ridiculously young, yet ridiculously successful, French military commander for only about a year. He was killed at age 22 while leading his troops to a complete rout of the Spanish from Ravenna in 1512, thus earning for himself the nickname "The Thunderbolt of Italy." His tomb was then commissioned by the French rulers of Milano, but went unfinished after they fled the city in 1522.
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