Mazzorbo and Burano offer uncrowded Venetian magic; Il Gatto Nero the lagoon's best restaurant

I have been blessed to visit Venice at least once a decade since the ‘70s, when my wide-eyed 12-year-old self drank in the romance of a gondola ride in an empty canal, revelled in getting lost in back lanes and imagined the terror of being led to a prison cell over the Bridge of Sighs. And while I’ve enjoyed all the trips that followed, none were as good as that first one. That’s because, tragically, Venice has been “Patient Zero” for the ever-growing epidemic of overtourism. Each decade has brought the place a little closer to a shoulder-to-shoulder, Disney version of itself, until I swore that I was giving up. I’d treasure my memories of a better Venice, and leave La Serenissima’s modern lanes to the crowds.

But then came the opportunity to fly in and out of Marco Polo airport for a wedding we’d be attending. All over England I’d watched the masses flock to the usual suspects while nearby sights … often of equal historic and artistic significance … were almost empty. Might the same be true of the Venetian lagoon? I’d never been north of Murano, and had only been on a handful of the more than 30 inhabited islands. Could I recapture the magic of the Venice of my childhood on a neighbouring isle?

Yes.

Mazzorbo and Burano have captured my heart, and given the state of Venice these days I’d advise even first time visitors to stay here and travel into the main city for sightseeing, rather than the usual reverse day trip. Tiny Mazzorbo has a population of less than 300. On a morning stroll around the island you’ll pass locals returning from their grocery shop, and be passed by others on their morning jog before going to work. The main language in the air is actually Italian. Small as it is, the island still exists for its residents and not for the visitors who drive so much of the lagoon’s economy.

Burano, population 2,800, is more crowded and more obviously driven by tourism. But even here in high season, it’s manageable. Visitors share restaurants with locals. Shop keepers are still pleasant and willing to engage in conversation. There’s evidence of both older people and school-age children, the two groups that tend to disappear first when tourism becomes so all-pervasive it drives out everything else. If you wander around before 10 or after five, you're amongst a handful of tourists surrounded by people who actually live here.

I realise that the mere act of writing this endangers the magic I’ve found here. But these islands aren’t for everyone. They’re quiet, there are limited things to see and it’s more complicated to get here. Hotel and B&B options are limited. While there are AirB&B options, in Venice they’ve contributed to pricing locals out of the market, so they’re being watched carefully here. The effort and limited supply mean it would be a waste of time to stay here for less than two nights. And none of these locals are under any illusion: you are still a tourist and tourism still drives the economy. It’s just in better balance than the behemoth 40-minutes by ferry across the lagoon. 

We’re staying at Venissa, branded as a “wine resort” and definitely a bit of a splurge, but I’m happy with the choice. (See full review here.) A brisk stroll takes you to the tourist heart of Burano in less than 15 minutes. But turn the other way, and explore the rest of Mazzorbo rather than crossing the bridge, and you’ll discover an island almost entirely residential. I only spotted one other restaurant outside of the confines of Venissa. The views are exceptional. There are pretty canals lined with colourful houses, farm fields, and long views off the island towards the marsh, other islands and the majestic towers of Venice on the southern horizon. 

To the north, the outline of almost-deserted Torcello beckons. On a weekday, the aquatic traffic alternates between the water bus line coming up from Venice and the delivery boats that bring much of the islands’ everyday needs, but on Sunday they were full of Italian families out on small boats for a day of fun.

Neighbouring Burano’s claim to modern fame is its colour scheme. It’s one of the most colourful places on earth, with every house painted a different shade with white window frames to make them pop. Nobody’s going for subtle earth tones here: vivid purples, electric blues, Barbie pinks, emerald greens and Cabernet reds shout for attention. It should make your head hurt, but the terracotta tile roofs bring unity while the gray stone and red brick of the pavements and the blue/green of the canals offer a soothing backdrop. The array is actually carefully planned by local government; any change of shade needs to be authorised. In this way, the densely packed area … less than a square mile … keeps its rainbow charm. 

Much like Venice but on a vastly smaller scale, a main canal winds through the island. It’s along this, plus one broad street leading to a piazza and the church, that the majority of the sightseeing is on offer. 

Before the Industrial Revolution allowed mass production, Burano was known for its lace. The women of the island made it while the men went fishing to feed the nearby city. There’s little modern demand, or willingness to pay for the vast amount of time needed, for hand-made lace. What’s left of the trade does allow some excellent shopping if you’re interested in sumptuous table linens, bridal veils or lace Christmas ornaments. There’s a museum of lace making on the main square, but the only place I actually saw anyone making anything was in the exceptionally upscale Martina Vidal, where a lady’s exceptionally deft fingers belied her obviously advanced age.

There’s also a generous spill-over in glass making from nearby Murano. Burano doesn’t have the big workshops producing large pieces like art glass or chandeliers, but there are more than a dozen shops with a workbench at the back where locals make beads, pendants and small figurines. Glass reproductions of fruit and wrapped candies are abundant. One shop stands out: Andrea Senigaglia. He fuses gold leaf onto the surface of glass, then etches designs into the metallic surface … from simple letters to a virtuoso copy of Caravaggio’s Bacchus etched into a golden bottle. 

You’ll also find a sprinkling of Venetian mask shops and, in a fusion of two islands, lace versions of the classic carnival wear. I saw enough similarity between the examples in different shops to question whether these were hand made or important from some cheap factory to the east. Let the buyer beware. 

Window shopping is delightful, and there are abundant local restaurants to fuel your efforts. The real joy of Burano, however, is stepping off main lanes and wandering around the purely residential bits. Some of the houses are new and eye-watering lay bright. Others have mellowed and are in a state of gentle repair. All are a photographer’s paradise and, unlike Venice, will reward the patient photographer with a people-free shot without too much waiting. 

The food here is also far better than the Venetian standard, which so often is average at best. I suspect the difference is that restaurants on Burano need locals to come back if they're to do anything more than a lunch trade, so they can't afford to fob anyone off with overpriced or average. So even the spots we stumbled into without any planning ... octopus salad and pesto trofie at Da Gigetto, just off the main square; cocktails at In Piazzetta on that square (and owned by an American who's gone local); or a beer and some cicchetti at Picnic, looking over the water to the skyline of Venice ... were tasty and good value. 

The best meal by far, however, was one we'd planned. Because despite being off the beaten track you're unlikely to get into Il Gatto Nero without a reservation. I learned about it because one of my favourite chefs, Angela Hartnett  ... English but of Italian descent ... says it's her favourite restaurant in the Venetian Lagoon. (You can read my review of her London flagship Murano here.) If Angela said that, and we were staying a short walk away, we had to go. She was, naturally, right.

Though there's a large dining room inside, on summer evenings all the service happens at tables along the canal outside, which is otherwise residential and silent after 6pm. We were the last table along the row, giving us nothing but twilight scenery in one direction and the occasional gliding of fishermen's boats coming home behind us. It was one of the most romantic settings for dining I can remember, and would have made for a memorable evening even if the food had been average. 

But it was well beyond that!

We were lucky enough to strike up a conversation with owner/manager Massimiliano Bovo on arrival (we didn't know who he was at the time), and the combination of our mentioning Angela and our obvious enthusiasm for food and wine meant he took a special interest in us all night. Prompted by his delightful banter ... in a broad Scots accent he'd picked up while living in the UK ... and the magic of the evening, we told him to choose for us and bring out whatever was best that day. After which followed the kind of meal that features in Italian fantasy ... combined with the kind of gluttony that land people in the third circle of Dante's hell.

There were little rounds of polenta topped with bits of seafood to pique our appetite. Hearing that my husband's tomato allergy kept him from having the crab dish at an earlier meal, Massimiliano made sure we had the best of the local crab to come out of the lagoon that day. Risotto came with a helpful conversation about the techniques that made theirs so good, and a packet of their favourite rice to take home. There was a plate of spaghetti with lobster, taken to another level by a crown of fresh courgette flowers. Admittedly it's not usual to have risotto and pasta at the same meal, but Massimiliano clearly recognised me as a woman who's partial to the magic of carbohydrates. Yes, of course we were full by this point, but out came a magnificent sea bass baked in salt with a few seasonal vegetable sides.

The tiramisu ... a dish I rarely order in restaurants because it's normally just wine soaked biscuits and whipped cream ... was the only one I've ever tasted that matches the labour-intensive but delicious, zabaglione-laced recipe I use at home. I admit it. Il Gatto Nero's was even better. All of this was washed down with an excellent local white wine. It was a profligate meal and I could hardly move by the end of it, between the distension of my stomach and the fact that the majority of my blood had clearly been rerouted to work on digestion. But, my god, it was good. Forget St. Mark's Square. The Doge's Palace can wait. Even the rainbow of Burano houses pales in comparison. If there's one "must do" in the Venetian Lagoon, I think it may be eating here.

I’m content to leave the big city of Venice and all those crazy crowds to my memories. Mazzorbo and Burano are a welcome reminder that there are plenty of joys still to be explored in the Venetian Lagoon. You just have to sail off the beaten track. And come hungry.