If you like veal, however, you’re in luck. Forget about the greens and stuff yourself with all the milk-fed vitello cotoletta, milanese and ossobuco you can. Have a salad when you get home.
Ossobuco on a bed of risotto milanese is the most iconic dish of the region. It’s one of those deceptively simple recipes that’s very easy to get wrong. Veal shank, slow cooked in stock, carrots, celery, onions and garlic (there are your vegetables!), with the marrow from the bones thickening and bringing it all together as it cooks down. Get it wrong and it’s a tough, gelatinous mess. Done well, it’s a melt-in-your-mouth triumph of meaty goodness.
To taste this classic at its best, book a table at Trattoria all’Antica on the Via Montevideo, on the northern edge of the Navigli district a short walk from the Coni Zugna tram station. This is a small but elegant local place with classy, modern interiors and a short menu of regional specialities. It’s run by husband and wife team Luca and Susana Conti, and you feel their close personal involvement in everything. There’s the printed menu, but this is also the kind of place you can just put yourself in the hands of the waiter who will roll out Luca’s specials of the evening. We dined there twice and appeared to be the only tourists in a place packed full of locals both nights, which I figure is always a good sign. The food was so spectacular that before we’d finished our main courses on the first night, we asked if we could book another dinner within our three-night stay.
The ossobuco was perfection, and I can validate that having tried a more famous restaurant’s version the night before. (More of that below.) The veg had melted and coalesced into a thick and flavourful sauce. The meat was sweet and tender, any hint of fat rendered away. Its pillow of risotto was a textbook combination of al dente bite and creamy sauce, spiked with a pleasant hit of saffron. This is the comfort food of your dreams.
There was much more that was worthy of note at this gem of a restaurant. On our first visit the waiter let us know that it was the very end of white truffle season, and there was a little of that magical ingredient in the kitchen that could be incorporated into a variety of dishes. Truffles aren’t for mushroom haters or those on a tight budget. The concentrated essence of funghi, like the distillation of a rich forest floor, but in the case of the white truffles with an astonishing delicacy and nuance. They’re also one of the most expensive raw ingredients in the world, so wiser diners than us might have asked the price before ordering the home-made tagliatelle with truffles and cream sauce. We didn’t. And I don’t regret it, despite the €35 sticker shock. Another example here of the guiding philosophy of great Italian cuisine: if your ingredients are top quality, you don’t need to combine too many to create greatness. Just let the essential elements sing.
To accompany the luxury pasta, our waiter introduced us to Franciacorta. While Italy produces a lot of sparkling whites … most notably Prosecco … this Lombardian DOCG is Italy’s closest competitor to Champagne. Generally made with the same grapes, grown in similar conditions, using the same production methods, but with the fruit sitting on its lees for a minimum of 18 months versus champagne’s 15. The Italians say their slower maturation process makes for a more flavourful wine; I couldn’t argue with the glass in my hand. The bargain €7 a glass also helped balance the truffle splurge.
Ossobuco on a bed of risotto milanese is the most iconic dish of the region. It’s one of those deceptively simple recipes that’s very easy to get wrong. Veal shank, slow cooked in stock, carrots, celery, onions and garlic (there are your vegetables!), with the marrow from the bones thickening and bringing it all together as it cooks down. Get it wrong and it’s a tough, gelatinous mess. Done well, it’s a melt-in-your-mouth triumph of meaty goodness.
To taste this classic at its best, book a table at Trattoria all’Antica on the Via Montevideo, on the northern edge of the Navigli district a short walk from the Coni Zugna tram station. This is a small but elegant local place with classy, modern interiors and a short menu of regional specialities. It’s run by husband and wife team Luca and Susana Conti, and you feel their close personal involvement in everything. There’s the printed menu, but this is also the kind of place you can just put yourself in the hands of the waiter who will roll out Luca’s specials of the evening. We dined there twice and appeared to be the only tourists in a place packed full of locals both nights, which I figure is always a good sign. The food was so spectacular that before we’d finished our main courses on the first night, we asked if we could book another dinner within our three-night stay.
The ossobuco was perfection, and I can validate that having tried a more famous restaurant’s version the night before. (More of that below.) The veg had melted and coalesced into a thick and flavourful sauce. The meat was sweet and tender, any hint of fat rendered away. Its pillow of risotto was a textbook combination of al dente bite and creamy sauce, spiked with a pleasant hit of saffron. This is the comfort food of your dreams.
There was much more that was worthy of note at this gem of a restaurant. On our first visit the waiter let us know that it was the very end of white truffle season, and there was a little of that magical ingredient in the kitchen that could be incorporated into a variety of dishes. Truffles aren’t for mushroom haters or those on a tight budget. The concentrated essence of funghi, like the distillation of a rich forest floor, but in the case of the white truffles with an astonishing delicacy and nuance. They’re also one of the most expensive raw ingredients in the world, so wiser diners than us might have asked the price before ordering the home-made tagliatelle with truffles and cream sauce. We didn’t. And I don’t regret it, despite the €35 sticker shock. Another example here of the guiding philosophy of great Italian cuisine: if your ingredients are top quality, you don’t need to combine too many to create greatness. Just let the essential elements sing.
To accompany the luxury pasta, our waiter introduced us to Franciacorta. While Italy produces a lot of sparkling whites … most notably Prosecco … this Lombardian DOCG is Italy’s closest competitor to Champagne. Generally made with the same grapes, grown in similar conditions, using the same production methods, but with the fruit sitting on its lees for a minimum of 18 months versus champagne’s 15. The Italians say their slower maturation process makes for a more flavourful wine; I couldn’t argue with the glass in my hand. The bargain €7 a glass also helped balance the truffle splurge.
On our first night at Antica I’d opted for the cotoletta on the waiter’s recommendation, and it was extraordinary. Essentially a lightly-breaded and pan-fried veal chop, it’s so easy to dry these out I often consider it too risky to order. No need to fear here. I honestly don’t know how they preserved that much moisture in the meat, and got such an intense contrast between the dry, crispy coating and the succulent interior. The instinctive reaction with breaded meats is to serve a sauce; it would have been pointless here.
Other delights across our two meals included a variety of local appetisers, beef tagliata, a classic yet feather-light chestnut tart and our introduction to Roero, a variety of red wine from neighbouring Piedmont made with Nebbiolo.
Our hotel’s top recommendation for local restaurants was Osteria del Binari, and it came a close second. This place is far bigger and has been a culinary anchor in the Navigli neighbourhood since the 1970s. Its roots go deeper, however. It started life as a social club for people who worked on the railways (“binari” are railway platforms). It’s next to the tracks leading into one of Milan’s oldest stations and the interiors have a classic late 19th century vibe. If you grew up in the United States, as I did, this fusion of dark wood furniture, Victorian lighting, jewel tones and art nouveau decorative touches is exactly what you think a posh Italian restaurant is supposed to look like. While Antica has perhaps 50 covers, Binari has hundreds spread across a warren of different rooms. We were out in the winter garden, essentially an old Victorian-era glasshouse with stone floors and fireplaces on either end. The rail tracks lie just beyond. This place wins hands down on atmosphere.
Other delights across our two meals included a variety of local appetisers, beef tagliata, a classic yet feather-light chestnut tart and our introduction to Roero, a variety of red wine from neighbouring Piedmont made with Nebbiolo.
Our hotel’s top recommendation for local restaurants was Osteria del Binari, and it came a close second. This place is far bigger and has been a culinary anchor in the Navigli neighbourhood since the 1970s. Its roots go deeper, however. It started life as a social club for people who worked on the railways (“binari” are railway platforms). It’s next to the tracks leading into one of Milan’s oldest stations and the interiors have a classic late 19th century vibe. If you grew up in the United States, as I did, this fusion of dark wood furniture, Victorian lighting, jewel tones and art nouveau decorative touches is exactly what you think a posh Italian restaurant is supposed to look like. While Antica has perhaps 50 covers, Binari has hundreds spread across a warren of different rooms. We were out in the winter garden, essentially an old Victorian-era glasshouse with stone floors and fireplaces on either end. The rail tracks lie just beyond. This place wins hands down on atmosphere.
There was a bigger menu here. More vegetables. More seafood options. Some gorgeous stuffed pasta. Dishes presented in a “chef-ier” way. Bigger wine list. But in a taste-to-taste comparison the flavours were just a bit less impressive. My ossobuco had a very slight sheen of unincorporated fat on its surface. The waiters and the sommelier were efficient and businesslike, but lacked the chatty interaction of those at Antica. Binari just felt a bit more functional, but that’s not surprising from a place serving four times the diners.
While Antica is my first choice, I’d happily return to Binari … especially in the summer when that conservatory would be flooded with light and there’s a garden where club members once played bocce. Whatever the choice, our two restaurants supported the idea that dining out is reason enough to spend a bit of time in Milano.
But one shouldn’t live on great food alone. There’s culture in Milan to delight your eyes as thoroughly as these two places pleased the stomach. I’ll cover sightseeing highlights in my next article.
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