Venissa falls a bit short of its promise, but is still a worthy choice for a memorable Venetian stay

As a high-concept project, Venissa Wine Resort is fascinating. As a reality for eating, drinking and sleeping, it still has some work to do.

Let’s start with the positives. Its Michelin-starred restaurant is worth building a trip around, its bedrooms offer a comfortable off-the-beaten track base for exploring the Venetian lagoon, and its vineyard is driving a truly fascinating experiment in wine. However ... the wine is no match for others at its elevated price point, the rooms and staffing fall below what you'd expect from the word "resort" or the luxurious promise of their website, and dining at their osteria (a simpler alternative to their restaurant) was disappointing.

WINE

If you’re a wine lover, you can’t help but be intrigued by what they’re trying to do here. A series of modern floods had wiped out the grape variety native to the lagoon. Or so everyone thought. In the early ‘00s Venissa’s owner discovered remnants of those vines on Torcello and decided to try to replant a vineyard on Mazzorbo to make the traditional wine of the lagoon. Yes, you can grow grapes in what is essentially a salt marsh. This is the lowest altitude vineyard in the world. But it only works if you grow a local variety that’s evolved over the centuries to cope with the conditions; shallow soil, occasional flooding and a lot of salt in air and ground. The Dorona grapes are fat and golden, thick skinned and intensely sweet, but you don't have to be an expert to see that this isn’t a heavy cropper. Given that we were on the brink of harvest, and the only source of fruit was the vineyard next to the hotel, it's easy to see why this wine is a rare and expensive thing.

For €65 per person you can get a guided tour of the vineyard and taste four wines … two whites from Venissa’s grapes and two reds of their production from grapes grown in another vineyard in the Lagoon. I found this a better way to understand and sample the wine than taking a punt on the unknown label at €35 a glass from the hotel bar. Our host Luca settled us in to Venissa’s blissfully air-conditioned wine shop to take us through the details of the project. The same Dorona grapes in the same vineyard produce two varieties; the super premium Venissa that develops on its skin for four weeks before aging for at least four years (around €130 a bottle, varying slightly with vintage), and the slightly less lofty Venusa (still €70 a bottle). The Venissa bottles are as precious as what’s in them; hand blown to reflect Venice’s glass making tradition with a label of 24-carat gold fused into the glass and then etched. Each Venissa vintage is distinguished by a different shape of the the golden fusion.

The marketing, design and story make a compelling combination for any lover of wine. And the taste? Citrusy, dry, some notes of spice, pleasantly complex. I couldn’t distinguish that much of a difference … certainly not a double-the-price difference … between the Venissa and Venusa. There are few wines I’d be willing to spend this much money on and, for my tastes, there are plenty in moderate price ranges that could match this flavour profile. The reds were Merlot/Cabernet Sauvignon blends that drank more like sophisticated pinot noirs; light and full of strawberry and violet but with potential for more complex vanilla and tobacco to emerge. Again, pleasant but at a very high price point for what it is, even if the better one continues with the special bottling art, here fusing copper into the glass instead of gold. and pleasant, You’re paying for the experience and the education, however, rather than tasting to buy, and for that it's a worthy excursion.

FOOD

Probably most successful on the experience front at Venissa is its restaurant, awarded a Michelin star for its food and another Michelin green star for its sustainability. The guide introduced its new sustainability award in 2021 and the save-the-planet vibes are the most distinctive thing about Venissa the restaurant. It isn’t vegan, but it is extremely vegetable heavy and everything comes from in, or very close to, the Venetian lagoon. All producers, naturally, are organic. All the proteins on your plate come from invasive species that are hurting the lagoon and its native species. Eating them helps return balance to the environment. Examples include large-mouth bass, imported from America as a sporting catch and now threatening the local fish with their voracious appetites, and blue crab from Asia that arrived along with the ballast in international ships. 

While green positioning had the potential to become overly preachy, the worthiness disappears beneath an onslaught of exquisite food that’s a feast for the eyes and the taste buds. If saving the planet was always this much fun, more people would do it. 

We went for the 10-course tasting menu, manageable because most courses were just a few bites. That bass made up my favourite course; a tartare in a crisp pastry shell covered with a tapestry of vivid micro herbs. The crab was a close second, tossed with spaghetti, a hint of tomatoes from the garden and wild flowers. The ingredients might all be local but the kitchen team brings influences from around the world. There’s a good deal of Danish-inspired fermentation, distinctly North American corn cakes and hints of Japan and Southeast Asia in spicing and sauces. 

Puddings were especially surprising. I never suspected that artichoke leaves could produce something deceptively close to coffee (used in an affogato) or that you could use aubergine in a sweet; in this case as the filling in a mille-feuille. Like the inventive cep soufflé at Ekstedt at The Yard, this is another example of a flavour-carrying vegetable's ability to transform into the unexpected. 

The dining room is in a majestic, restored agricultural building with such generous spacing between the tables and so many servers taking you through your evening I had to wonder how … even at a starry €290/£250 per person for the dinner and wine flight … they were making any margin. It’s actually quite good value for money against an equivalent experience in England, and the inventiveness of the cuisine is definitely worth going out of your way for. 

The osteria also attached to the hotel is, however, a disappointment. When the same management does Michelin-starred fine dining and a casual, less expensive option, you want the two to be strikingly different. The osteria here feels like an afterthought to the restaurant, and not its own entity, serving up cheaper variations of the tastes next door but without the theatrical service. Having revelled in the vegetal invention, fascinating proteins and modern approaches, on the next evening I was ready to settle in to some traditional Venetian favourites. That's what you assume you’ll get at something called an osteria in the middle of the lagoon, but that's not what's really on offer. While it might have been less expensive than the night before, it was really just a pale imitation of what we'd already done. At £90 per person for dinner and drinks we’re confident we could have done better with a 10-minute walk over to Burano for some heartier, simpler cuisine. (We didn't manage to bring in Burano's Il Gatto Nero, our favourite meal of the trip, under this price point, but that's because we had an embarrassingly profligate evening. With more modest ordering and drinking, you could easily beat the Venissa Osteria's pricing there.)

STAY

The third element of our Venissa experience was the stay itself. This is a “restaurant with rooms”, something I suspect is essential to running a Michelin-starred eatery here as the only transport is by boat, the public water buses stop running before dinner’s end and a private taxi back to Venice will add 30% to your dining bill. You might as well just stay. There are five rooms here and 15 under the same management in houses a short walk away on Burano. (Most of our fellow diners were Italian, but I doubt any were local to the islands.)  

We loved the location next to the vineyard, 50 metres from the Mazzorbo water bus stop and a 10-minute walk to Burano. It’s the only tourist business on this tiny island, so it really feels like going local. The whole place is quiet and relaxing. While the osteria didn't impress us at dinner its location ... essentially a large, screened pavilion next to the vines ... made for a hugely picturesque breakfast spot.

The views from our room over a canal to a couple of miniature palazzi were fabulous, and the air conditioning was fantastically efficient. (It was 30c every day and extremely humid, so that last bit was critical.) But by branding themselves a “wine resort” with a website screaming luxury they were making promises they can’t keep. With so few rooms this is, understandably, not staffed as a hotel would be and there’s often no staff around. The experience is more AirB&B than hotel. Admittedly, for just under €200 a night it’s not luxury pricing, so it's less a complaint than an observation about perception versus reality. But I still would have expected better mattress and pillow quality. The 3-star business hotel my husband stays in during his working week charges a third of the price offers a much better night’s sleep on bedding that feels far more luxurious. In the bathroom, water pressure is poor and anyone approaching 6 feet will have to crouch beneath the shower head to get clean. The last isn’t a surprise in an old property, and may have something to do with their green credentials, but but again isn’t in tune with the promise of the hospitality they’re marketing. 

Bottom Line: If you’re a foodie, I’d definitely recommend the Michelin-starred dining experience. If you're eating here it’s worth the convenience of staying over the restaurant. Just adjust your expectations for a more basic accommodation than the marketing implies. If I were to return to this part of the lagoon for more than one night, however, I’d check out other options on Burano. It's clear they are limited, however, so I’d guarantee air conditioning and try to find some testimony about better beds before I gave up the relative safety of Venissa. On the wine front, I don’t think their production tastes as premium as its lofty price tag, but if you’re interested in viticulture and wine marketing it’s worth doing the wine tasting. However long you stay, don’t bother with the osteria here. Walk over to Burano for a more traditional experience, particularly at Il Gatto Nero.

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.