On the second day of drizzle-downpour, we had an early espresso with the shopkeepers and tradesmen on their way to work, then hopped the hydrofoil and crossed the lake to Luino and its Wednesday market. The rain had no effect on vendors, who were set up under plastic tarps and selling everything you could find in a second-rate department store.
We dodged puddles and overhead runoffs and had a pretty miserable time. When we finally found the food and flower stalls, the rain abated for 15 minutes and we soaked up the smells and banter and bought lunch. It was raining before we got to the boat launch. That afternoon we drove 45 minutes to Lake Orta and the Alessi design factory, which we located via a large die-cut signature teapot in the sky. No factory tours here, only a discount showroom, with some prices a third less than retail.
Lake Garda, Italy's largest lake, is dotted with more than two dozen villages, like the picturesque Malcesine.
() Johnathan Smith, Cordaiy Photo Library Ltd./corbis)
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Cannobio, architecturally distinguished by its heavy wooden doors, stone balconies and wrought-iron railings, has half a dozen upscale clothing and shoe stores, a Renaissance-era church and a working blacksmith's shop, which is where we passed some time. The forge fire chased away the gloom. We poked around overflowing shelves of graceful lamps, military statuettes and utilitarian cookware, buying two iron wall sconces shaped like spiders.
Conversation came easily with Massimo and Maria, owners of Ristorante A.D., where we ate dinner twice. It was one of the few places I found throughout the trip that served the time-consuming risotto for one. Maria prepared hers with fresh pumpkin. Foul weather and fall kept customers away, so we had time to talk about cooking, gardening and mushroom hunting. My husband spoke in broken Italian, our hosts in better broken English, and I drew pictures. Conversation never ebbed.
When it was time to prepare dinner, Maria ran up the iron spiral staircase to the second-floor kitchen. Dishes came down a dumbwaiter and were served by Massimo. Our meal ended with the four of us sharing a glass of Barolo Chinato, an aperitivo made from 32 herbs.
Lake Como
We arrived in Bellagio at Lake Como, Italy's third-largest but best-known lake, on a cloudless afternoon. Everyone was jockeying for a cafe table or bench in the sun. It rained for the next two days, but the skies cleared each evening, which gave us false hope and the chance to window shop and leisurely stroll in search of a trattoria. We'd take the long way home, promenading along the lake to catch the moon's reflection in the water.
We viewed the busy lake traffic from the French doors of our third-story room at the aging dowager Hotel Excelsior Splendide, an attraction in itself. The 1907 hotel is Old World charming with a yellow and pink marble floor, cherub frescoes and a magnificent internal stairway leading straight to a flaking Heaven on the ceiling. Two well-dressed poodles had the room next to ours.
The hotel does not attract the international glitterati who favor Lake Como. Fellow guests appeared to be middle-class Italians and German couples on quiet holiday, or English women of a certain age on tour. At night, the dining room was full at 7 sharp.
A dozen villas and gardens are near Bellagio and open to the public. We passed on them and drove to Kennedy Farm, located high above the village of Nesso, halfway between Bellagio and Como. It was another driving adventure, and we found the farm after several wrong turns along a seven-mile switchback road studded with grottos, ravines and waterfalls. Two hunters with their dogs pointed the way up the mountain, and we hiked up the Pian di Nesso, a mesa in the foothills surrounding the lake. It was a rare sunny day and an unknown path could not deter us.
We returned 1 1/2 hours later and the farmhouse restaurant had a fire crackling. There is no menu; guests eat what is harvested from the garden or is shot or raised on the farm. This day it was polenta, zucchini and an apple tart.
