I didn't bring my last Slow Food Guide nor recent Michelin's or Gambero Rosso's so I dropped into Rizzoli and scoped and bought. But to my disappointment, nothing was open Sunday night. So, to the net.
Et voila, on Chowhound, which rec'd one of 2 places, the Great Gatsby rec'd one that was 14 minutes from my luxurious glorious glamourous hotel. So I call the Concierge - "do i need a rez, I sent them an email but,.......?" "I'll make one."
Exit, go past the Duomo, look across the street, there's a streetcar #3 coming, leap on, is it going where I want?" "Yesssssss." Leap off, one block away from the resto; easy money.
Enter, wall cartouche like the Repaire de Cartouche, old look, coooool.
Menu interesting. Order a plain green salad and risotto Milanese. (Now, I must confess, I have never found a risotto to match that outside Modena;) so I was "on guard."
Green salad arrives (mache if it be told) with requisite EVOO and Balsamic and pepper. Pretty damn good.
There's a table with four Asian women who order something that looks strange - now what did their guidebooks tell them to order? Despite the myth that Colette, D. Tannen and others believe - that men cannot ask; they can. It was Stracciatella. Ok that's logical.
Risotto comes; hummmmm, risotto, ok, risotto, at this point I begin to pick at it. The owner appears speaking French and "offers me" a juice of osso buco with celery and other veggies - it turns into heaven. My oh my.
Then he brings out some gorgonzola - "just to try" - oh my.
By now I'm in his hands, so when he doesn't charge me for a piccolo grappa, I protest, but not too much.
With a 1/2 bottle of wine, no bottled water, no dessert or coffee and a wonderful view of a park outside, my bill was 29.50 E.