VINI DA GIGIO

From a story by Nicolò, Paolo, and Laura Lazzari

Vini da Gigio was born on March 1, 1981, when my family decided to take over what was then a cicchetteria (wine and snack bar) that had a few issues. My grandfather (Nicolò’s, Paolo’s father, noted) used to be a salumiere (delicatessen owner) in Giudecca, but he had the foresight to see that small shops like his would face challenges, so he sold the business and decided to make this investment. The women in the family—my grandmother and my aunt—dedicated themselves to the kitchen and cooking, while my father and grandfather took care of the counter, serving, and customers. Unfortunately, my grandfather passed away very early, a few years after the opening. But in the meantime, the women became more and more passionate about cooking, and my father became more interested in the world of wine. So, in 1990, we underwent a major renovation and decided to abandon the counter service and turn Vini da Gigio into a restaurant.

Over the next thirty years, the form and substance remained almost unchanged. It’s a simple, seasonal, and typical cuisine. The preparations are basic, including grilling, frying, and baking without excessive complications. Today, Aunt Laura still oversees the kitchen. It seems like I am the only one from the third generation who has the desire and pleasure to continue this business.

Our cuisine is primarily seafood-based, with more or less fixed menu items and daily specials, depending on availability—dishes of the day such as masorin (wild duck) in the autumn during hunting season, or moeche during molting season. And then there’s eel—a dish that’s becoming rare. We smoke and grill it, and it’s highly appreciated. In general, if someone asks for a dish not on the menu, like spaghetti with squid ink, and we have fresh squid, we’ll make it for them in two minutes. One of the most popular dishes—although there’s a lot of work behind it—is the tagliolini with spider crab.

In the end, most people come here to eat traditional dishes, done properly. This is our calling: it’s becoming increasingly rare to find places that make these few dishes, done well. We are a bit of a stronghold for this, and people appreciate being able to taste them again. Our clientele knows they will find these things here, either because they were recommended or because they read about us. It’s an educated clientele—they know about olive oils, grappas…they quickly understand what kind of restaurant they’re in. Our challenge is to find the maximum expression of quality in the individual ingredients—there aren’t many of them—and to educate the customer to recognize the value of quality in its simplicity.

On our part, lately, we’ve put a bit of a brake on accepting more people than we can handle to make them happy. This is also part of the good reception: our idea of consistency is to say, “Let’s do well what we love to do and have always been committed to doing.” And this pays off. Customers and colleagues often tell us that when they come to visit us, they always find a convivial, serene, and pleasant atmosphere.

As for the wines, I (Paolo, noted) have always felt attached to the idea of local wines, to all those micro-productions from Veneto and Friuli. We’ve also started looking for things that are different—macerations, unfiltered wines. I have a photo of a menu from the 1980s where I already had Gravner, just to give you an idea; it was an adventurous choice. While it’s good to have conventionally made, high-quality wines, artisanal products are also important. Like in music and art, it’s nice to be open, following a personal taste, but one that also accommodates people’s needs.

A nice feature that characterizes us is that children personalize the covers of our wine lists. We receive many of them, and some of them end up on the covers. The beautiful thing is that they naturally draw something related to the restaurant or Venice. Some of these drawings turn out to be amazing. This way, you manage to relax the child, and everyone is happier. Many who used to come with their parents now have such a strong bond with us that if they see me on the street, they call out to greet me—sometimes I feel like the father of so many generations. And now, many return as couples, having grown up, and perhaps they rediscover their drawing.

Good reception cannot be reduced to the concept of satisfaction. We want people to have an all-encompassing experience of reception. Sometimes you see people enter, tired and worn out—because Venice can be tiring and crowded at times. And then, after a couple of hours of good food, good music, friendly service, and a pleasant atmosphere, you see them relax, and in the end, they leave with a smile. That smile reminds me of what Good Reception means, and I know I have succeeded in giving these people a different and enjoyable memory of Venice. This is also part of the work of this association—the passion to make people feel good.