The South Found Us First
Come Si Fa — A Summer Series
We were circling streets and dizzying roundabouts to find our Airbnb. After the flight from New York, navigating the Risorgimento neighborhood dull-eyed and heavy on the jet lag, Michele spotted it first. A tiny restaurant, Bello e Buono. We parked the car and approached. Two wet outdoor tables sat on Viale Sabotino, still glistening from the torrential rain that had just passed through. A peek inside revealed a whole vibe, with only four little tables crammed together, all of them full. Straight Napoletano. Unapologetic in presentation. Packed. A couple left as we approached. The owner motioned us in. Party of four. Starting our visit to Milan squarely in the south.
This was the kind of food that Nonna made on a Sunday. Rustic, generous, straightforward. We started with off-menu antipasti. Hearty croquette-ish fried potato bites infused and brought to life with sharp pecorino. Thick-cut slices of friarielli-filled savory pastry. A verdure grillate plate, dazzling in its simplicity, of more friarielli, zucchini and tomato-covered eggplant. Flavors you'd expect to start a meal at a proper Neapolitan table.
Primi was the Scarpariello for me, a spaghetti dressed with datterino tomato, basil and Parmigiano. I like to keep it simple when I try a new kitchen. When I want to understand the voice and perspective of a place. I order the thing they cannot hide behind. A plain tomato sauce over pasta is the most transparent. It tells you everything. The quality of the olive oil, the patience of the chef, his level of ego, what he wants to say, what he wants to give. I am happy to report that this kitchen had nothing to prove. The sauce was soulful and rich in that distinctly southern way. It was also grounding, setting me softly and firmly in the energy of this city in the way that the best food does after a long journey.
My daughter had the Masaniello, a pennette dish with tomato sauce, sausage, Parmigiano and basil. She ate every bite without looking up. Michele and our friend Massi shared our pastas and finished our meal the proper way, with tiny clear glasses half-filled with espresso. On the way out, Rasta downed a shot of limoncello for good measure. We stumbled outside into the rain, heavy-lidded and ready for our pillows, and waited under the awning as Massi lit a cigarette and enjoyed the quintessential Italian closing ritual of having a good smoke after a good meal.
And here is what I want you to take from this, wherever you are reading it: Your first meal in a new place is not incidental. It sets the tone, anchors you, and tells you something true about where you are. We could have ordered UberEats. We could have grabbed a panini at the airport. Instead we sat down in a tiny room stuffed with four crammed tables on a wet Milanese street and ate food that tasted like home.
Be thoughtful about that first meal. Order something simple. Consume the local energy. Begin your journey by nourishing yourself with the spirit of your surroundings.
Bello e Buono, Viale Sabotino 14, Milan. Dinner for four: €20–30 per person. No reservation needed, but go early.
