To roam, to go down a road less travelled, to taste the real thing is a pleasure. I forget for a moment (or a few days) what I shouldn’t be ingesting. Instead, I immerse myself and get lost in this living, breathing, floating museum city.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask for soya milk. I just couldn’t. Asking for decaf alone was done meekly. Dealing with mucus-forming dairy was manageable, though my body was glad to see the end, but my head isn’t as merciful with the intensity of caffeine.
For five days, I indulged in cups of decaffeinated cappuccino in search for the best in Venezia. From the daily morning cups served at our hotel to the numerous cups ordered at various osterie, cantine e ristoranti, I arrived at a result.
It wasn’t the one served at premier seats along the Canal Grande, nor was it the one at the best restaurant in the city at Da Fiore. It wasn’t even the most expensive one at 8 Euros at Harry’s Bar. The cup of cappuccino I found most delicious, was the one served in an inconspicuous place along a dark alley — Caffé del Doge. Of course, that’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy the other cups. They were all savoured to the last drop and foam. Caffé del Doge stood out in its exact proportion of espresso to milk for my palate. A lovely surprise we wouldn’t have experienced had we not wandered around the corner.