As soon as I realized that I was just down the road from Grand Hotel Tremezoo, it was pretty obvious that I’d need to be there in some capacity every day. One day it was a Michelin starred meal to celebrate a promotion, another day I’d simply broken a flip-flop or so my subconscious told me as I found myself purchasing hotelbranded Superga’s, oh and having a drink at their “beach bar”. Annnddd the other night, well I’d need to try their casual restaurant, L’Escale Trattoria and Wine Bar.
It wasn’t always planned to be such an intense love affair with the Grand Hotel Tremezzo. It was a slippery slope after starting the evening at Cantina La Follie, a must stop for anyone in the area. Nestled among ancient apartments, was a meandering system of caverns that was possibly the world’s coolest wine store. And gourmet store. And wine bar. And shipping proprietor. And, and, and…..
I will admit, when I visited the roof deck (quite hot) that it was full of Americans. The spot must have had a good write-up somewhere. I can’t recall where I’d heard of it, but I bet the rest of the roof didn’t either. I just let the waitress choose for me in terms of wine and snacks. She recommended a flight of FIVE and cheese/charcuterie for 20. Well, then. We must, so we did. AND THEN…the greatest thing that I drank wasn’t even on the card below, it was the Castello Bonomi Franciacorta, Grand Cuvee. Holy guacamole was this stuff good. I contemplated shipping a case home, but settled on one bottle after learning of the outrageous transportation costs. I drank it in the pool on the Fourth of July. Yolo. Give it a Goog. Every article is titled something to the effect of “this is the greatest wine from the dopest place that you didn’t know you were missing.” No jokes. Try it.
After all of that wonderful, delightful, intoxicating, Italian wine, it will be simple to talk yourself into a nice, but casual dinner at L’Escale Trattoria and Wine Bar.
Insanely delightful bread. Odd, but festive plates. Lake Como views.
They’ll make you an off-menu green salad when you confess that you can’t eat pasta for EVERY course. (I mean you could, but you’re a lady).
For the main event, make sure to order the homemade ravioli. Cheesy, pesto-y goodnes that they are.
That’s all she wrote! No desert, no coffee, no digestivo. A simple meal. An aggressive amount of wine and an early evening. Is that not the most Italian of stallions?