For soup we had Carpaccio, the bowls so full of Venetian pageantry they threatened to overflow when the doges supplied as a complementary garnish were added.
A choice of Carbonari or Carabineri for entree.
Caravaggio was the fish of the day, its light flesh standing out against the dark plate it was presented on, the accompanying vegetables steamed to retain the piquancy of their natural color. We ordered a bottle of Monteverdi to go with it all but it had soured after laying untouched for so many years. A young Morricone was offered &
accepted as a suitable replacement.
For dessert lemon-flavoured Giotto eaten al fresco on the vine-covered verandah. Palates refreshed, we returned inside to round the meal off with coffee & Giacometti.
We put the bill on Amerigo Vespucci, pausing as we left to admire the Canneloni hanging on the stairwell walls. Those enigmatic mannequins followed us home.