Gallo: Rome, Milan, and the Joy of Being Together
When we step through the door of a restaurant, we bring with us everything the day has brought us—whether it’s worries, good news, or a mood that’s more or less cheerful. The restaurant owner welcomes us with all of that baggage. And for the duration of a meal, they sometimes manage to help us forget what’s weighing us down. Last week, at Gallo, I realized just how valuable that role is.
Traveling Exhibition
Jacopo Romagnoli hosted Casa Dolcetta, the nomadic gastronomic salon conceived by Francesco Dolcetta and his wife, Constance Rivière. The room was full and, above all, it was alive. Noise, laughter, tables of friends, magnums of wine. Under soft lighting and with music playing at just the right volume, conversations were in full swing. I glanced at a few tables very briefly, as I was in wonderfully good company myself. Everywhere, people were simply enjoying being there.
In the kitchen, Rome met Milan, without Jacopo taking a back seat to his guests. The menu designed for the occasion bore his signature style—that culinary passion that allowed him to quickly make his mark in Geneva. Hosting and collaborating, while offering something different: here, the whole endeavor felt entirely natural.
The meal began with raw veal, sliced and mixed with Colonnata bacon, served on a rosemary potato focaccia. It was a generous appetizer, where every bite set the tone for the evening. Next came the cod, flaked into small, pearlescent strips, accompanied by a fried zucchini flower. The pairing was surprising at first, but ultimately won me over. Golden, light, and crispy, the zucchini flower contrasted beautifully with the delicacy of the cod.
A story about a woodcock…
With the woodcock crouton and the onion, we shifted gears. Game took center stage—powerful, bold, yet always delicious. The truffles served as a side didn’t seem necessary to me: the crouton already had plenty to say on its own. Yet it was one of the dinner’s most memorable moments.
I had to choose. The Roman-style fried artichoke was tempting, as were the peas, a bit of pancetta, and the warm salad of poached calamari. The sharing options made the decision even harder: wild fish topped with a shellfish sauce, beef ribs… As for me, this Roman-style evening called for a veal cutlet with cured ham and sage—which turned out to be a marvel—as well as a tomato-spiced mashed potato, as unexpected as it was delicious.
A restaurant that’s alive
Images come flooding back to me, and the plates seem to jostle one another. Yet it’s the dining room that I remember most vividly—those exchanges, those smiles, that way of spreading joy from the kitchen to the tables. A full restaurant is a restaurant that’s alive; but you still have to know how to give it a soul. At Gallo, that soul was palpable. And judging by the faces around me, I think many of us left with a little of that joy in our hearts.
