If Henry VIII th or Falstaff accompanied my femme and i into this osteria, its name I Malardot ( dialect for"misplaced"), would not seem out of place.
Its high up on a hill and really quite out of the way but it is the definitive osteria in my reckoning. The atmosphere is casual while the furnishings resemble another time but the food does not disappoint.
Coursely sliced porchetta, salame and mortadella arrive on wax paper to go with your wine. Noodles follow, made from wheat and chickpea flours and gnocchi with sausage and peas. My femme adored her tortelloni filled with chickpea and fresh tomato sauce.
All the pastas floating to other tables looked good, but for me, it was the corateline con carciofi, delicate sweetbreads, heart and lung served with lightly fried artichokes. My favourite dessert is pere ubriacle, with a rich sticky finish. The food here is not formal but delicious and genuine with wines the equal of the food. Bravo. More