LUNCHEON
NO. 6
AW 2018-19
LATTERIA SAN MARCO
by Josefine Skomars
The façade of the Milanese trattoria is anonymous, with a plain round awning and drawn curtains. But when you enter Arturo and Maria Maggi’s dining room, an abundance of colours and a confusion of roses in all forms – souvenirs of half a century – greet you. The restaurant’s interior might have faded over its 53 years in Via San Marco, but its popularity has not. Before the official lunch service begins, the eight tables are already occupied by a mix of guests as eclectic as the decor.
Crammed together, regulars enjoy domestic Italian dishes and a moment away from the modern world on the other side of the frosted glass door. Word about this unpretentious yet close to mythic restaurant has spread from friend to friend. Among the guests there’s a sense of community, all in on the same not-so-carefully-kept secret.
The magical world of the Maggis is made up not of modernities like card machines and social media, but of simple food with soul, vegetables grown under the open sky, cooked with common sense and silverware. Arturo, silver pan in hand, commands the stove. Maria, in a black dress and set of pearls, guides you through the menu and the ways of her Latteria. She instructs you to mix your spaghetti well, and if she finds it necessary she’ll help. The Maggis invite you to their kitchen, and you follow their rules.
Photographs by Lars Brønseth
by Josefine Skomars
The façade of the Milanese trattoria is anonymous, with a plain round awning and drawn curtains. But when you enter Arturo and Maria Maggi’s dining room, an abundance of colours and a confusion of roses in all forms – souvenirs of half a century – greet you. The restaurant’s interior might have faded over its 53 years in Via San Marco, but its popularity has not. Before the official lunch service begins, the eight tables are already occupied by a mix of guests as eclectic as the decor.
Crammed together, regulars enjoy domestic Italian dishes and a moment away from the modern world on the other side of the frosted glass door. Word about this unpretentious yet close to mythic restaurant has spread from friend to friend. Among the guests there’s a sense of community, all in on the same not-so-carefully-kept secret.
The magical world of the Maggis is made up not of modernities like card machines and social media, but of simple food with soul, vegetables grown under the open sky, cooked with common sense and silverware. Arturo, silver pan in hand, commands the stove. Maria, in a black dress and set of pearls, guides you through the menu and the ways of her Latteria. She instructs you to mix your spaghetti well, and if she finds it necessary she’ll help. The Maggis invite you to their kitchen, and you follow their rules.
Photographs by Lars Brønseth