Portofino: Gluten Less, Travel More
Portofino, Italy might just be the pinnacle of postcard-perfect destinations, where every turn reveals a scene straight out of a classic Italian film. The mountains draped in foliage, dotted with elegant villas, lead down to a tiny cove that cradles the town. The buildings, painted in a vibrant palette, add a splash of color against the deep greens and blues of the landscape. And if you glance up the mountain, you’ll see history perched above, with the church of San Giorgio and Castello Brown standing sentinel over the harbor.
We ambitiously set off on the Passeggiata dei Baci (Passageway of the Kiss), a romantic-sounding path that leads to Santa Margherita Ligure, a few miles down the Ligurian coast. But the summer heat had other plans, and before long, we found ourselves retreating back to town, casting envious glances at those splashing in the Mediterranean’s inviting, crystal-clear waters below.
Portofino has been a magnet for the jet set since the 1960s, and the evidence is everywhere—from the high-end designer shops to the opulent yachts that line the harbor. Our friends discovered that Madonna was in town, attending a party at the Dolce & Gabbana house. I can only assume my invitation was lost in the mail.
We stopped in the main plaza for a snack, where our friend declared the spaghetti to be top-notch. I, on the other hand, kept my meal minimal, partly because the menu was a linguistic puzzle I wasn’t keen on solving, and partly because I didn’t want to embark on a gluten-free translation quest. Portofino didn’t seem to have any GF restaurants according to https://www.findmeglutenfree.com. Perhaps we should have taken that walk to Santa Margherita Ligure, which seems to have a better GF selection.
However, no worries—we later stumbled upon La Critta American Bar on the other side of the harbor, a stunning spot that quickly became our refuge.
La Critta is half on a floating platform and half on land, with cushioned seats that, as we later learned, come with a charge—apparently to discourage leisurely lingerers who make a single coffee last all day.
Our friends ordered drinks that looked like art installations, adorned with mysterious fruits, while I savored a refreshing Nicoise salad. My husband, always one for culinary adventure, had a lasagna that defied the American standard: thin layers of pasta, no cheese, and a rich brown sauce that was nothing short of exquisite. Despite the heat, it was one of those magical moments where everything aligns perfectly, and you find yourself just… content.
The rich really do know how to pick their spots, and Portofino is no exception. I’d love to return, though I suspect my wallet might protest. But that magical moment? It just might be priceless enough to last a lifetime.
