Al Matarel in Milan, a review: the pros and cons of a true traditional trattoria
Appreciating Al Matarel, an old-school Milanese trattoria near Corso Garibaldi, is both easy and difficult. Easy because if you're looking for traditional Milanese cuisine, sic et simpliciter—and I mean all of it, the entire repertoire, like a historical archive in a steaming, edible version—you'll find it here.
I'm not talking about revisitations or contemporary interpretations; those fall into another category entirely. But rather, I'm talking about those places that, while adhering to traditional standards, nevertheless strive for elevation, to break away from the strict home-cooked paradigm, and somehow convey the idea that you were right to go out for dinner tonight. Because you can't make the creamy sauce for my traditional, secret risotto at home. Because the deep-fried cutlet, so thick and succulent, made from certified breed beef, isn't found everywhere. Because of that mix of herbs and spices, secret of course, that makes even the usual, simple warm nerve salad unique.
Leaving this baggage of expectations at the door of Matarel, on the very narrow sidewalk of a secluded street connecting Brera with Sempione Park, is a necessity. For better or worse. Because none of this is present at Matarel, where instead one encounters a service kitchen, a museum-like illustration of Milanese gastronomy, a journey that draws on the levers of historical interest in Lombardy cuisine, rather than on unconditional sensory gratification per se.
More than the risotto giallo, I'd come here for the cassoeula, a pork and cabbage stew that's hard to find these days, a bit like finding lasagna in a tavern in Bologna. Matarel's cassoeula is very rustic, hearty, full of chunks of pork rind, sticky, and just the right amount of dense. The risotto is honest, it does what it's supposed to do, it represents Milan, without any pursuit of the perfect balance, the point of memorable creaminess. No fuss about the provenance and quality of the saffron used. It's the archetype of Milanese risotto, without any flashes or surprises. If someone were to say "neither infamy nor praise," I wouldn't know how to respond.
The ossobuco is sumptuous, generous, and the gremolata (the classic condiment of garlic, lemon, and parsley) dissolves into the pool of sauce it sits on. The sauce could have been thicker and more concentrated, but the meat is cooked perfectly, and overall the dish makes quite a statement. The large chunks of meat still precariously attached to the bone, almost immortalized in the eternal moment of being ready to fall off, give the dish a kinetic, moving quality that spurs action and triggers the predatory instinct and the mouthwatering.
The portions are enormous, but this isn't your typical "eat a lot, spend little" place. The price is decent, about average for Milanese trattorias with even a modicum of reputation. The menu, available on-site, is surprisingly much more extensive than the online one and includes all the traditional Lombard dishes. All of them. Homemade tortelloni with stew sauce, nervetti salad, stewed snails, fried frogs, Milanese-style tripe, Rustin Negàa (roasted veal tenderloin), and beef stew.
The cotoletta is also available in a thick version, but the thin version is truly very thin. The meat is barely noticeable, the breading is a bit lackluster, and that cloud of steam laden with the bronzey aromas of toasted bread is missing. The mondeghili are a surprise. In the winter version, they are presented as large cabbage rolls stuffed with minced meat and drizzled with a thick, vibrant tomato sauce. Plus, polenta is served on the side. A hearty dish, perhaps to share, not to be confused with the minimalistic meatballs in the more common version of this dish.
The ambiance is perfectly in keeping with the intentions, history, and style of the place. The bright red ceiling dotted with brightly colored glass chandeliers is the only exception to what otherwise feels like a true blast from the past. A past that's vague and generic, yet capable of instilling a pleasant nostalgia. Here and there, you can glimpse key moments in Lombardy's, and therefore Italy's, history. Looking down from a proclamation from Field Marshal Radetzky to the inhabitants of the Lombardy-Veneto kingdom hanging on the wall, you can pause at the table below and imagine Bettino Craxi working on his cutlet, one of his regular Monday appointments, during the golden years of the First Republic.
Opinion
One of the last truly authentic Milanese restaurants, without inventions, without reinterpretations. Those at Matarel boast about this, and it's true. For better or worse. The menu offers a truly comprehensive selection of Lombard classics, but the results are often rather bland. The ossobuco is good, the cassoeula quite good. The ambience and atmosphere are delightfully frozen in time.
PRO
- The setting and atmosphere are a dive into the past, like a true old trattoria.
- Ossobuco gigantic and very good.
- All Lombard dishes on the menu.
AGAINST
- Most dishes settle at a medium level.
