During the annual film festival, Venice becomes a city in costume. Beyond the Lido, these are the tables and bars where the festival’s theatre truly flourishes.
Harry's Bar Cipriani
The Bellini was invented here in 1948, and it remains both the city’s most imitated and inimitable drink. The wood-paneled dining room, a capsule of twentieth-century glamour, has hosted Hemmingway, Capote and Clooney in turn. Its magic lies not in the celebrity, but in the way it confers a touch of that same glamour upon anyone who walks through the door.
L’Barcaro de Bischeri
Venice is unthinkable without cicchetti, and L’Bacaro de’ Bishceri offers the ritual at its most pure form. A stone’s throw from the Rialto Bridge, the counters are crowded, glasses endlessly filled and refilled, and plates of baccalà, anchovies, and fried zucchini flowers passing from hand to hand. It is pure Venetian magic, chaotic and convivial, and decidedly local. A must visit
Da Ivo
If Harry’s is Venice at its most public, Da Ivo is the opposite. Hidden near the Ponte dell’Accademia, it is reached most theatrically by gondola. The dining room is compact and conspiratorial, the tables set so close they feel like stage sets. With divine food and wonderful service, Da Ivo is truly a gem, but the real drama lies in the atmosphere – a performance staged not by the kitchen, but by the diners themselves.
Ristorante Al Covo
Family run since 1987, Al Covo has become a Venetian institution precisely because it resists becoming one. Seasonal dishes are anchored in the lagoon: risotto with fish, soft-shell crab, vegetables from Sant’Erasmo, all served with love. Its the kind of room where time slows, and where Venice reveals itself not as a theatrical spectacle, but as home.
Il Mercante
Venice does spritzes; Il Mercante does cocktails. Tucked beside Campo San Paolo, it is discreet, low-lit, and serious about its craft. The kind of bar where you settle in after midnight and forget you ever meant to leave.
Caffè Florian
Its doors opened in 1720 and have not shut since, Florian remains the city’s grandest pause. Gilded mirror, Carrera marble tables and a string quartet in Piazza San Marco transforms a simple Espresso into performance. It is, of course, a cliché, but like the festival itself, it endures because the theater never fades.
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