HUGO ARNOLDgladly adopts the Italian way of life amid the stunning scenery and divine cuisine of the region famously described by Yeats as a 'thin line of broken mother-of-pearl'
GIUSEPPE Cattabriga has been making pesto for as long as he can remember. His instructions are both vague and emphatic: basil, a little garlic, pine nuts and extra- virgin olive oil with Parmesan. He insists on basil tops, but nothing too fibrous, as he wants the end result to be smooth, silky. In contrast to the nutty trofiette pasta we sit to eat beside the water’s edge in downtown Portofino. The result is indeed creamy, but more of that later.
The Ligurian coast is a playground for the rich and famous. An hour earlier, I had cruised in on what I thought was a pretty swish rib past the houses of Dolce Gabbana, Silvio Berlusconi and the eye- wateringly priced Hotel Splendido, only to find the tiny harbour that is Portofino sporting several millionaire yachts and highly polished motor launches. I felt quite insignificant, my rib suddenly little more than a punt.
We had made a crooked line for Bar Mariuccia in the main square, taking detours into the fabulously expensive likes of Louis Vuitton (who buys an embossed trunk for more than €4,000 when you are already on holiday?). It may sound expensive for a bellini but this one, for €30, came in a bucket-sized glass, the Veuve Clicquot used in place of prosecco poured Guinness-like as a white froth on top of the peach juice. I sank into mine and nibbled on rakishly-cut carrots dipped in Marie Rose sauce (yuk), rather moreish crisps and delicious olives and chunks of salt- encrusted young Parmesan, the latter a perfect foil for our massive drinks.
THE PASSAGATAin Italy is an ingrained part of the culture and it doesn't get better than in Portofino. Well-dressed and bronzed Italians shimmied by for yet another perfect evening as we headed to restaurant O Magazin, Giuseppe and Emila's smart minimalist restaurant on the edge of the harbour.
We started, as is common in the region, with cured anchovies, octopus, prawns (more mayo, unfortunately) and some pickled halibut. The pasta course was nutty trofiette, a sort of extended narrow twist of a pasta, with the smooth pesto let down with the water used to cook the pasta. This starch- laden liquid is a crucial stage in bringing the dish together, Giuseppe told me, giving it balance.
The smoothness became creamy and soon the plate was a mere smear of vivid green. A massive whole roasted bream was our main course, served simply with olive-oil infused potatoes and black olives. Completely divine.
The Ligurian coast is steep, tree and rocky outcropped as it plunges down to the Mediterranean. Houses slice into the hillsides until you get down to the water where everything is crammed in around the various roads that snake along the coast. This is noisy, full-on but classy coastal life, your poise as important as your perm. Portofino may be the most famous but down the coast there is Rapallo, Zoagli, Chiavari, Lavagna, and Sestri Levante, all of them merging into one long strip.
Instead, we headed north the next day, where the steep cliffs prevent any sign of habitation until you come to the charming delights of road-starved San Fruttuoso. The village, wrapped around a tiny cove, is accessible only by boat, the rocky beach not even 100m wide. The whole bay is dominated by the 10th-century monastery where you can stay for a modest fee (and pretty basic accommodation).
We stopped for a lunch of grilled sea bream and very chilled Vermontino at Da Giorgio before being shipped out on a small boat to view Il Cristo degli Abissi. This is a submerged bronze statue of Christ sunk 17m down, placed there in 1954 in memory of Dario Gonzatti, who is said to be the first Italian to use scuba gear.
This is the coastline famously described by Yeats as a “thin line of broken mother-of-pearl”, and as we settled back for our rib ride back to Camogli it is easy to see why.
I’ve always found coastal life a bit of a struggle – too many Irish beach holidays where facilities can be scant and every eventuality has to be catered for. Here all is catered for in a season that spans April through to September, when all you need – indeed all you really can consider being seen in – is a white shirt and white linen trousers or skirt.
Camogli nestles round a tiny harbour but hotels and guest houses cling to the vertigenous hillsides. What it lacks in glamour – head round to Portofino for that if you must – it more than makes up for in charm and reality. Boats ply the coast from here, and as we watched the sun set in one of the many harbour-side bars, it was hard not to feel totally at ease.
Granted we had swum from one of the many flat-sided rocks that protect the harbour in partnership with sunbathers and lovers happily soaking up the soft evening sunshine, but we had also managed to adopt a little of the Ligurian way. A certain relaxed satisfaction in knowing that you are indulging in one of the most beautiful of Italian coasts, and somehow you think you know something most of the world does not.
GENOA, THEcentre of the region, is just round the corner a little further north. This is an industrial town, sea port and tourist heaven all in one.
Commerce exists at every turn but there are endless architectural delights, narrow streets to wander down and informal restaurants and cafes where you can enjoy simple Italian food at prices that would have the residents of nearby Tuscany choking on their Chianti.
Still, it was not for this trip. We were far to into coastal life and had a rib and driver – sorry, skipper – eager to take us south to yet more beaches, more plunging hillsides. Mother of pearl indeed. Yeats was spot on as usual.
* Levanto tourist information, tel: 00-39-01-8780-8125; Ligurian region tourism promotion office, tel: 00-39-01-0530-821, turismoinliguria.it.
Liguria where to . . .
Stay
Excelsior Palace Hotel, Via San Michele di Pagana 8, Rapallo, 00-39-01-8523-0666, excelsiorpalace.thi-hotels.com. Perched above the water and the road, the seaside rooms have great views and while the decoration is a little dated, tdirect access to the sea makes up for it, as does breakfast on the veranda. Doubles with breakfast €325 in high season.
Eat
O Magazin,34 Calata Marconi, Portofino, 00-39-01-8526-9178. Minimalist inside but ideally you want to be eating by the water. It's a shame about the utterly ugly millionaire yachts moored on the opposite side of the harbour. How can a nation as stylish as the Italians allow such bling to spoil such a beautiful spot. Still, the little boats nearby are mostly a jumble of joy.
If you wantto be Italian about pesto, then Genoa is the place to eat. You can try it at several different restaurants and then spend you next meal comparing it with your last. At lunchtime, Tonitto's, at Via XX Settembre 188r (upstairs is more relaxing than downstairs). Antica Osteria della Foce, at Via Ruspoli 72-74, is also good.
Go
Genoa isstaging thousands of events this summer. An exhibition of Caravaggios landscapes at Villa del Principe runs until September 26th (Piazza del Principe, 00-39-01-0255-509, dopart.it/genova).
Most of allthere is music. The rhythms of the Mediterranean world will take centre stage all summer at Genoa's old harbour, Porto Antico (portoantico.it), filling it with sounds from Europe and Africa.
There is astrong American flavour, with a guitar festival at Porto Antico paying tribute to Jimi Hendrix (until July 28th).
On September 11th, the Genoese summer culminates with the Notte Bianca, an all-night feast of music.
Get there
Aer Lingus (aerlingus.com) flies from Dublin to Milan. Ryanair (ryanair.com) flies from Dublin and Cork to Milan Bergamo .
Hugo Arnold travelled as a guest of Sacla, producers of pesto and antipasti. The company is soon to introduce a chilled range into Ireland, sacla.co.uk