Winter in the Lagoon: Malvasia Puntinata, Rosa di Gorizia and Octopus
A Venetian winter table and one of Italy’s 19 native Malvasia grape varieties
In the Venetian lagoon, Winter has a precise scent.
Brackish water, wet nets, still winter light.
It is octopus season.
In the colder months, between Chioggia, Pellestrina and the lagoon inlets, the finest specimens are found — firmer, more concentrated, shaped by the slow rhythm of winter tides. In Venice, octopus has never been spectacle. It belongs to the quiet rhythm of domestic cooking — to patience, to time that cannot be hurried.
From this memory comes my dish.
In Venice, octopus is often associated with summer, sliced thin and dressed as an insalata, with celery and small tomatoes, bright and saline, served at room temperature when the air is warm and the lagoon light is high.
But octopus also belongs to winter. In the colder months, it becomes deeper, more structured. Boiled simply — with a stalk of celery in the water — and cut while still warm, it reveals a different character, softer, almost silky, its sweetness more pronounced.
This time, I chose to prepare it slowly, the way winter asks.
I let it simmer gently, without haste, then sliced it while it was still warm, when its texture is at its most tender. I folded it carefully into a salad of Rosa di Gorizia, dressed only with extra virgin olive oil and thin slices of orange.
The result is quietly powerful.
The marine sweetness of the octopus meets the refined bitterness of the radicchio in a dialogue that feels both grounded and luminous. The citrus does not decorate — it lifts, it opens, it gives light.
The Rosa di Gorizia is not just a seasonal garnish. It is a rare winter radicchio grown in the territory of Gorizia, in northeastern Italy, and recognized as a Slow Food Presidium. After harvest, it is forced in darkness and then carefully finished by hand, a process that shapes its compact, layered form — almost like a winter flower unfolding.
Its leaves are crisp yet velvety, its bitterness elegant and restrained. It does not dominate the dish, it gives it structure.
On the plate, marine sweetness meets vegetal bitterness.
The firmness of the radicchio answers the softness of the octopus, while orange brings light — not as decoration, but as breath, as movement across the palate.
To accompany this balance, I chose a Malvasia Puntinata from the Lepini Mountains, produced by Pietrapinta — a wine shaped by limestone soils and inland light, far from the sea yet capable of holding tension and clarity.
Malvasia Puntinata is one of the nineteen distinct Malvasia varieties cultivated in Italy — part of a family that shares a name but not a single identity. In Lazio, it speaks quietly. Its aromas are never excessive, white flowers, a trace of citrus peel, a gentle herbal lift that recalls wild fennel and Mediterranean scrub.
On the palate it is supple yet defined, with a fresh line of acidity that keeps the texture precise. A subtle almond note lingers at the end — not sweet, but dry and clean — echoing the radicchio’s bitterness and giving structure to the octopus’ softness.
Its natural roundness brings balance to the radicchio’s elegant bitterness, while its freshness cuts through the octopus’ gentle sweetness, keeping the pairing luminous and composed.
It does not seek attention. It seeks balance.
Sunday will be March 1st.
Winter is drawing to a close, yet on the table its slower rhythm still lingers.
A lagoon octopus, a border flower, a gentle Malvasia, and time, for a brief moment, slowing once again.
Laura Riolfatto
Wine storyteller & sommelier
🔗 laurariolfatto.com
🍷 Malvasia Pop Up
📖 Table Stories
📍 Venice / Innichen
If you’d like to receive my letters and updates from Malvasia Pop Up, you can subscribe to the newsletter here:
👉 https://www.laurariolfatto.com/newsletter