While patronizing a Spontini Milan, I had no intention of committing larceny, or any other crime for that matter. In fact, theft was the furthest thing from my mind at the time. I was merely attending to my body's gnawing need for triangular sustenance. And while it is true that you're not yourself when you're hangry, I realize that's no justification for my actions. In this case, however, I believe that judicial leniency is warranted.
“I robbed a Spontini's in Milan” is a bad response to “What are you in for?”
My alleged crime began in the cab of a Milanese taxi. As my wife, sister, brother-in-law, and I were all being driven around Milan, our driver spotted a Spontini® restaurant and pointed out that it had fantastic Milan-style pizza. Always happy for a restaurant recommendation, I noted the place in my phone.
The prospect of eating local cuisine excited me, as I had recently eaten my body weight in Napoli-style pizza in Naples Italy. So, the next time hunger presented itself, I suggested that we hit the Spontini location near the Duomo for lunch. And so, we did, walking the entire distance in a few quick minutes.
Spontini® is Milan's most popular pizza chain.
When we arrived at the Duomo Spontini in Milan, around noon, the line of customers was already out the door. However, it seemed to be moving quickly, so we got in line and stuck it out. The length of the line gave us time to sort out how this foreign restaurant worked.
To keep things moving, the restaurant offers no regular seating inside, just long, metal, high-top tables. So, you either ate standing up, or you took your food to-go. We opted for the former, having nowhere else to eat in the vicinity. It was a very un-Italian experience—generally, Italians take their time eating. They don't wolf down food as if they're late to catch a bus.
In 2013, Spontini® was awarded the “Bottega Storica” recognition, acknowledging it as a historical institution.
Sussing out Spontini's Milan-style menu.
A fast-casual restaurant, Spontini predominantly sells pizza by the slice. They offer a variety of pizza types, including Margherita, Salami, Primavera, Vegetable, and the disgusting Spontini 1953 which has both mushrooms AND anchovies—gross.
For convenience, you can get a combo-meal which includes a drink—beer and wine, even!—along with one of four desserts, including Tiramisù, Profiteroles, Crème Brûlée, and Affogato al Caffè (whatever the F that is). The combo meal comes in two sizes, regular and large (“abbondante”).
This is NOT sponsored content (dammit).
Oh, if only it were! Imagine if companies started paying me to write about their products or services? That would be swell. And if you're a company with fat stacks, contact me about sponsorships.
Unfortunately, this post about Spontini is NOT sponsored content. This is just me trying to alleviate my own guilt over having accidentally lifted two of their dessert dishes.
However, if you go to Spontini and mention this blog post, they might give you 5% off a large combo meal. More likely, they will stare at you like a crazy person, disavow any knowledge of the CrosbyReport, and insist that you pay full price. You're welcome!
Ordering was where it all went wrong.
The first question out of the Spontini cashier's mouth was, “Here, or to-go?” I replied, “here,” and ordered the Spicy Salami combo meal, “abbondante” (aka, large) because I was not paying close enough attention.
When you order a small or large combo at a Burger King or other fast food restaurant in the 'States, the question refers to the size of drink and fries. Not at Spontini. At Spontini, the question refers to the size of the pizza slice, which I only found out after I paid.
Milanese-style pizza is already pretty massive.
Milanese-style pizza is similar to focaccia pizza—its dough is super thick, olive oily, and delicious. It's also massive. I watched Spontini Milan employees make a continuous stream of 24″ cheese pizzas as sort of a base product.
After fork-lifting a cheese slice onto their specially designed paper plates, the chef would then pause to catch his breath and add any toppings you requested…you know, on top. They'd then heat it up a bit more, and then hand the slice to you.
They cut the entire 24″ pizza up into, I want to say, three or four of the world's fattest slices. A single slice is enough dough to put you into a starch coma for weeks. In fact, the slices were so huge, Spontini had to create their own oversized paper plates to hold them.
When the Italians say abbondante, they mean “large.”
Slices at Spontini in Milan are already so large that they can't be made any larger. So, when I ordered the “abbondante,” they gave me a slice and a half. That worked out to basically one-third of an entire 24” pizza. My family and I ate maybe half a slice before reaching the human limit of carbohydrates. What's worse, there was no room for our Tiramisù and Crème brûlée!
So I walked to the counter and asked for a box. Reluctantly, the counter guy handed me a box saying, “To go only!” which seemed self-evident. We boxed up our remaining pizza, balanced the two dessert containers on top, and walked back to our hotel. We put the food in our fridge and saved it to eat on our upcoming train ride to Rome.
Aw, crap, we robbed a Spontini Milan pizza place.
About halfway to Rome, we decided to eat the Spontini leftovers from Milan we'd kept in our hotel fridge. Pulling the pizza box and two desserts out of my carry-on bag, I accidentally touched the two dessert containers together for the first time. And heard a disconcerting sound.
Instead of the benign clicking of plastic, the two containers rang out. Though the tops of the containers were indeed petrochemical-based, the bottom sections were glass! And, all at once, it became obvious to everyone: We had walked out of the restaurant with Spontini's branded glassware!
In our defense, we were tricked by context clues.
Even though we ordered our food “for here,” we were given 1.) pizza on a paper plate, 2.) soda in plastic cups, and 3.) all of it on a plastic tray. So there was no reasonable expectation of having been given dessert in a glass dish, your honor.
Also—and I think the case turns on this point—we ordered one Tiramisù and one Crème Brûlée, but got two Profiteroles instead. So, clearly…case dismissed, amiright?
To make things right, however, I will happily ship the two dishes back to Spontini Milan—at my own expense, of course—if that's what it takes to get me off Interpol's most-wanted list. Just let me know.
