The Venice Food Workshop with Mimi Thorisson

Throughout my years of traveling and consulting I’ve ventured out on food tours and taken culinary and baking classes all over the world. I’m a connoisseur of prominent and emerging faces in the industry, many who have launched into the social media stratosphere. Count on me to know who’s who; I’ve likely trained with them or have their book, maybe even a signed copy. Chefs and bakerpreneurs are my heroes. While I can opt to learn virtually, there’s no substitute for the face-to-face, hands-on experience. My collection of cookbooks, class notebooks, and the food-related souvenirs is an impressive testament of my ongoing commitment to continuous learning.

When it’s worth hopping on a plane to have a premier culinary experience, that’s what I do. Most recently, it was to attend a workshop with Mimi Thorisson.

Discovering Mimi

When I started my bakery a decade ago, one of my regular customers, Rodger, was visiting from Scotland and asked, “Do you follow Mimi Thorisson?” I replied, “No, I never heard of her.” After recommending that I look at her work and follow her, I was right on it. Mimi is a food writer, traveler, and lifestyle guru. She effortlessly exudes a natural glamour while making a stunning array of Italian or French cuisine look effortless. Her husband, Oddur, is a world-class photographer and the complementary nature of the work they both do makes them a dream team for capturing the beauty of food, family, and travel. It’s thrilling to spectate all the stunning places, people, and food they share.

Reading Mimi’s history, it’s no mystery how all the pieces fit together that now garner a list of books, workshops, partnerships, and steadfast following. From an outsiders perspective it’s seemingly a fairytale, but she’ll tell you she’s just a mom that loves to cook. What? Yes, that was what she said during this recent workshop. It struck me hard. With all the blessings of a magical life, Mimi is humble, unassuming, and hungry to share her knowledge. She’s my kind of people.

As we walked to the Rialto market she told me she doesn’t drive. She walks everywhere, to the stores, to take her kids to school—doesn’t matter. A car accident earlier in life gifted her the desire to always walk and not drive. Mimi is soft-spoken, kind, and approachable. At the farewell dinner, we all got up to talk about what our time together meant to us.

Mimi sheepishly looked at us and announced that she’s always nervous about the workshops and that she just likes to cook and share her love of food. When she went on to confess feeling like she has imposter syndrome, well, I nearly fell off my dining room chair. How is this possible? Getting to know her at the workshop taught me several lessons not only about food, but also about life, and how I think about myself and my business. Even a few frustrating moments ironically gifted profound lessons.

A Workshop in Venice

Venice is a very special place for me and one I’ve returned to many times. When I saw Mimi post that she was hosting a small, intimate three-day workshop in Venice I immediately wired funds to secure a spot. Not only would I get to cook side by side with Mimi, but also, I would enjoy experiencing how someone else teaches.

There’s a simplicity to her cooking that completely aligns with how I’ve always cooked. There’s a calmness and joy that radiates from her when she’s in the kitchen; it was another relatable trait—the only difference is that Mimi can cook a meal in a dress, heels, and clean apron, while I’m more the disheveled type. I am the living Swedish Chef muppet when you watch me in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure some of my chief instructors would cringe, but I do have what I call “kitchen creep”… but I digress.

I signed up seven months before the workshop and eagerly awaited more information like an agenda as the date grew near. We didn’t hear much more information and finally at the designated hotel the receptionist told us to meet in the lobby at 8 am the following day. I was somewhat taken aback by the lack of pre-workshop communication, basing my reaction on comparable culinary journeys. I was going on blind faith and tend to falter with anything that has an unstructured nature. As an always-needing-to-know-what-to-expect Type-A, this preamble was out of my comfort zone. I was anxious not knowing the details—and therein lies my first unexpected lesson: structure is overrated.

There’s a joie de vivre in just living in the moment. Less planning, more spontaneity, and to hell with being a control freak. This year has been a lesson in letting go and the universe has strange ways of showing up. By going with he flow and experiencing the culture without fuss, I was gently reminded to manage my own expectations and rein in my inner boss lady. There was a silent joy that was sneakily starting to make me feel more relaxed, so hard scheduled be damned.

Arriving at Hotel Flora, which has been run by the Romanelli family for generations you feel like you’ve come home. By the time you leave you feel like you want to hug every person that works there. They are warm and gracious and make you feel like you’re part of their family.

Upon meeting the other guests in the lobby the first morning, there was a similar buzz about the absence of communication or itinerary. I was eager to see how the next three days were going to unfold with what seemed like eau de winging it. Soon my curiosity was satiated and another lesson observed: a different approach doesn’t mean it’s the wrong approach. I could not fathom hosting a class without a strictly outlined plan with handouts and the like; maybe that’s decades of teaching at a university speaking. Surprisingly, there is a gift in not having an outline or handouts.

Originally advertised as a small and intimate group of about more or less than 10 to 12 people, our group was 25 guests. We all clicked and had a cohesive connection, but this was larger than expected and different than anticipated. My typical culinary class experience has been capped at 14. While initially irritated, there was another new lesson: a larger number made the gatherings feel like being part of a large family. Curated in the stunning grandeur of an Italian Palazzo setting, smelling the meals wafting from the kitchen as we all helped prepare several dishes, it was like celebrating Thanksgiving in a fairytale.

There is no substitute for cooking and enjoying meals together. We bounced around to chat with different folks, partaking in cocktails and delicious food. When we sat down along what seemed like a 30-foot dining room table that you’d see in a king’s palace, donned with candelabras, flowers, and beautiful linens and place settings, it was magical and comforting.

Highlights from a Venetian adventure

As excursions and events unfolded, we were treated to many rich experiences:

Sitting outside Bar All’Arco partaking in Cichetti, traditional Venetian tapas made of real delicacies of the local cuisine;

Dining at Venissa, a Michelin-star restaurant, situated in a small walled vineyard dating back to the Middle Ages on the small island of Mazzorbo;

Shopping at Mercator di Rialto for fresh flowers and produce and Mercado del Pesci for all the local fresh seafood, where Mimi joked that one vendor is known as the Don Draper of the market—he’s definitely Jon Hamm’s doppelganger;

Stopping in many other local shops like Cibo to buy cheese, breads, and more;

Pit stop at a local family bakery for pastries, where I found my beloved sfogliatini (see my blog post about this pastry);

An afternoon making lunch in Mimi’s apartment, Casa Flora, where I was excited to learn about little gem packages for your soup bowl—and I fell in love with fava beans once I tasted the fava bean soup she made;

Making Moeche, very small soft-shell crabs that are a seasonal delicacy in Venice, only available in the spring and fall when they are shedding their old shells and are in a soft, tender state;

Tasting mostarda for the first time, a heavenly fruit-based mustard that adds a touch of sweet and savory to meats, cheeses, and desserts;

Making fresh pasta together, something I’ve done more times than I can count an something I teach frequently, and yet there was more to learn and joy in helping others in the group as they were doing it for the first time. Mimi made one of the most memorable lasagnas I’ve had in my life using the renowned radicchio from Treviso that was sautéed with shallots and could serve as a meat substitute. Layering noodles with radicchio, béchamel, parmesan, and taleggio cheese resulted in a lasagna for the ages. I will not soon forget how this dish tasted. Drape the lasagna noodles so they come up over the top of the pan to create a crispy edge? A new favorite tip;

Making Torta della nonna, which I’ve made before, but the pine nuts on top? Perfection;

Let’s talk about the palazzo. There are places that you walk into that you can never get out of your mind. The feeling, the energy that a place evokes is as sensory as the food we taste. Owned by their friends, the palazzo was everything you’d imagine it could or should be from the high-beamed ceilings to the masses of marble and grandeur all around. It was surreal to arrive there after shopping in the markets;

We also gained another level of inspiration by how we handled all our market purchases. At home. we essentially buy everything in one supermarket, come home, and put things in the fridge. In Venice, living like a local, as we did during the workshop, meant shopping in many places to gather the bounty and coming home to display all of it.

We teamed up and started filling vases with masses of flowers, and then staged the fruits, vegetables, and bread on a buffet table. We eat with our eyes first, and the tablescape was a feast. This is how Mimi lives at home—displaying everything for her kids to pick from for a snack and for her to look to this 3-D harvest for inspiration to cook a meal. The display was like reaching into a still-life painting that kept gifting meals. Try it sometime.

Manifesting results

Mimi is accessible and eager to share her knowledge and passion for food. At our last night soiree back at the palazzo, I arrived early to help Mimi prep. She arrived later than she initially planned, but she was not frazzled and came over to the couch to relax and we began chatting.

I asked, “How did you get your deal with Anthropologie?”

“I manifested it,” she replied in a simple, matter-of-fact tone.

I was stunned. Manifestation is my ritual. Hearing her say it brought validation and affirmation that it’s real.

She continued casually, “I create relationships and things happen. They approached me about designing a line of tableware and it was always something I wanted to do. Relationships foster collaborations.”

My thought balloon contained a silent “Holy Shit!”

Designed exclusively for Anthropologie, her Italian Hours collection was a limited venture and Mimi explained she was not in it to make a fortune. She loves design and she did it. Check.

Toward the end of the trip, I told Mimi about the book I’ve been writing and showed her a picture of the book jacket we designed (you know, to manifest its completion). She was excited for me and supportive, offering to introduce me to her literary agent in New York. This conversation was yet again a reminder that everything really is about relationships and connections.

Parallels and passion

At the farewell dinner, Mimi candidly explained that she gets nervous talking in front of groups of people and described herself as something like “just a housewife that likes to cook and enjoys having people over for dinner and hosting parties.” The more she did it, it took off and became her career.

She was visibly flattered and honored to have all of us at her table. As Mimi shared her story with us, you could almost feel that she was transported to her childhood in the moment she was speaking of how her dad greatly influenced her love of food and travel. He used to take her to many places for small bites so they could taste different things instead of going to one restaurant for one big meal. Her family consisted of excellent cooks who shared recipes and wisdom. She went on to study business and languages and became a food writer in Paris. Eventually she met her Icelandic husband, Oddur, a gifted photographer. Together they would travel and dine, putting together blog posts and travel stories using her words and his photos. She and her husband work as a team. Oddur is at ease and entertains the crowd while she commands attention in the kitchen; they both share the gift of being natural hosts that enjoy entertaining. The food was abundant and the drinks were flowing.

The whole experience struck a chord within me. I realized my story isn’t so different. I love sharing food and hosting company and the bakery is my outlet to let people into my home each and every day. Chefs are nurturers. We are caretakers. We are givers. As I let go of my rigid expectations and allowed myself to be in the moment, I found enjoyment in the idea of not planning every moment of my life with constant structure.

Thank you, Mimi, for the gift of inspiration in perpetuity and instilling me with a new mindset—along with some wonderful recipes. The workshop was, for a moment in time, a period of living like a local and attending fete après fete. To inhale the small of rain falling in the canals while sipping my new favorite cocktail, a Select Spritz, at a local bar, it’s all fodder for what makes life rich and beautiful. Select, the Venetian aperitif, can be described as in between the sweetness of Aperol and bitterness of Campari. It’s my new favorite and you can try a Venetian Spritz at the bakery. As I browse hundreds of photos from my trip, it’s testimony to another memorable food journey that will be continuously woven into my cooking and baking repertoire.

Your friend,
Amie