I Due Sud Restaurant

WHEN A BERGAMOT FRUIT MORPHS INTO A MADELEINE.  DOMENICO‘s OPUS

At dinner time, a sunset through tall French windows reminds everyone that summer is never really over in Lugano.
You are led to your table by Simone. He is in charge.  His welcome exudes a warmth that only a passionate heart can produce.
Plates, cutlery and glasses are fresh and modern. They compliment the déco in a modest way. They will not compete with their content: glorious food.

You are here to enjoy. Your taste buds will have fun. Chef Domenico and his team will make sure of that.

You are waited on by courteous professionals who master the art of remote closeness. Always at the right distance, they provide attentive service with a friendly touch or let their invisible and silent hands bring food and its staples.

Ingredients come from Ticino, from Lugano, from the Southern slopes of the Alps or further down South from Italy, Domenico ’s home country.
Wait. Take a breath. The uniqueness of Domenico ’s  cuisine strikes. It is deceptively simple. How can it taste so good, so special, so … You cannot find the word.  Silence at the table. You are savouring. Blissful. Your vegetarian guest is not left hungry. Several refined options are on the menu.
You may think that the secret lies in an unfathomable combination expertly elaborated by the young maestro. You would be right.
Still, comes to mind: authentic products locally produced and carefully selected. A likely long standing cooperation with local farmers and winegrowers. A meeting of love between two regions: South of Switzerland and South of Italy, Ticino and Calabria, the skills of the audacious son and the family recipes of his grand mother. I Due Sud. The two Souths.

This obsessive quest for quality and authenticity is shared by Simone. A Swiss champion picked up for you the best of the crops. Local wines produced by gifted enthusiasts rightfully dominate his selection. When in Lugano, drink what the Luganese drink. May be not. Your travel begins. Swiss wines allow their Italian and Spanish neighbours to tempt you. Celebrated French “grands crus” illuminate from their fame a few pages of the wine book.
Listen to Simone. He will be your best counsellor. Do not worry. He knows exactly when he would start overjoying you with that extra detail. Remote closeness.

Time flew. Desserts were scrumptious. Coffee is on its way. It arrives together with a rather brutish little glass. How dares it invade this world of refined luxury. Should not it know its place: a wooden table in a rustic farm. Full of a yellowish liquid it emits the scents of bergamots. If you ever had a great aunt living in Nancy, France, if she ever insisted on the very same Christmas gift: a box of bergamot sweets, the world around you will become the fleeting image of a shade. You will find yourself opening the red and golden metal rectangular box under the Christmas tree. You will once again lift the two translucent paper panes and the little orange rectangles will appear. The scent of bergamots. Every one has his Proust madeleine. You may encounter yours at I Due Sud.