retiredmartin

June 2024. Milan.

Day 3 of the micronation tickathon. From Milan we’d head to Rimini on the coast, and then to Mrs RM’s 41st and penultimate euro tick in San Marino.

But first, let’s admire the central station for an hour, having given the Duomo and epic cemetery a miss.

It’s a gem of a station,

but if you have an hour before your train in Milan, I reckon you must spend it at Mercato Centrale (translate it yourself), which is the Mackie Mayor of Milan.

A sumptuous place; somehow we resisted the cakes (more due to a complex queueing system than anything),

and instead had the Chinese dumplings, which seemed the thing to do in Italy in the absence of Crispy Shredded Beef.

The table service craft menu sounded interesting, albeit Moretti-heavy;

Much too early for beer, I thought, wandering the food court at 10:30.

But then I noticed the hand pump.

Backdoor ? Is that the one from Walsall (no). 10 years ago I’d spent an evening wandering the emerging craft beer bars of north Milan and seen a lone Bombardier pump.

The beer list offered little clue.

But it mattered little, as there was no sign of life, and a little sign on the bar read “Open at 11“.

But I wasn’t giving up, even with our (expensive) train leaving at 11:30; I left Mrs RM finishing those dumplings, and at 11:03 this chap was pouring a pint of CAMRA-approved real ale from down the road.

Our hero had been a barman in a Colchester GBG craft bar, and certainly knew how to take care over the pouring of a pint.

It was 11:11 before I got to sample a cool, rich, bitter (Marble-ish) pint (NBSS 3.5), lacings never lie.

by which time Mrs RM had phoned to shout “Where are you !!!”.