Guillaume Pinaut is the Director of Food & Beverage of Palazzo Experimental, the beautifully picturesque hotel overlooking the Zattere promenade and the Giudecca Canal – an ideal meeting point for delicious dishes, cocktails and laid-back, contemporary hospitality. After living in Paris for 12 years, Guillaume arrived in Venice just before the two-year period that would strongly challenge its social and economic fabric, particularly affecting the hospitality industry. In this interview, he tells us about the epiphany that marked the beginning of his connection with the city, the encounters and community that form around the table, and what’s still missing to call his venetian home, home.
INTERVIEW BY VALERIA NECCHIO
PHOTOS BY GUILLAUME PINAUT / PORTRAITS BY VALERIA NECCHIO
Listen to Guillaume’s playlist
V: I realize that I don’t know much about the story of your arrival in Venice. How did it all begin?
G: I had already been working for Experimental in Paris since 2015. In the fourth year, they kick-started other projects – in Menorca, and then in Venice. It was the right time for me to make a change, I wanted to move, so I asked to be sent to Venice. At that time, Venice was a city I didn’t know, meaning I had never been there, despite having visited Italy several times. Of course, I had many images of the city in my mind: books, movies…so, the first impression was immediately one of familiarity. I came to see the project of the new hotel when it was still under construction, in the spring of 2019. As soon as I arrived, I remember having lunch at Locanda Montin, in their beautiful garden. It was March and the city wasn’t crowded yet, it was truly beautiful. I immediately thought, “Yes, this will work.” I moved in July of the same year, on the day of the Redentore celebrations. And from that first encounter with the city onwards, I never had any doubts that I wanted to stay, even after everything that happened in the following months, between the high tide of November and then the pandemic.
V: How were things in that period?
G: It felt strange. It was winter and the city was completely emptied. Then there was a glimmer of hope with the Carnival, even though there was still a somewhat sad atmosphere. And then came the pandemic and the closures, the reopenings, the closures again. And yet I can’t help but think of that period as quite beautiful — it was somewhat moving to see the city living for itself, even though it was evident that it needed much more to sustain itself. But even though I had just arrived in town, I noticed a lot of conviviality, a strong sense of community. I felt like one of the few. Also, thanks to my role in hospitality, I felt part of a group that certainly depends on the city’s flow of visitors, but can also be very supportive of each other.
V: How do you see and experience the world of hospitality in Venice as a “New Venetian”?
G: Venice is clearly one of those cities that started taking for granted and considering it natural to always have a large number of tourists, including big groups and organized tours. We all know that the city will never be able to handle such significant flows. But there is also a segment of people who are traveling as couples or in small groups and who, especially after the pandemic, have changed their way of traveling (perhaps choosing weekdays instead of weekends, and taking three or four trips per month) and are seeking more curated experiences that are connected to the local culture. These are the ones who, even if it’s their first time in Venice and maybe they stay in the city for just two or three days, have the desire to truly get to know it, to feel involved. And these are the types of travelers that the city needs the most and should encourage.
V: Tell me about your background.
G: I studied Political Science and Economics in Paris, and while studying for my master’s degree, I became involved in an association that hosted weekly tastings with wine producers. We would go on trips to visit wineries and even have small tasting competitions — all things that gave me the opportunity to train my palate. However, until then, it was just a passion; I didn’t think I wanted to work in that field. I was more interested in the art world. Then, I happened to land a job in an auction house, specifically in the department that sold collectible wines. And all the while, I had become interested in food and had started dining out more frequently. So, at a time when I wanted to change jobs, I met the brother of a friend of mine who knew the founders of Experimental. I got in touch with them and thought I liked the idea of trying to enter this world. I liked the fact that it could take me far. And it did.
What I like most about my role, aside from the connection with the producers and their ingredients, is the relationship with the guests. The interactions I have with them is a constant source of inspiration. You put yourself out there a lot, and psychologically, I find it very stimulating. I enjoy interpreting their needs at every given moment, understanding that the same person who wants to be spoiled on a Tuesday may want to be left alone on a Wednesday. It’s satisfying when you realize that you have understood them—it’s not always easy, but it’s the most enjoyable part.
V: In terms of food and wine, what kind of stimuli have you found in Venice and what are the things you like the most about the local dining scene?
G: It may seem paradoxical, but Venetian cuisine is not exactly my favorite within the Italian culinary landscape. In general, seafood-based cuisines are not my preference. That being said, I have still become very passionate about the work of the farmers of Sant’Erasmo, the fishermen of the lagoon — all the Venetian agricultural traditions that are part of its identity. I think there are few cities that are as modern and at the same time as rooted in tradition. I think of the young folks fishing for cuttlefish at night like they used to do in the old days. This, too, is the beauty of Venice: there are certain things that seem timeless.
V: You’re so right, Venice truly does have this time-frozen dimension as well as this rural side, which becomes especially noticeable when you explore the satellite islands.
G: Absolutely true. And to go back to your question about the dining scene, well, it has changed a lot in the past ten years. Now there are a good deal of places that are able to highlight the best local ingredients while also removing some culinary clichés. They are reinventing tradition by opening up to other influences and valuing the work of farmers and fishermen in more modern and sustainable ways. It’s a slow movement, but it’s growing. All the restaurants I eat at have this approach, and they are busy, which means that there is a positive response and appreciation from customers. The great thing is that, unlike cities like London and Paris – where you’d have 3-4 new places opening every week, making some noise for a few months, and then being left behind as people move to the next new, shiny thing — in Venice any new restaurant is given the time to establish itself and course-correct. It’s another aspect of a more sustainable approach to dining and hospitality.
V: Tell me about your typical day in Venice, both work and non-work related.
I like to sleep in – I’m definitely not a morning person. So, my workday starts around noon. There isn’t really a typical day, in the sense that I could be on the restaurant floor or involved in organizing an event or meeting with a wine distributor. Sometimes, the service takes up more time, especially when there are customers I know and enjoy stopping to chat with. And maybe this may seem like a waste of time to some, in the sense that I haven’t produced much value from a financial standpoint, but on a human level, so much is created. Fortunately, that’s how it still works in Venice. We have managed to create a genuine base of local customers who come frequently, as well as customers who arrive here through word of mouth, and then a beautiful friendship develops. It becomes much more than just a job; a connection is formed. For example, I can say that one-third of my friends are restaurateurs, another third are customers who have become friends, and the remaining third are people I have been introduced to and with whom I often meet up now.
V: So it’s a job that takes a lot but also gives a lot in return.
G: Yes, and I can tell you that it happens especially in Venice. Here, proportionally speaking, you meet many more people compared to a city like Paris, where people tend to stay in their own neighborhoods, depending on where they work and live. Venice, on the other hand, is very small and people move around. You’ll find locals mixing with travelers, students mingling with people working in the arts – all worlds that wouldn’t usually intersect anythere else, and yet here, they do. You feel you’re in a small village where everyone knows each other despite leading very different lives.
V: What do you do when you’re not working?
G: I often take a walk right after waking up. I live near the Frari and I enjoy walking from there to San Giacomo, where I always find an atmosphere of serenity and simplicity. Otherwise, I stroll along the Zattere to Punta della Dogana – that’s where I really see how the light and the seasons change. Or sometimes I head towards Castello, which is an area of the city where I still get lost, even though I always find my way back eventually.
V: I know you also have a great passion for reading.
G: I do! Right now, I’m reading “Berta Isla” by Marías, a Spanish writer who is considered one of the most important of the last decade – he passed away last September. I find the book very well written. It’s also a spy story, which always fascinates me from a psychological point of view. It has brought me back to reading longer novels, something I’ve struggled with lately.
V: By the way, Marías is the author of this little book called “Venice: An Interior,” which is one of the first books I read about Venice. There’s a passage that struck me, in which it argues that Venice has the perspective of eternity, meaning that it has fundamentally always been this way and perhaps will stay the same for a long time still. When I first arrived here, I had the impression that it was true, that it was the city observing me rather than the other way around.
G: Yes, and many say that the city is in danger, which is true, but it’s also true that it has been in danger for 1,600 years. It has survived everything and will survive much more, much more than other modern cities built from scratch and lacking any flexibility in dealing with the problems they might encounter. Venice is a paradox, and in its absurdity, it is one of the few that can aspire to this state of eternity. The only issue is that if it empties out, it loses a bit of itself.
V: How do you see or imagine it in the near future?
G: I am truly full of hope. There are so many wonderful initiatives, like this Incurabili project, and many groups who care about the city, who want to push it forward, to create and invent. I see many people who have chosen to move to Venice in recent years, after living in big cities, and they find a way of life here that resembles them – creative people who are creating an underlying movement that, even if it can’t represent the whole city, is still bringing enormous benefits and practical solutions that look to its future.
V: This couldn’t be a more perfect conclusion for an incurable person like you! One last thing: what do you miss?
G: My books! They are the most difficult thing to move. When I left Paris, I packed all my books and recreated my bookshelf exactly the same way at my parents’ house. To transport them to Venice would mean I’m staying for good…I feel that moment is not far away.