presents
When mistakes become legendary
EEvery mistake is memorable. It’s impossible to forget how far we have gone by taking the wrong way. After all, a mistake provides an experience of its own: it allows us to explore new possibilities, to create something new. In fact, only by making mistakes do we progress, discover, and learn. Certain mistakes, then, have extraordinary consequences like what happened to me that day. I had arrived there by mistake, following the directions of a stranger, while wandering through a city I was not familiar with in search of a place to spend some time. Around the corner, instead of a café, I found a museum.
When the disappointment gave in, the extravagant sign caught my attention: in large letters, with a distinctly bold typeface, glossy black, on a bright blue background that faded to orange-red, here stood a line of curious writing:
(from Latin “Making mistakes is divine”), with an equally peculiar remark underneath: time celebrates legendary mistakes. I knew that there were collections of all kinds, some really original, and that museums were places to admire them, but I had never visited one before.
So I went in.
In the centre of the first hall – immense, white, with lacquered walls – on a large pedestal in a perfect imperial style stood a gigantic two-tiered cake, completely covered with fondant icing. The characteristic handmade melted chocolate writing made me immediately think of Sacher, the rich Austrian cake, and it seemed to me that I could almost hear the echo of a waltz. Then I noticed the words engraved on the surface:
A mistake? How could the world’s best chocolate cake be considered a mistake? Intrigued, I began to read the story, scrolling down the screen on the tablet below the installation. The Sachertorte, I learned, was born out of a mistake, yes, but it was a case of a “mistaken” person, an apprentice who replaced an expert pastry chef. And it didn’t turn out too badly in the end. Prince von Metternich commissioned the official court cook to create a special dessert for his guests. The cook suddenly fell ill, and so the task passed to his young assistant Franz Sacher, who particularly loved chocolate and decided to use it for his recipe. The rest is history.
Still amazed by how famous that mistake turned out to be, I continued to walk down the hall and was overwhelmed by a chill. Looking over to the next hall, I saw an infinite series of differently flavoured ice lollies hanging on all the walls and from the ceiling. The temperature was freezing.
What would I have found out there? A small workshop had been set up in a corner: there was a maxi glass, a wooden stick and a bottle of soda. When I got closer, a voice message began to give me instructions:
I did so immediately, and the surprising result was a handmade ice lolly; as soon as I poured it, the liquid froze instantly. Just as it happened to a young American boy on a cold winter night. He left a container outside full of water and soda and a wooden stick he was using to mix them for fun, and, the next morning, he discovered a block of ice. So he picked it up and began to lick it with pleasure, inadvertently creating the first popsicle in history. What a world-class mistake, I thought.
What else could I expect from that place? Certainly not crisps. Instead, a museum guide gave me a bag as I headed upstairs. A gift, I thought, but the packet actually read
Tasting them, I thought “But no, you’re perfect.” They were super thin, crunchy, delicious. But on the back of the packet, their story was waiting for me: they were born by mistake too or, better yet, by a mischievous mistake. A chef at Moon Lake Lodge in New York, reacted badly to a customer’s complaints about his French fries. “Too thick,” he said. Annoyed by the criticism, he cut them as thin as possible and put them to fry, hoping to disgust the guest with his “fried tissue paper.” But it didn’t go the way he was expecting. Everyone adored them, and we still do to this day. Some mistakes really make you happy.
Who would have thought? When I climbed the stairs, a bar was waiting for me. Did the surprises ever end in that place? It was not just any bar: full of charming people, with a sophisticated aura, it looked as if it had come out of the past but, at the same time, could have been in one of the trendiest city streets.
I didn’t even have the time to get to the counter when the bartender came to ask what drink I wanted to try. “I’d like the right one,” I replied. Smiling at me, he said:
while elegantly pouring Campari, red vermouth and prosecco into a tumbler glass full of ice and garnishing it with a slice of orange. He kindly pointed out: “Negroni Sbagliato: Campari, red vermouth and prosecco.” I immediately understood that it was another memorable mistake, and that this drink even boasted its own flaw in the name: this time we were in Milan, at the Bar Basso – someone there told me right after – where the bartender, while preparing a classic Negroni, picked up prosecco instead of gin, thus creating a perfect mistake. At least, legend has it.
Still pleasantly amazed by that drink that featured a perfect balance between bitter and sweet, I headed for the exit. It was time to leave again. In that implausible place, I had experienced something truly unexpected: the beauty of making mistakes.