You’ll find it tucked away in Cannaregio, far from the orchestras of Piazza San Marco and the overpriced spritzes lining the tourist trail. Photographer Marco Annunziata visited Osteria Giorgione da Masa, a place that doesn’t shout. It hums—warmly, gently—like a slow jazz record or the clink of chopsticks in a kitchen far from home.

Masahiro Homma, better known as Masa, once ran a sake bar in Okayama. That alone could’ve been a story. But then he packed his knives and set off—not for Tokyo or Kyoto, but Florence. Why? Gabriel Batistuta. That’s right, the Argentine striker. Football lit the match, but food fed the flame.

Masa learned Italian the way you’re supposed to: awkwardly, at first, and then fluently, through kitchens. He cooked his way up and down the boot, including a stint in Sicily where citrus tastes like sunlight and time moves at half-speed. Eventually, he dropped anchor in Venice—because of course he did. It’s a city built on water and contradictions. So is Masa’s cooking.

At his osteria, wooden beams and wine bottles frame the scene. The menu? Part Venetian bacaro, part Japanese katei ryori, all heart. Cicchetti meets umami. Shrimp crudo and scampi laced with yuzukosho play nice with shabu-shabu mazzancolle and endive. There’s okizuke squid—15 days in soy sauce and sake—sitting next to blue crab kimchi. No one complains.

Masa makes udon from scratch, the kind that would make a nonna in Osaka weep. He calls it “the Japanese pici.” Served warm or cold in mentsuyu broth, it’s topped with katsuobushi, nori, and scallions. There’s eel chirashi, shrimp gyoza, soy-marinated swordfish temaki you roll yourself, and—if you’re lucky—ramen with pork belly so tender it ought to come with a warning.

But save room. Masa’s deconstructed tiramisu is not optional. It arrives like a wink: mascarpone mousse, coffee reduction, crisp ladyfingers, matcha dust. Pair it with seasonal fruit and a neat pour of grappa or shochu. You’ve earned it.

Masa’s food doesn’t try to impress. It just is. Thoughtful. Unpretentious. A conversation between places and memories. Come hungry, leave thoughtful. Venice won’t taste the same again.