First, an apology. For all of those who travelled from near and far for our Merano summer party last Saturday, I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to put in an appearance. If you give me a moment, I’ll explain my absence. Also, if you’re a lover of cats or find them devious, self-centred and just plain wrong, you might want to look away now.

Our story starts early last week in Lisbon. Mom and I are visiting a friend at her apartment for drinks and a catch-up on some work and social matters. The main reception room is an eclectic mix of modernism and crafts, the space is warm and welcoming and the Portuguese bubbly is perfect for a Tuesday afternoon. A couple of our host’s colleagues will join us a bit later, so for the moment it’s just the three of us and three animals – a dog and two cats. They shall remain nameless. The dog is small and curious and well behaved. One of the cats is busy grooming its crotch and the other is on my lap and looking for attention. I’m having none of it. “He’s the one in charge,” announces our host. “He kind of keeps everyone in check.” There is hair all over my navy shorts and now the cat is digging its nails into the seersucker as it tries to get comfortable. This carries on for about 15 more seconds until he realises that he’s not going to get anywhere and that a glass of Portuguese effervescence might end up in his eyes. Off he goes. 

Mom and host are talking about ceramic lamp bases and shades and there’s a question about whether we should stay inside for drinks or venture out. “It’s so lovely here,” I say, “why don’t we just stay in?” Our host agrees and refills the glasses. This is a cue for the cat to go and jump on mom’s lap and start his routine. “He likes to visit everyone,” says the host. “But sometimes he can be a little bit naughty and scratch or bite.”

My mom smiles and I can read the speech bubble above her head. “And you allow this little beast to take centre stage in social settings?” She reaches for her glass but then jolts backwards. “Did he bite you?” I ask. “Mmmm,” my mother replies, pressing her hand. “Are you bleeding?” My mom nods and the cat is scolded in Portuguese by our host (as if that’s going to change its behaviour) and then she’s off to get some alcohol and a bandage.

We carry on talking for a bit but we have a 05.55 flight to Zürich in the morning and I can tell that my mom is uncomfortable and wants to go. We say our goodbyes, jump in a cab and head home. On the way, I inspect mom’s hand. It’s a little bit swollen and she says that it’s throbbing. Back at the apartment, I make an ice pack and have mom settle down on the sofa. We’re up and at ‘em around 04.30 (yes, we live very close to the airport) and somewhere over France I notice that mom’s hand and wrist is becoming more swollen. We touch down in Zürich and I drop a note to Dr Stucki, our family GP.
 
Headline: Mom bitten by cat
Body copy: Dear Dr Stucki, I hope all is well and your summer is shaping up nicely. We just touched down from Lisbon. Mom was bitten by a friend’s cat yesterday. It’s become quite swollen. Thoughts?
 
Within about 15 minutes Dr Stucki has written back and suggests a visit as soon as possible. We drop our things at home and head to her practice in town. By now the hand is starting to look puffy. Dr Stucki takes one look, her eyes wide, and says that she’ll do a blood test, administer a tetanus shot and go hard on antibiotics. “Cat bites, the worst,” she says. “Let’s keep an eye on it and let me know if it changes or gets worse.”

The following morning, I’m up early for a flight to Berlin and take a peek at mom’s hand before heading for the train. It’s considerably worse. In fact, mom’s forearm looks like a mortadella. Photos are taken and sent to the doctor and by the time I land in Berlin mom has been taken to emergency and there’s considerable concern about how rapidly the arm has become infected. I finish my business in Berlin, have a long talk with the doctor and head to the airport. He says that if the antibiotics don’t kick in then they will need to open up the arm and clean it out. He says that he’s concerned about an infection to the tendons. By 21.00 I’m back in Zürich and going straight to the hospital. Mom is in good spirits and watching CNN. I return the following morning to find the bags packed and mom ready to go. “Where do you think you’re going?” I ask. “The doctor is going to come by and tell me that it’s all fine. Then we can go to Merano,” she says. “Ummmmmm, we’ll see about that,” I say, looking at her hand and puffy forearm.

A couple of hours later, the doctors give mom a semi “all clear” but she’ll need to stay on the antibiotic drip for another evening and can leave the next day. I return Saturday morning and consider, ever so briefly, doing the five-hour drive to Merano but mom needs to rest, so I move into nurse mode and we end up having a cosy Saturday evening at home.

One week on and I’m happy to report that mom has recovered, though her right (painting) hand is still a little tender. But she’s back swimming in the lake and back in front of her canvases. The moral of this story is very clear. Cats are generally bad news, not to be trusted and will never be celebrated in the pages of Monocle – this I can promise.

Fancy a friend in Lisbon that doesn’t bite? Our charming City Guide is just the ticket.

Japanese chef-entrepreneur Yoji Tokuyoshi, best known for Milan’s lauded Ristorante Tokuyoshi, has drawn on Japanese, French and Italian influences for his new opening, Mogo (writes Rossella Frigerio). The space is a collaboration with business partner Alice Yamada and was designed by Giorgia Longoni Studio.

Centred around a 360-degree counter, the bar serves imaginative cocktails such as the liquorice and ginger-based “Dark Funk”. The interiors feature a nature-inspired palette of terracotta and aquamarine. Elements of steel, velvet and washi paper elevate the ambience, which shifts from bright and airy by day to warm and intimate by night. 

With the atmosphere of a jazz kissa café, including the listening bar’s custom-designed DJ booth, this is a distinctly sensory experience – and that’s before you try the mini wagyu burgers with tonkatsu sauce and duck breast cooked in dashi. 
mogomilano.com

Planning a trip to Italy’s fashion capital? Monocle’s spruced-up Milan City Guide is available to read on monocle.com.

Irish chef Andrew Walsh is the founder of Cure Concepts, a collection of distinctive dining outposts in Singapore (writes Rory Jones). After culinary forays in Australia and New York, Walsh found success in Southeast Asia by bringing the barbecue to the fore. He’s looking to continue his hot streak at Kee’s in the 21 Carpenter hotel. Here he discusses his love of Jay-Z, his summer trip to the Greek islands and how he honours Ireland from the other side of the globe.

Where will we find you this weekend? 
Enjoying a hearty brunch at Kee’s in 21 Carpenter, where I oversee the menu. Then I’ll catch up with a fellow chef who is visiting from overseas. 
 
Ideal start to a Sunday? Gentle or a jolt? 
Slowly and with intention, usually via a flat white from Atlas Coffeehouse. Then I find a quiet spot to meditate and go on a 10 to 15km run before heading off to The Ice Bath Club.

What does your summer wardrobe consist of? 
I’m a very simple guy: classic chinos paired with a white or black T-shirt from Massimo Dutti or Uniqlo, white Hugo Boss trainers and my favourite Tom Ford sunglasses.
 
What’s for breakfast? 
Avocado toast topped with poached eggs, paired with a protein shake of blended banana and chocolate – and more coffee.
 
A Sunday soundtrack? 
Old-school hip-hop. Jay-Z, Snoop Dogg – that era is always a go-to.
 
What’s on the menu? 
My visiting friend says that he’s been craving Singapore chilli crab. Otherwise, it’s a classic Sunday roast with all the trimmings and a pint of Guinness – a little nod to the great home, Ireland. 
 
Where are you choosing to spend your summer holidays? 
I’ll be visiting my family in Ireland as I don’t get to see them often. This August, I’ll also be spending a week cooking and unwinding at the One&Only Kéa Island resort in Greece.

“I remove the garlic and peperoncino [hot chili peppers] after baking because they have already infused the oil and bread with flavour,” says Swiss chef Ralph Schelling, of his Tuscan panzanella-style salad. For a bolder taste, leave them in the salad or blend them into the dressing. “Oh, and never put your tomatoes in the fridge.”

Serves 4 as a starter, side or light meal

Ingredients
1 red onion
2 cloves of garlic
300g farmhouse bread (preferably a day old)
1 peperoncino (chilli), diced
150ml olive oil
600g mixed tomatoes
Salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
A pinch of powdered sugar
1-2 tbsps white balsamic vinegar or lemon juice
½ bunch of basil
4 small balls of burrata

Method

1.
Preheat the oven to 170C. Peel the red onion and slice it finely. Crush the garlic cloves. Cut or break the bread into large pieces and mix with the red onion, garlic, peperoncino and half of the olive oil.

2.
Once combined, spread the mixture on a baking tray and toast in the oven for about 20 minutes or until the bread is crispy. Remove the garlic and peperoncino, then place the tray back into the switched-off oven to keep the bread warm.

3.
Purée a third of the tomatoes with salt, pepper, powdered sugar and white balsamic vinegar. Blend with the remaining olive oil until smooth.

4.
Cut the rest of the tomatoes into bite-sized pieces and combine them with the toasted bread and tomato dressing. Adjust the seasoning as desired.

5.
Serve with fresh basil, burrata, additional salt, pepper and a drizzle of olive oil.
ralphschelling.com

Think of Saint-Tropez and you’ll probably picture the party hot spots along Pampelonne Beach (writes Annick Weber). But to the west of southern France’s quintessential summer destination lies what many call the soul of the town: the Plage de la Bouillabaisse.

Once known as Saint-Tropez’s plage de la mode – fashionable beach – this private stretch of sand was a favourite stamping ground of the 1960s jet set, with the likes of Jane Fonda and nouvelle-vague filmmaker François Traffaut holidaying on its white sands. Ludovic Moutet runs the laid-back, century-old club that gave the beach its name. “La Bouillabaisse brings together the people of Saint-Tropez, who return every year to their table, parasol and sunlounger,” he says. “We’re far from the DJ sets and champagne-fuelled celebrations found elsewhere.” This summer, La Bouillabaisse reopens with a refreshed look. Marseille- and Paris-based agency Mews dreamed up a nostalgia-tinged décor, complete with pastel-blue-and-white-striped parasols, a seashell-inspired bar by artist duo Bella Hunt & DDC and custom-designed tropézienne director’s deckchairs.

The menu has been reimagined too, with Parisian chef Julien Sebbag serving up sunny specialities from across the Med. The self-taught chef is best known for the vegetarian Créatures on the rooftop of Paris’s Galeries Lafayette and the omelette-filled challah at Micho, his first-arrondissement sandwich spot. Here, however, his vegetable-focused menu also offers seafood classics such as fried sardines and grilled sole meunière. 
labouillabaisseplage.fr

For more beachside reading and sunny dispatches from the Mediterranean, pick up a copy of our ‘Monocle Mediterraneo’ newspaper.