One of the great pleasures of living in Florence is the food. One thing I’ve observed is that the Italians eat and drink with gusto, and no wonder. Their meats, their pastas, their vegetables, their desserts, and their wines are wonderfully delicious. But they almost literally inhale their food and gulp their wine. I’ll give an example in a minute.
But first I must begin by telling you about the place I had dinner last night. I decided to forego the “best panna cotta in Florence” and, instead, had dinner at a small five-table osteria, Vini e Vecchi Sapori, which is directly across Via dei Magazzini from my apartment. Chip and I had actually discovered this place while doing some online research. We learned that the owner was an old curmudgeon and it was impossible to get a table, but that the food was wonderful. I can say, based on my experience last night, that only the latter is true. I arrived right when the restaurant opened at 7:30 p.m. (yes, restaurants open much later for dinner than in the states). Because I was so early, I got a table, right by the window, immediately. It also might have helped that on my way out, I met one of my neighbors, Giulia, who lives two floors below me. She walked into the restaurant with me, where she clearly knows the owner and staff (which actually consisted of one guy) well. By the way, Giulia spent some time in San Francisco recently and loves it, just as I love her city of Florence.
Anyway, the owner, who is also the chef, didn’t say anything to me the entire time, perhaps because he doesn’t speak English, but he smiled in my direction a few times. I had pappardelle sulla coniglio (thick pasta noodles with a rabbit sauce). It was fantastic!
When I was about halfway through my pasta, an Italian couple arrived and sat at the table next to me. They began their meal with thick slices of some type of cured meat. In the meantime, I finished my pasta and ordered dolce (dessert), a decadent white cake with a thick chocolate layer on top. My cake arrived as soon as their primo course, a pasta dish, arrived. In seconds it was gone. Shortly after they were served their secondi, a meat dish. That too disappeared in a flash, well before I had finished my cake. I was stunned by the speed at which they ate. No relishing, no relaxing –just a mission to accomplish. But, still, they seemed to be enjoying their meal, actually immensely.
The sign of a good restaurant, to me, is one frequented by locals. And this osteria definitely was; I was the only foreigner in the room, and the only one who didn’t know the owner personally. That’s why I must admit that one thing surprised me about this restaurant: the music. During my entire meal, what played in the background but bad ‘70s music, most of it disco. They also threw in a few songs by bands like America, 10cc, and Al Stewart. Who even listened to that music in the ‘70s, much less now? (All right, I’ll admit that Chip and I had to dance to Al Stewart’s “Year of the Cat” during the ballroom dance segment of PE in the ninth grade, but that was against our will.)
Music aside, the meal was fabulous, and I’ll definitely be back. And it takes me all of one minute to get there!
But first I must begin by telling you about the place I had dinner last night. I decided to forego the “best panna cotta in Florence” and, instead, had dinner at a small five-table osteria, Vini e Vecchi Sapori, which is directly across Via dei Magazzini from my apartment. Chip and I had actually discovered this place while doing some online research. We learned that the owner was an old curmudgeon and it was impossible to get a table, but that the food was wonderful. I can say, based on my experience last night, that only the latter is true. I arrived right when the restaurant opened at 7:30 p.m. (yes, restaurants open much later for dinner than in the states). Because I was so early, I got a table, right by the window, immediately. It also might have helped that on my way out, I met one of my neighbors, Giulia, who lives two floors below me. She walked into the restaurant with me, where she clearly knows the owner and staff (which actually consisted of one guy) well. By the way, Giulia spent some time in San Francisco recently and loves it, just as I love her city of Florence.
Anyway, the owner, who is also the chef, didn’t say anything to me the entire time, perhaps because he doesn’t speak English, but he smiled in my direction a few times. I had pappardelle sulla coniglio (thick pasta noodles with a rabbit sauce). It was fantastic!
When I was about halfway through my pasta, an Italian couple arrived and sat at the table next to me. They began their meal with thick slices of some type of cured meat. In the meantime, I finished my pasta and ordered dolce (dessert), a decadent white cake with a thick chocolate layer on top. My cake arrived as soon as their primo course, a pasta dish, arrived. In seconds it was gone. Shortly after they were served their secondi, a meat dish. That too disappeared in a flash, well before I had finished my cake. I was stunned by the speed at which they ate. No relishing, no relaxing –just a mission to accomplish. But, still, they seemed to be enjoying their meal, actually immensely.
The sign of a good restaurant, to me, is one frequented by locals. And this osteria definitely was; I was the only foreigner in the room, and the only one who didn’t know the owner personally. That’s why I must admit that one thing surprised me about this restaurant: the music. During my entire meal, what played in the background but bad ‘70s music, most of it disco. They also threw in a few songs by bands like America, 10cc, and Al Stewart. Who even listened to that music in the ‘70s, much less now? (All right, I’ll admit that Chip and I had to dance to Al Stewart’s “Year of the Cat” during the ballroom dance segment of PE in the ninth grade, but that was against our will.)
Music aside, the meal was fabulous, and I’ll definitely be back. And it takes me all of one minute to get there!
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