“If it’s in Panzano, it’s also in Casoria.”
This is the punchline that explains everything. But let’s proceed in order.
Let’s start with the where: a small side street not far from the Circumvallazione Esterna of Naples, just north of Capodichino Airport, in the municipality of Casoria. A place where, before reading this article, you had no reason to go. A place where, if you are in Campania, you’ll want to go after reading this article — because there is no place like it.
The who: Aminto from Panzano — or, more accurately, from Casoria — a name that sounds like a mystic from the High Middle Ages, someone the late Umberto Eco would have had a field day with. A man who has enjoyed a thirty-year friendship with Dario Cecchini, who, according to a well-known New York Times article, is the Monarch of Panzano in Chianti. And if Dario is the King, then Aminto is his Ambassador in a land — Naples and its deeper province — that is light-years away from the Tuscan culinary traditions that Dario Cecchini so fully embodies.
The what: it’s not a restaurant, but an experience. Let’s be clear: you can stop by for a quick and tasty lunch, or you can book for dinner and sit at communal tables, just like at the Officina della Bistecca in Panzano. In fact, their website describes the Neapolitan Embassy of the Antica Macelleria Cecchini as a restaurant specializing in grilled dishes. But that definition is reductive, imprecise, and unhelpful in understanding what this place truly is.
I know the word experience is overused these days, but in this case, it’s as close to the truth as one can get — provided we add the adjective exotic. Strictly speaking, exotic means something that comes from another region or country, that is imported; more broadly, it refers to anything outside our shared imagination, to things we’re not used to seeing, hearing, or smelling. For example, to a Florentine used to medieval alleyways, 15th-century palaces, and the scent of lampredotto, a U.S. metropolis with steel-and-glass skyscrapers, six-lane roads, and the smell of hot dog carts is exotic. And vice versa.
In that sense, Aminto’s Embassy is exotic: it offers food and a way of being at the table that doesn’t belong to Neapolitan culture. While the concept and practice of conviviality certainly unite Tuscany and Campania, the way each expresses it is markedly different. At Aminto’s, you’re surrounded by books, vintage prints, vinyl records, posters, and — of course — all the products from the Antica Macelleria Cecchini of Panzano, available for purchase. You chat with the person next to you, you ask questions — but above all, you listen to Aminto’s stories. Those alone are worth the trip to Casoria.
At Aminto’s, above all, you eat almost exactly as in Panzano in Chianti. The meat is the same, treated with the same care, prepared with the same recipes: Burro del Chianti, Tonno del Chianti, wild boar liver pâté, Sushi del Chianti, the no-condiment-needed hamburger, and of course, His Majesty the Fiorentina. And I say almost only because — thank God — there’s one key difference: the bread. In Casoria, the bread is good because it’s salted.
The wines are also all from Chianti, except for the sparkling ones. Among them, Le Viti di Livio from the Fattoria di Lamole is a perfect companion to the steak that Aminto served us after proudly showing off his custom-built barbecue.
While the presence of Dario Cecchini is felt everywhere at the Embassy of Panzano, the unmistakably Neapolitan contribution of Aminto must not be overlooked. His touch is evident not only in the venue’s aesthetics, in the selection of books and records, but above all in the catalog of liquors and spirits, all handpicked by him — like a divine 1966 Armagnac or a Croatian Pelinkovac, perfect for those of us who still remember going to Yugoslavia for cheaper gas. But perhaps one image says more than a thousand words, perfectly capturing the cultural blend of Tuscan and Neapolitan spirit you breathe at Aminto’s:
There is no place like this in all of Campania. Literally. I, like Aminto, divide my time between Campania and Chianti, and I felt at home. My fellow diners, on the other hand, were clearly and delightfully surprised — because never before, in that corner of the world (in many ways grimy and unglamorous), had they had such a pleasurable experience — for body and soul.
At Aminto’s, unless you live nearby and want a proper, quick lunch, dinner is by reservation only. But don’t get the wrong idea: it’s not about exclusivity — quite the opposite. Aminto is committed to maintaining an atmosphere of conviviality and connection among guests, and to giving each one his full attention, along with that of his staff. That’s why reservation is logistically necessary. So, if you’re thinking of going to Aminto’s just to have a good steak and spend some money, don’t bother. Go only if you want to feel good for an evening, be pampered, forget your troubles, tell or hear a story, and share it with the people you care about.
