Insolita is the kind of place I would send someone to when they want to eat near Ponte Vecchio without feeling trapped in the usual Ponte Vecchio dinner. The location is as central as it gets, but once you sit down the restaurant feels more personal than the neighborhood around it. It has a warm room, a serious bar, and a menu that gives you something to talk about without making the whole evening feel like homework.

I started with a cocktail at the counter, and I got two surprising bites with it: the weirdest taco I have ever seen and a piece of octopus which was NOT an octopus. Then came the food, and this is when it all started to make sense. “Ceci n’est pas une tomate” is the dish I would tell people to order first. It looks like a tomato, which is the whole point, but the pleasure is not just in being surprised. It is fun to look at, good to eat, and smart enough to make you pay attention without becoming precious. The Insolita carbonara works in the same way. You recognize the idea immediately, then the dish takes it somewhere else. I liked that it still felt generous and satisfying, not just clever. That is what I appreciated most about the meal.

Insolita has a concept, clearly, but it does not make you sit through it. The dishes arrive, you react, you taste, you keep eating. The staff help when help is useful, but they do not overexplain everything. There is enough surprise to make dinner memorable, and enough comfort to make you want to come back. It is also a good place for different kinds of evenings. I would go for a proper dinner, but I would also come back just for aperitivo at the bar, especially with someone visiting Florence who thinks they already know what restaurants in the center
are going to be like.

WHY IT MATTERS: Insolita is in one of the most tourist-heavy parts of Florence, but it does not behave like a tourist restaurant. It is thoughtful, warm, slightly strange in the best way, and it keeps the fun of the concept without making dinner feel rigid.

PERSONAL TIP: Go for aperitivo, stay for dinner, and order at least one dish that makes you wonder what you are looking at.

A San Frediano pizzeria where Neapolitan dough meets seafood tapas and a generous shared-table rhythm. Zanfa Bros sits on Via Pisana, in San Frediano, and it feels exactly like the kind of place that could only come from people who have spent years working inside restaurants rather than simply thinking about them. It is lively, informal, fast when it needs to be, and generous in a way that makes the table fill up before you have fully understood how much you ordered. Behind it are the brothers Gianfranco and Marco Zanfardino, two different hands
and two different sensibilities working inside the same project.

Pizza is the heart of the place, and Gianfranco’s work is all about method. Nothing feels improvised, even when the combinations are creative. The dough is direct, carefully calibrated, and built around consistency rather than fashion. There is no attempt to impress through heaviness or excess. The pizza arrives light, fragrant, elastic, and precise, with a structure that holds the toppings without losing that immediate pleasure a Neapolitan pizza should have. What makes Zanfa Bros interesting is that tradition is not treated as a limit. Gianfranco knows the rules of Neapolitan pizza well enough to play with them. The toppings can be seasonal, playful, even unexpected, but they rarely feel decorative. They are built around balance: acidity, fat, sweetness, salt, crunch, softness. The menu moves between the classic
Neapolitan line and the Croccantissima, one of the signatures of the house, with a thinner, drier, more decisive bite. Pizzas such as Connubio, Zucca, Scarole scarole scarole, and Sinfonia di pomodoro show the range of the project: Campanian roots, careful dough work, and toppings that feel current without losing the pizza underneath.

But Zanfa Bros is not only pizza. Marco’s kitchen gives the place its second voice, especially through tapas and small seafood dishes designed for sharing. These are not little decorative plates to keep you busy before the pizza arrives. They are abundant, immediate, and full of personality, the kind of food that makes the whole meal feel more open and convivial. The seafood side of the menu has become one of the restaurant’s strengths, adding freshness and variety without pulling the place away from its southern identity.

The format keeps evolving. Lunch now has its own rhythm, with a Smart Lunch from Tuesday to Friday built around speed, freshness, and quality. One dish changes every day, especially on the seafood side, which keeps the offer from feeling fixed or automatic. Then there is VenerBì, the Friday beer formula that has quickly become part of the restaurant’s weekly identity: informal, easy, and exactly right for the mood of the place.

WHY IT MATTERS: Zanfa Bros is one of the most technically interesting and versatile pizzerias in Florence. It brings together serious dough work, inventive toppings, seafood tapas, a flexible menu, and a clear sense of direction. It is innovative without losing its roots, generous without becoming chaotic, and varied enough to work for a quick lunch, a pizza night, or a longer dinner with friends.

PERSONAL TIP: Start with Marco’s tapas, which are always more abundant than you expect, but save room for Gianfranco’s pizzas. Among them, Connubio is essential: a pizza that shows exactly why Zanfa Bros works so well.

Manly The Office sits on busy Via Pisana, far enough from the postcard center that San Frediano starts to feel like a neighborhood again. The café was opened in 2023 by Maykol Martino and Alice Risani, two Florentine baristas whose time in Manly, Australia, changed the way they thought about coffee, breakfast, and what a neighborhood café could be.

The space is tiny, just a handful of seats inside and a few tables outside, but it has the warm, relaxed energy of somewhere designed with real affection. A large image of Manly recalls the Australian beach town where Maykol and Alice lived, worked, and turned their friendship into both a relationship and a shared project. The colors are warm, the mood is informal, and the whole place still feels like a Florentine neighborhood bar.

Coffee is the heart of the offer. Manly works with Florentine micro-roastery D612, using a house espresso blend called L’Australiano, made with Brazilian and Ethiopian beans. It is balanced and aromatic, with notes of hazelnut, dark chocolate, and red berries, and it works beautifully in espresso, cappuccino, flat white, and the kind of milk-based drinks that are still not always easy to find done properly in Florence. There are also filter options, cold brew, matcha, chai, golden latte, iced coffee, and plenty of plant-based milk choices.

Food runs from Italian-style breakfast to full Australian-inspired brunch. In the morning there are croissants and coffee; later, the menu shifts toward avocado toast, salmon bagels, chicken wraps, roast beef sandwiches, yogurt bowls, granola, pancakes, banana bread, cheesecake, carrot cake, and other homemade sweets. The kitchen is small, but the menu feels generous and flexible, with vegan and gluten-free options also available. Later in the day, Manly moves naturally into aperitivo, with wine, spritzes, classic cocktails, craft beer, nachos with guacamole, and cicchetti.

WHY IT MATTERS: Manly The Office does not feel like an imitation of Australia; it feels like something Maykol and Alice brought back with them, adapted to San Frediano, and made genuinely their own. It is small, personal, and unusually convincing.

PERSONAL TIP: Come in the late morning, when you can move slowly from coffee into brunch. Order a flat white or cappuccino, then go for the avocado toast, a salmon bagel, or whatever homemade cake is on the counter. If you are nearby later in the day, come back for aperitivo: it is the kind of place that changes rhythm without losing its warmth.

A Spanish whisper in the Renaissance city

From 15 May, guests will find a line-up of six pintxos curated by Italo-Argentinian chef Paulo Airaudo. The dishes draw inspiration from Airaudo’s San Sebastián restaurant Ibai, which earned its first Michelin star this year, while weaving in Italian produce and sensibility.

Served exclusively in the Lounge between 4 p.m. and 7 p.m., the pintxos form an informal, convivial counterpoint to Luca’s, Airaudo’s fine-dining restaurant inside La Gemma. “Pintxos are about spontaneity, food you can enjoy standing, chatting, laughing,” says the chef. “We keep the essence of San Sebastián but speak Italian in the details.”

Six small masterpieces

The inaugural selection showcases the hotel’s commitment to prime ingredients and essential technique:

• Artichoke tempura | citrus mayo, Colonnata lardo
• Oyster tempura | pico de gallo, oyster emulsion
• Calf sweetbread | black garlic, parsnip espuma
• Chickpea hummus | chive oil, raw seasonal vegetables
• Pan tomate | toasted bread, grated tomato, jamón ibérico de bellota
• Insaladilla | Basque-style Russian salad with bonito belly

Each bite is designed to be eaten in two or three joyous mouthfuls, ideally paired with a glass of Spanish cava or a Tuscan vermouth spritz.

A tribute to conviviality

Luca’s was conceived as an homage to the late entrepreneur Luca Cecchi, remembered for his passion for food and the pleasure of gathering around a table. Airaudo shares that vision: “Whether in Florence, Barcelona or Hong Kong, my cuisine revolves around excellence of raw materials, clarity of flavour and the happiness of eating together.”

La Gemma’s new pintxos offering fits seamlessly into that philosophy, reinforcing the hotel’s identity as an international meeting point where tradition and innovation converse with ease. It also expands Airaudo’s growing gastronomic constellation, which already includes two-Michelin-starred Amelia in San Sebastián, one-star Aleia in Barcelona and two-star Noi in Hong Kong.

The latest accolades came from top-tier European competitions, where Bitter Amaranto once again captivated expert juries. At the Frankfurt International Trophy in Germany, the liqueur earned its 14th “Grand Gold Medal,” sharing the honor with Elettrico’s citrus-forward Mandarinara. Meanwhile, at the prestigious World Liqueur Awards in London, the newly launched Amarangela claimed the top spot, followed closely by Bitter Amaranto, which took silver.

The true triumph came at the London Tasting Awards, where both Bitter Amaranto and the Elettrico family’s London dry gin, Ginerator, were awarded gold—marking the 15th gold medal for the ruby-hued bitter, named after the deep amaranth red symbolic of Livorno itself.

“We’re overjoyed,” said the father-son distilling duo, Fabio and Piercristian Elettrico. “These victories prove that our commitment to craftsmanship is being recognized year after year. It’s a testament to the lasting quality of our work and to the fact that true artisanal production can resonate globally.”

While Bitter Amaranto is gaining increasing recognition among connoisseurs, it remains one of Italy’s hidden gems – an artisanal spirit that blends tradition, character, and complexity. The Elettrico legacy, with roots in Calabria but firmly planted in Livorno, is now emblematic of Italian excellence in the world of spirits.

This year alone, Elettrico Distillery has already taken home six medals – five gold and one silver – across just three major European competitions. Such momentum further elevates the Bitter Amaranto as a standout in the international spirits scene, celebrated for its deep botanical profile and handcrafted quality.

But awards aren’t the only focus for the Elettricos. Back home in Livorno, the family recently launched Elektro Fusion, a hybrid space that combines a cocktail bar featuring signature drinks with a flagship boutique offering the full range of their liqueurs and distillates. The lineup includes not only bitters, but also vermouths, brandies, grappa, and inventive infusions like saffron sambuca and licorice liqueur—each made using time-honored methods and natural ingredients.

“Educating people about mindful drinking is our mission,” they affirm. Their efforts have already earned them a spot in Identità Golose, Italy’s leading gastronomic guide.

“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.

“With import tariffs,” he says, “the cost of existing products will skyrocket. We won’t be able to meet demand and will have to turn to other markets.”

For Gambardella, this isn’t just theory—it’s dinner service. His menu is built around meats imported from the United States, the kind of cuts and quality that simply aren’t available locally. Whiskers Smokehouse offers a cuisine that blends American techniques with Italian sensitivity, adapting cuts like Boston Butt and St. Louis Ribs to Italian butchery practices, combining bold smoke with local nuance.

Originally from Ercolano, Gambardella doesn’t come from a culinary academy. His is a personal, winding journey—one of obsessive self-education, relentless experimentation, and a deep belief that cooking is science. He entered the food world in 2010, almost by accident, with no prior experience. His love for barbecue was sparked through books, online courses by barbecue masters like Gianfranco Lo Cascio, and trips to the U.S. where he immersed himself in authentic smokehouse culture.

“The kitchen is physics,” Gambardella explains. “You can’t just follow dogmas or recipes passed down. You need to understand what’s actually happening to food when you apply heat.”

After years of trial and error, he opened Whiskers Smokehouse in Caserta. The concept was clear: a smokehouse of moderate size, inspired by American cooking but filtered through a very personal lens. Even the name, “Whiskers,” evokes both the world of fire and smoke and the barbershop aesthetic he draws on for the space’s identity – a nod to his taste for vintage, characterful branding. The result is a venue that’s entirely unique, with a visual and gastronomic language of its own.

The heart of Whiskers is fire. Smoke. Time. Every civilization, he says, has relied on fire, smoke, or stone to preserve and cook food – and his menu is a homage to that universality. One of his most acclaimed dishes is a smoked cooked ham that takes over 20 days to cure, followed by hours of slow cooking. There’s also beef marrow roasted in the bone over coals, and a porchetta spiced with local herbs. Italian sausage gets the smokehouse treatment too, made from pigs raised nearby. Gambardella personally handles the selection and preparation of ingredients, consuming around seventeen whole pigs each week – an impressive number, especially considering his obsession with avoiding waste. Trimmings become sauces, slow-cooked meats are reimagined for the following day’s dishes. His operation is as efficient as it is flavorful.

Still, some recipes call for very specific ingredients. For those, Gambardella looks to the U.S. market, sourcing cuts like Black Angus brisket, which he smokes with oak, pecan, and whiskey barrel wood before serving it with coleslaw and honey mustard. These choices, however, are becoming increasingly difficult. Tariffs threaten to drive up costs, and with the UK no longer a viable source post-Brexit, he’s occasionally turned to Australian imports. But the meat from Australia presents its own set of challenges – limited availability, inconsistent quality, and high fat content that complicates the cooking process. The risk of shrinkage during preparation is significant, forcing Gambardella to plan purchases months in advance. He often places orders as early as March to ensure stock through November, navigating seasonal availabilities and fluctuating quantities with meticulous precision.

The consequences aren’t just logistical or financial, they’re also communicative. When the meat changes, so does the dish. Explaining those changes to customers without damaging their trust is a delicate balancing act. “Quality is everything,” he says. “But when you’re not working with your usual ingredients, you have to guide customers through the differences. You have to educate them, gently.”

And educating is something Gambardella does well. But it wasn’t always like this. When Whiskers first opened in Caserta, people didn’t know what to make of it. “The initial reception was awful,” he admits. “People expected burgers and basic sandwiches. I wanted to give them something else: slow cooks, complex smokes, intense flavors.”

That something else was worth the struggle. Gambardella’s smokehouse now runs like a well-oiled machine, but behind every plate is an enormous amount of work. Cooking times can stretch to 18 hours, which means planning, dedication, and serious endurance. Everything is prepared in advance; nothing is rushed. The results are tender, layered, and rich in depth. Every Kentucky-style rib glazed in barbecue sauce, every portion of roasted potatoes is the result of planning and persistence.

Looking ahead, Gambardella is preparing to scale. He’s opening a production lab in Caserta to streamline workflows and reduce cooking times. More ambitiously, he’s also planning a new location in Naples by fall 2025 – a bold move that shows just how confident he is in the Whiskers identity.

Part of that identity has been shaped online. Unlike many food influencers who shout their way through TikTok with greasy “food porn” antics, Gambardella takes a quieter, more thoughtful approach. His content is informative, educational, and calm, never boring, but never loud. “I don’t care about being a public figure,” he says. “My goal is to promote barbecue culture.”

His tone may be measured, but he doesn’t mince words when it comes to Italian meat. “Italian scottona is bland,” he argues. “Native breeds are disappearing. The quality’s dropping.” He prefers American Black Angus, which he believes has better marbling, richer flavor, and more consistency.

With his production lab in motion and a new Naples venture on the way, Giampiero Gambardella is poised to become a defining name in Italy’s growing barbecue scene. But for him, it’s not about trends or virality.

“Barbecue,” he says, “is more than just a fad. It’s an art form. One that takes time, devotion, and respect for the raw ingredient.”

One evening, I found myself at Al Merca’, a tiny bacaro tucked into the corner of a bustling square by the canal. Its charm lies in its simplicity: no frills, just a window where locals gather for drinks and snacks. The cicchetti here are straightforward: slices of bread topped with cured meats or spreads, and their famous polpette—meatballs made from tuna, eggplant, or beef. The prices were almost too good to be true: €4 for a spritz or wine and €2 for cicchetti or polpette. 

I ordered a spritz and a few cicchetti to start. The drink was refreshing, easily worth twice the price. The food? Well, let’s just say it didn’t steal the show. A few slices of prosciutto on uninspired bread didn’t exactly excite my palate—it felt like something hastily thrown together for kids after soccer practice. The polpette were better but still unremarkable. Yet somehow, none of this mattered. What made Al Merca’ special wasn’t the food: it was the atmosphere. Locals leaned against the walls, laughing and chatting as they shared drinks and bites. It wasn’t about culinary perfection; it was about connection.

A short walk away, I stumbled upon Osteria Bancogiro—a more contemporary take on the traditional bacaro experience. Unlike Al Merca’, Bancogiro offers both window service and a sit-down restaurant inside. Here, cicchetti took on a new life: seafood-forward creations with spreads of squid ink, fresh fish, and hearty meats piled generously onto open-faced bread slices. At €2 apiece, these felt like a steal—not just in quantity but in quality. The squid cicchetti stood out with its rich sauce and fresh flavors that lingered long after each bite.

The vibe at Bancogiro was electric—a younger crowd filled the space, laughing and chatting with bartenders who seemed to know everyone by name. It felt less like dining and more like joining an impromptu party where strangers became friends over spritzes and cicchetti. As I watched people greet each other with hugs and songs, I couldn’t help but feel swept up in their joy.

That night in Venice wasn’t about food—it was about belonging. The square where these two bacari sit came alive as locals spilled out into the streets, their laughter echoing through the canals. As a foreigner, I expected to feel like an outsider; instead, I was welcomed with open arms and an arm around my shoulder as someone asked me what I thought of their city.

Cicchetti may not be gourmet masterpieces, but they’re so much more than just snacks—they’re an invitation to experience Venice as Venetians do: sharing food, drinks, and stories under the stars.

Carmelo Bene – the greatest Italian actor ever – used to claim that femininity has nothing to do with women. In the care Francesco Martucci shows to his diners, there is a feminine, almost maternal, quality to his gestures. He comes to our table just as we are about to taste the second pizza, introduces himself elegantly, welcomes us, and then, in a fraction of a second, notices my father sitting to my right. Speaking in dialect, as though they’ve known each other forever, he asks: “Do you remember the roasted artichokes?”

If I had been Francesco Martucci’s communication consultant, I would have suggested naming the section of the I Masanielli website dedicated to his story and achievements “Martuccilandia” instead of “Martucciland.” He argues, not without reason, that “being a citizen of the world means expressing yourself in the most spoken language.” However, I believe “Martuccilandia” would better convey the idea of a land, a kingdom, even a universe, of which Francesco is the immovable gravitational center. A land seemingly bordered only by the dozens of awards accumulated since 2018, too many to list.

But Martuccilandia admits no boundaries: like the universe, it is constantly expanding.

“In January, we will renovate the dining room because I’m thinking of doing an even better job than we do today. In our mindset, there is always room for improvement. It might sound like a cliché, but at Masanielli, it’s true. Today, we are more mature than ever, fully aware of how to intervene in the key aspects of hospitality and dining.

Masanielli is cutting-edge. Masanielli is rediscovering farmers’ recipes. Masanielli is like the 1960s in music: that’s our concept. Improving, studying, thinking about the sustainability of work with the impact of life. There is so much to do: we will start with renovating the dining room, and there will also be a tasting room, to make Caserta even more famous worldwide.”

Yes, Caserta. A periphery of the empire, from being the Bourbon’s summer residence to a middle-class dormitory of Naples and its province, more likely to appear in grim headlines than on lists of excellence. Yet some heroes – more than one, in truth – still walk its dark streets, bringing bursts of intense light where politics and institutions fail. Art and talent step in. Casertan artists, by birth or adoption, include the Servillo brothers, Toni and Peppe, actor Marco D’Amore, directors Pietro Marcello and Edoardo De Angelis, writers Antonio Pascale, Tony Laudadio, Enrico Ianniello. And pizzaiolo Francesco Martucci.

And still, despite the spotlight these figures shine on Terra di Lavoro, some still claim it’s only “luck” and not hard work or vision. “They’re the ones who complain about potholes but then park in triple rows in front of schools. But luckily, they’re only a small faction,” Francesco says caustically.

The only luck you can have when it comes to I Masanielli in Caserta is managing to get a table without a reservation. On a cold, rainy Wednesday night at 9 p.m., there were about 30 people waiting outside. Having reserved, we entered without delay into a space with dark and golden tones, offering relaxed yet efficient service.

We began with a Saturnia: roasted tomato cream, buffalo mozzarella DOP, black garlic mousse fermented with soy, Caiazzane olive powder, Salina caper powder, crispy onion, Cabras mullet roe, and extra virgin olive oil from the Caiatine Hills. Selected ingredients, with a clear preference for local products.

Then Francesco arrives: “Do you remember the roasted artichokes?” The Artichoke Absolute: fresh artichoke stem cream, smoked provola cheese, fresh artichoke, aged pecorino from Monti Lattari, pepper, garlic, parsley, smoked extra virgin olive oil. The aroma from the pizza immediately transports my 76-year-old father back to a precise moment in his memory: that late December Sunday when, from early morning, street vendors – or mothers and grandmothers in their respective homes – roasted richly seasoned artichokes in small braziers by streets festively lit. The pizza is a memory that becomes present.

Finally, the masterpiece of philology: the Tomato Absolute: roasted cherry tomato cream, piennolo tomato sautéed in pieces, yellow long-storage tomato sautéed, San Marzano tomato DOP mousse, dried piennolo cherry tomato, red datterino tomato wafer, piennolo tomato jam, and extra virgin olive oil. On reflection, it’s a pizza with just one ingredient, but saying so would be absurd. The first ingredient is the cooking process: threefold. Steam at 100°C, oil at 180°C, and oven at 400°C. A perfect balance of crunchiness and softness. Every variation of the tomato is present, in all its preparations – the skin of the red datterino tomato magically transformed into a crispy chip – almost constructing a thesaurus, a dictionary of every tomato that has existed and will exist. The simple yet brilliant intuition of taking the most common ingredient on pizzas worldwide and making it the absolute star.

The beer list is long and varied, but even more intriguing is what could be called a resemanticization of the wine list: no longer the usual taxonomic categories (such as color or origin) but eight new categories reflecting the wine’s essence or purpose: from Refreshing to Dynamic, Reflective to Reassuring, Indulgent to Bold, Timeless to Versatile. Even the dessert menu, though numerically more limited, is worth exploring.

Those who have had the privilege of dining at fine-dining restaurants know that what makes the experience special includes narrative, formality, and ambiance. It’s never just about the food, but also the plate it’s served on, the server’s demeanor, the lighting in the room, the clarity of the menu, and so on. I Masanielli stands out in this way: you’re seated in the world’s best pizzeria, and the only thing that reminds you of it is the pizza you’re eating. To be clear: the place is well-kept and aesthetically coherent; the service, as mentioned, relaxed but efficient; attention to detail is evident everywhere.

All of this matters, much like the background of a beautiful portrait; at the center of the frame, however, is the world’s best pizza: that of Francesco Martucci, man, father, pizzaiolo.

La Sosta del Cavaliere is a place where attention to detail reigns supreme. The mirror room and the unique wine display add to the restaurant’s distinctive character, creating an enchanting ambiance of harmony and elegance – a truly unforgettable gourmet retreat. This is the sacred space of chef and owner Leonardo Fiorenzani, a self-taught culinary artist whose passion for cooking began in childhood as he eagerly watched his grandmother prepare traditional Tuscan dishes.

Sustainability is at the heart of Leonardo’s cooking. He grows his own vegetables, herbs, and spices, ensuring that every dish is as fresh and environmentally conscious as it is flavorful. While Tuscan cuisine laid the foundation for his culinary journey, today, his offerings have evolved into fine dining experiences, crafted with carefully selected ingredients and inspired by the rich variety and quality of local products.

As Chef Leonardo explains:

“La Sosta del Cavaliere is all about staying true to the local roots, inspired by the stunning landscapes of the Val di Merse and the Montagnola Senese, and driven by a deep appreciation for the incredible local produce. My cooking is all about embracing the flavors of this land, reflecting a journey of learning that’s shaped my culinary philosophy—always aiming for top-notch quality, letting the natural beauty of the ingredients speak for themselves.“

La Sosta del Cavaliere offers three tasting menus – Alchimia, Artemia, and Radici – each showcasing Chef Leonardo’s culinary journey. Prices for these menus range from €70 to €100, with wine pairings available for an additional €40 to €80.