I don’t even know where to begin. This is the fifth time I’ve deleted my thoughts from my phone’s notes app. Perhaps I just need to tell you how it all happened.
I had been in Palermo (Sicily) for a week and was feeling completely out of sorts. When you eat out constantly, everything feels fantastic at first. But then comes the bill - if you don't pay attention to it, your body certainly will - and at that moment, all I wanted was to be back home. When I was told about A Casa di Francesco (in Cerda street, in the center of the city), I decided to tread lightly and step inside.
Several years have passed since my first visit, yet the cleanliness, the food offering, and the creative flair for interior decor (the plates used to replicate the shape of Sicily are a stroke of genius) have remained unchanged. Yet there is more, because here you truly are at Francesco's home. Small details speak of him, most notably the Polaroids that have always been there, pinned to the wall behind a table for four. That is how I discretely followed all his adventures - which, despite the tough moments, always carried a gentle gaze and the smile of someone who teaches you about life.
A casa di Francesco has become one of my absolute favourite places, and not just because the food tastes wonderful. I return because, from the very first moment, I felt a sense of well-being. I’ve never told Linda, it’s just a feeling, something invisible that you can’t rate alongside the dishes on TripAdvisor.
The care, the warmth, the genuine smiles are tangible and belong to everyone: to Jessica, who helps out in the kitchen, and to grandmother Giusy, who occasionally brings over a coffee or clears a table. That doesn't mean there aren't off days or moments when everything moves at a frantic pace.
What you find here isn't a bistro; it’s a family. A real family that doesn't need to put on a show because it is right there in their shared rapport, facing the chaotic rush, planning trips around the world to discover new flavours, and coordinating the subtle changes to this space. It feels like a work in progress that moves a step closer every day to the vision of their dreams.
When a place like this becomes an extension of a philosophy - of what you desire for yourself or what makes you feel good, business aside, I believe it becomes a blessing for everyone else.
I have such deep admiration for Linda and Silvio: for who they were, who they are, and who they will become, because all I perceive is an abundance of love.
Linda is a cross between a chef, the Piero Angela of gastronomy (do follow them on Instagram), and a fashionista. She is always polished and stylish, even when wearing her apron.
Meanwhile, her husband, Silvio, glides through the dining room with quiet confidence, tending to the fresh flowers on the tables, managing supplier deliveries, or greeting those queuing for a spot - even though, in his previous life, he did something entirely different.
The menu changes daily and is strictly written by hand on a large blackboard at the entrance of the open kitchen, in a neat print I wish were my own. It bears none of the somber tone associated with the guilt of having overindulged and trying to get back on track come Monday.
The menu leans heavily towards vegetables (including those you didn't even know existed, alongside zero-km produce), pulses, and fish (wild salmon) - and it’s spot-on even if you’re lactose-free.
Everything is balanced, vibrant, and plated in a simple yet impeccable manner. I notice a certain discipline in how it’s done, looking at how the goods are arranged in the open pantry (which you can buy from) or how the ingredients sit in the display fridge, waiting to be assembled to order.
Without preaching or lecturing me, Linda and Silvio indirectly show me that eating healthily -yet with real pleasure - requires a fair amount of love for oneself and one's body (as well as a good deal of effort, as far as I'm concerned). They remind me that every single day you can decide - or at least try - what to make of your life, even when it throws punches.
If you happen to pass by, you can treat yourself to a savoury breakfast, a distinct lunch, or a tasty afternoon bite (you absolutely must try the Pavlova!). A few tables inside lend themselves to sharing, but when the weather is fine, you can also sit at the tables outside. You order at the kitchen counter and take a seat; they will serve you as soon as it’s ready.
I’ve heard a few people complaining about the prices, and I get it, especially when you consider what else is out there: the rosticceria Al Pezzo offers a plate of anellini pasta for maybe five euros, and at Ai Cuochini you can get an arancina or a small focaccia with panella for just over a euro. But we’re talking about something entirely different here.