Once in Sicily, a waiter asked for my name and took note of my table because he wanted to cross-check any online reviews and see what I might write. I wasn’t an exception, he did it with everyone.
I’m not sure whether to view that as a form of self-preservation or control. The fact remains that there are exceptional places that have never once asked me for a review, and others - churned out automatically on review platforms, perhaps courtesy of ChatGPT - that brag high ratings they don't remotely deserve. It’s a jungle out there! I feel for consumers, but also for those trying to navigate a living in this market.
Those who left a one-star review likely judged the wait out of sheer emotion, rather than evaluating the place itself or the quality of its platters.
So, a word of advice: do not come here if you are starving and in a rush. Relax!
Even from the shop windows - which remind you that there’s live music after 9 pm - you can spot shelves neatly displaying wine labels, a generous refrigerated display laden with cheeses and cured meats, and a few small tables welcoming guests to eat in.
It’s a single, bright space with high ceilings and terrazzo flooring, occupying a corner on Corso Cavour. I wonder what it used to be in a former life.
Local is the password for everything you see and taste here. That delights me, as it’s precisely what I was looking for.
Eye-catching, colourful tin boxes, candles, an antique mirror, and a selection of books about the region line the space.
Snoop around, snoop everywhere. You might just find sauces, honey, and jams you’ll want to taste right away or pack in your bag to take home.
Wide-open windows and doors connect the shop to the outside world, allowing you to watch the promenade that gently disrupts the evening quiet of the corso after 6 pm, while others pause for a toast around the wooden barrels RetroGusto has set up outside.
There is no air conditioning, but even in August, it remains pleasantly comfortable.
Roberta, a handsome woman with short blonde hair, is the owner, you realise this quickly, as several portraits of her are scattered around.
It’s the first time I’ve met her, but she clearly has impeccable taste: in this space, she has managed to find a harmonious spot for everything, even the recycling bins, which she has discreetly disguised in the dining area.
I would love to know how she selects and meets these small-scale producers, whether she’s local, and how she sourced many of the vintage pieces here. Given the crowd, I am forced to hold back my questions, but I watch her work instead.
Amidst the stream of Italian and international tourists, every so often a local pops in, orders a selection of cheeses or a bottle of wine, and goes on their way.
The cheeses, much like the cured meats, come from small-scale producers. You’ll find fresh, soft cheeses rolled in crushed dried fruit alongside mature varieties with bold, robust flavours steeped in wine and hay.
For my platter, I chose figs, olives (not Taggiasca, but every bit as good), prosciutto cured with pink peppercorns, and an array of delicacies served alongside white schiacce—the very best I’ve tasted in Tuscany. I sip a blueberry nectar juice, though it proves a touch too sweet for my liking.
Every customer asks for details about the products and handpicks what goes onto their platter (it’s sold by weight-if memory serves, around €5.50 per 100g). They prepare it for you on the spot, and you pay at the till while ordering a good wine or a soft drink before heading to your table.
I imagine managing all of this isn't easy-on either side of the counter. With such high demand and only two people running the entire show, if you aren't a patient person, learn to be one. It’s well worth the wait. And please, before you leave, clear your own table!