Trattoria Cammillo {Florence}

It always cracks me up that in cities like New York, Paris and London there are places that try so hard to mimic a true Italian restaurant. They often have good food, but kind of miss the point in re-creating the atmosphere. There is just no way that you can totally recreate patina. In certain restaurants and trattorie that have been there for decades, it’s not just the smoke and flavors from the kitchen that lends a place its sense of time, but the people who have passed through, and continue to work, dine and live in the places I love best.

In Rome you can follow Sophie on her instagram account (especially her stories)  as she often hangs out for hours in the types of coffee bars where the main point is just sitting, chatting and watching life go by. You really can’t make this up. 

Me? You’re more likely to find me traveling back in time in the glare of harsh lighting, crisp white table clothes and waiters who bring an art and flair to their trade. I’m talking about true, old fashioned ristorante and trattorie. And I’m willing to travel for a good one. A while ago I hopped on a train up to Florence just so I could finally make it to Cammillo. I’d  been hearing about this bastion of Florentine dining forever from my friend Rolando. But since it was ‘his’ place, I didn’t want to go on my own. And somehow or other our paths never crossed long enough in Florence to make it there. Until now.

I was with Michael, the editor of my last two books Eating Rome and Eating My Way Through Italy) . After our all too quick train ride and walk across the Arno, we found Rolando already ensconced at ‘his’ spot. The large table which abuts the kitchen in the back is reserved for ‘family’ and you are more likely to see a grandmother here or else a child finishing their homework. But today Rolando, who has been coming here for decades, was taking his rightful place. And we felt lucky to join him.

The restaurant is called a ‘trattoria’ but feels more like a ‘ristorante.’ Freshly pressed linens cover the tables and equally freshly pressed linen cover the charming professional waiters. Framed artwork from patrons past  cover the walls and black and white marble floors stretch back to the open kitchen.

All of the smells coming out of the kitchen were calling us, but Rolando took charge and ordered….what seemed like half of the very large menu. To stave off our urgent hunger from our trip up from Rome a plate full of prosciutto arrived within seconds. And then we quickly moved on to Rolando’s favorite antipasti. And since he knows me well, he was already defending his first choice. “Trust me,” he said before I could get a word in to express my doubts “This is the best foie gras you will ever have.” Because, well, foie gras in a Tuscan Trattoria? Yes, really. Made in house by the owner, Chiara, and served with home made dark bread it was ethereal. Much less pretension and more earthy than what you’d find at a fancier restaurant, I just about gobbled up the huge wedges all by myself.

Next came a lovely plate full of deep fried sage leaves stuffed with anchovies. We also had a mound full of julienned celeriac, served as a salad and topped with bottarga and hard boiled eggs. My kind of salad.

As massive grilled steaks were coming out of the kitchen past our table fast and furious, (they are cooked atop a wood fired grill in the back) we were just getting started on our primi. A half portion of perfectly cooked Spaghetti with fresh cherry tomatoes and spring garlic made its way to our table since it’s what Rolando usually orders (he’s a minimalist at heart) as well as the house specialty: Pappa al Pomodoro. This thick bread ‘soup’ was topped with shaved basil and doused in the fruity extra virgin olive oil.

Our main course finally got to the grilled meat we’d been salivating over as it passed by our table to other guests. Instead of the massive bistecca fiorentina (another speciality of the house) we decided we were craving rabbit (and as Michael said, you can never get it in New York) we ordered the de-boned grilled rabbit, rubbed with rosemary and just crispy enough around the edges. The rest of the table was overflowing with fritti: baby artichokes; zucchini blossoms stuffed with anchovies, crispy fried potatoes and light-as-air nuggets of fried veal brains. 

We lingered long after the last guest had left, nibbling on our desserts and and slowly sipping coffee. We stayed so long that we even saw the waiters change out of their uniforms and go home until dinner service. But we had the family table, so no one was pushing us out the door. And this is the key to the kinds of places that draw me in. They are the kind of places you never want to leave.

Trattoria Cammillo
Borgo San Jacopo 57R
Florence
tel: +39.055.212.427
Hours:
Thursday – Monday, 12-2:30; 19:30-22:30
Closed Tuesday and Wednesday
FYI: even though Cammillo is called a ‘trattoria’ it really is more of a ‘ristorante.’ And the service, and prices, reflect that. Also: they don’t have a website, you have to phone for a reservation and it books up way in advance.

For more on dining in Florence see my app, EAT ITALY available on iTunes and for Android as well as my book EATING MY WAY THROUGH ITALY.

For recipes and other information about Cammillo see Rolando’s book, Autentico.

And if you’d like to join me for a week full of long meals at some of my favorite places, have a look at the Week in Italy tours I’ve got planned.