You know how before you’ve been away somewhere you really haven’t a clue about your destination, so you ask round for advice, some of which turns out to be useless and some of it brilliant? And how, once you’ve got back, even though you knew almost less than nothing a week ago, you’re suddenly Mr Expert?
Well that’s me, now, after a weekend in Florence. Suddenly I’m Mr Florence Expert.
Obviously I’m not really, but if you’re going to Florence, or you’re thinking of going to Florence, or if you’ve been to Florence, or you just like reading my stuff because it’s always entertaining then this piece will be right up your Via, probably.
Don’t Order The Bistecca
One of the main gastronomic specialities of Florence is a huge chunk of steak on the bone called Bistecca alla Fiorentina. They cook it perfectly - charred on the outside, very pink in the middle - and, quite rightly in my view, won’t serve it to you any other way. Before they cook it for you they parade the chunk of meat before you at your table and you go - “Ooh yes! I’ll have some of that!”
But this decision is a mistake. Your hunk of meat is going to set you back a minimum of 50 Euros (because they won’t cook less than a kilo), which though not expensive given the quantity of juicy flesh involved, is still a waste of your valuable Italian eating money. Let me explain why: 50 Euros is comfortably the equivalent of two really good main courses (‘Secondi piatti’), say an ossobucco or a fish dish. How many days have you got of eating Italian regional food? Not many, probably. Do you really want to use up one of your meals eating what, essentially, for all its magnificence in appearance, is just a big chunk of steak, which tastes the same each mouthful. And which you won’t finish.
You will, of course, ignore my advice. And probably rightly because Bistecca all Fiorentinais a dish you’ll want to try at least once. But the first will also be your last because afterwards you’ll have learned your lesson.
This is possibly one of the best, most authentic and relatively untouristy restaurants in Florence. You will find it impossible to book a table because they usually won’t answer the phone. But you do have to book to get in so my advice is turn up in the morning and reserve in person. It’s worth it.
Why is it so good? Well, being just outside the city walls it’s away from the main drag. Its attitude, not unfriendly, just honest, is: “If you can’t be bothered to make the effort we don’t want you in here.” By the time it opens for dinner at 7.30pm, a big queue will have built up outside (all people who’ve booked). Then everyone surges in and grabs a place on one of the long tables. You’re dining with strangers and it’s pot luck who you get.
We were lucky. “Are you James Delingpole? I came to your house twenty-five years ago!” said a nice woman in the party of three next to us. Her name is Chrissie Manby and she’s now a very successful novelist, author of more than 40 books (including this romance set in Florence), but when she came round to our house, she was just an impoverished student and aspirant writer, who’d turned up randomly because she was a friend of a friend of mine. Apparently we were welcoming to her - which was a relief to hear - and she’d never forgotten us. The couple on the other side of the table from Perth, Australia were also nice. Obviously I talked to them about the shark danger while swimming off Cottesloe and City beaches. James, the Aussie, thought it wasn’t worth the risk, whereas I, the other James thought it was a game of percentages worth playing.
I recommend the Penne alla bettola (which I think have vodka and a bit of spice in them). But it’s all good.
Cocktails
Apparently the loggia roof bar in the Hotel Palazzo Guadigni overlooking Santo Spirito square is great for cocktails. But we couldn’t get in because we hadn’t booked. [Booking seems essential for pretty much everything in Florence, even in off-season, if you want to get in]. This did at least spare us the horror, though, of the busker in the piazza below playing pop ‘classics’ on his saxophone. First Eye of the Tiger; then, just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Imagine.

But I doubt for cocktails you’re likely to beat the ones in Serre Torrigiani, up by the Porta Romana. It’s in a corner of the biggest private garden in Europe, which belongs to a marquese whose family have had it since at least the Renaissance. We couldn’t get to see the garden - probably because we hadn’t booked. But you can see from the aerial shots on their website that it’s pretty incredible, even though you’re only allowed to visit a fraction of it.
I recommend the cocktail with cucumber flavouring. Or the basilica. They do food too. Apparently it gets rammed with cocktail-drinkers in summer, 500 at a time.
Giardino Dell’Iris
Too late. You’ve probably already missed it. It’s only open from 25 April to 20 May, or thereabouts, because that’s the iris season. The red iris on a white ground (not a lily, as incorrectly believed) is Florence’s emblem. I love irises. They are one of my favourite flowers, as how could they not be anyone’s? Supposedly - though I can’t quite believe this - you can see up to 1500 varieties of iris in all shades from purple to burnt sienna to salmon pink to yellow and deep blue.
The garden is just below the tourist hell spot of the Piazzale Michelangelo, full of stalls selling tat to the captive audience lured there by the panoramic view of the city. Unless you know it’s there you could easily miss it. Unusually for Florence, it has free entrance.
The Uffizi
Because the queues are so terrifyingly long, you may be tempted to give it a miss. This would be a mistake. For my money this is the best art collection in the world and if you want to see masterpieces like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus - which you do, because unlike say the Mona Lisa it really doesn’t disappoint in the flesh - then you’ve no option but to put yourself through this gruelling but rewarding ordeal-by-art.
Reserve your ticket way in advance of your visit. Be prepared to be thoroughly knackered and paintinged-out by the time you get to the Caravaggio Medusa and his even-better Bacchus. I think my favourite is probably the Lucas Cranach Adam and Eve has just taken her first bite of the apple and her coyly inviting half smile is so seductive that it’s no wonder that Adam, who has never seen anything like this before, is scratching his head and looking somewhat bemused.
Shiacciata is a Tuscan flatbread, a bit likefocaccia only thinner and crispier on the outside. It’s olive-oily and melts in the mouth. One of the best places to get it is just outside the Uffizi exit - a good way to recover from your ordeal-by-painting. If you get the timing wrong, you’ll have to queue for about an hour. So, my advice is to go for the 8.15am slot at the Uffizi, which means you’ll be out well before the lunchtime crush. I only queued for about 5 minutes.
I can recommend the Pistachio 4 (Parma prosciutto crudo PDO 18 months, fior di latte mozzarella, pistachio cream, and pistachio granules). Yeah. It sounds weird. But if you don’t try a pistachio sandwich at least once in your life you’re going to kick yourself when you get home. Also, it’s delicious.
Brancacci Chapel
When I first visited Florence in my youth, the Brancacci Chapel was closed for restoration. It was also closed for restoration the next time I went. So, third time lucky.
You go to see the frescoes by Masolino, Masaccio and - turning up sixty years later to finish the job - Filippino Lippi. Felice Brancacci, the chapel’s patron, was a wealthy cloth dealer. In one of the scenes (by Masolino), his wares are advertised in the splendidly rich garments worn by a pair of snooty nobles utterly indifferent to the miracle being conducted behind them by St Peter (Tabitha being raised from the dead). Overtly, the message is: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” Covertly, it’s saying: “Come to Brancacci’s high class outfitters for all your embroidered silk requirements.”
Boboli Gardens
I make no apologies for the fact that most of my recommendations are south of the river, in the area known as Oltrarno (ie ‘the other side of the river Arno’). That’s because, just like with Rome and Venice which suffer from the same problem, you need a haven to which you can retreat from all the heavy sight seeing. Oltrarno is your friend.
The gardens are behind the Pitti Palace and you could spend at least half a day just chilling there and making the most of your 10 Euro entry fee. There are lots of high hedges and avenues offering shade. And if you need things to look at there are sculptures everywhere - some Roman, some more recent, such as the one from 1560 depicting Cosimo Medici’s favourite dwarf (I wonder how his other dwarves felt about this): it has been open to the public since 1766; before that it was the Medicis’ private playground - and grottoes.
If, like me, you are down the rabbit hole then you may find the grottoes particularly interesting. They are chock-full of owls and goats, including the leering head of a horned goat looking suspiciously like you-know-who. I appreciate that the Medici family spent a lot on church interiors and religious paintings. But I don’t think that’s where their real religious sympathies lay, do you?
Churches, cathedrals, cloisters, duomos, etc
You’ll find a lot of these in Florence, more than you can shake a stick at. And they contain all manner of treasures, such as the exquisite crucifix Michelangelo sculpted when he was just eighteen and Francis of Assisi’s very rough woven black robe, plus all manner of spectacular frescoes, like the ones in the Spanish Chapel at Santa Maria Novella. Not to mention some fine architecture which you will especially like if you are in to Brunelleschi.
Here’s the thing, though: if you miss some of it, or even most of it, it won’t kill you. Even though I’m writing this but a few days after my visit, already all the church interiors and paintings and frescoes have merged in my head into one messy high cultural sludge. I fear this is the normal experience for most of us. Within a year you’ll be able to remember barely a single detail about your trip. And the details you will remember probably won’t have much to do with art and churches, but with people and incidents and food.
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