One Tiny Enoteca

When you're walking the streets of unfamiliar cities, it's often best to surpress the survival of the fittest instinct and squeeze yourself into and through as many dark alleyways as you can find.  If you've been to places like Venice or Florence, in Italy, you know exactly what I mean.  I did this recently, a few times, and oh what beautiful gems were hidden behind the soot-encrusted gray facades!  When the artist Brunilleschi was just figuring out how to illustrate using perspective 600 years ago, he was probably standing at the opening of one end of these long alleys, or maybe he was standing right here, on the edge of the Arno:

Ponte Vecchio at Dusk

I could write miles of paragraphs about the tasty meals I've eaten inside some of these gems, and maybe I will, eventually.  Today, I will write about the tiniest gem of them all, Il Santino Bevitore.


Il Santino is one of those places I can't get out of my mind, and I regret that it is on another continent.  This enoteca gastronomia is located just enough off the beaten path from the Ponte Vecchio, closer to the Ponte alla Carrola, on Via Santo Spirito, Firenze.


I came upon this little enoteca at the end of a long, cool, pedestrian day that included a thorough tour of the Pitti Palace and accompanying Boboli Gardens.  I was with my mother, and we were among the last people to squeeze out of a side gate at dusk.  We were hungry, and in a mindset and position to find a nice meal.  We meandered through the streets looking for an open market that we had encountered earlier in the week, hoping to grab some good street food and a few mementos.


We happened upon a modest storefront on Via dei Serragli that caught our attention.  The establishment was, and still is, Silathai Thai Massage Center.  After five days of trekking the cobblestone of Firenze, Silathai had exactly what we needed.  Foot massages.  


We went in.


The foyer was like a sanctuary, dimly lit and peaceful.  The ceilings were frescoed with  biblical themes, complete with cherubic angels cushioned on billowy white clouds floating in sky blue.  The man behind the desk, at street level, greeted us warmly, and after a discussion of services, put us in the books for full body massages.  Unfortunately, he explained, he could not take us both at the same time, at that moment, but would we be willing to sit in the lounge and have tea for 10 minutes, when both his masseuses would be available?


Sit in the lounge we did, drinkng tea and invoking pranayama.  The massages were fabulous.  We regrouped in Silathai's lounge, that space which blends historic Firenze and ancient mudra in sublime balance.

The Before Picture
(no, seriously, a sculpture from the Palazzo Medici)

Speaking of blends, it was time for cocktails.  Backs cracked and feet restored, we hit the streets, now pitch dark, looking for our next feast.  That's when we found Il Santino.

We came upon Il Santino just past 7 o'clock, er, 19:00, before which time it is a waste to even think about eating dinner in Italy, and in just enough time that we arrived at Il Santino before almost everyone else did.  The floor-to-ceiling glass entry door opened onto one end of a deli counter, which ran most of the distance to the back of the enoteca.  Behind the counter was a brasserie style mirrored wall, and on top of the counter was a massive red and silver meat slicer.  All around, animal parts, salted and dry.  The young proprietor spent his evening loading these parts onto the slicer then transferring the cuts onto serving plates.  Inside the counter, a few traditional Tuscan dishes in various jars and on platters.


Opposite the mirrored wall a few customers sat on a dark wooden bench which also ran the length of the enoteca.  Four tables stood out from the bench, each surrounded by a chair or two.  We pounced on the last one of four tables in the entire shoebox-sized gastronomic delight.  The tables were wooden, round, and about 18" in diameter, roughly the size of an extra large cheese pizza.


Non parlo Italiano, and the server didn't speak English.  She got the point however that we wanted two good glasses of white wine, meat, cheese, and bread.  We tasted a couple of options in the wine category and selected a crispy, cool Italian blend.  Not long after, two generous antipasti platters appeared, one spread with freshly sliced meats, the other covered with small mounds of regional cheeses and a fruit spread.  Next to us sat a family of four, and we gawked curiously at the dishes that periodically arrived at their table.


Stuffed, we paid il conto and left this tiny enoteca, with its meat slicer, wine, and four tables.   It was a place you might not expect to find, or enter, at the end of an alley or the foot of a blackened building.  Despite its diminutive facade, the life inside was big, bold, and familial.