Tuscany - Dario Cecchini and SoloCiccia

Panzano's main tourist attraction, (apart from an excellent leatherworker/cobbler), is the butcher, Dario Cecchini - whose family has called Panzano home and been butchering animals there for 250 years. His Antica Macelleria Cecchini has been a family business forever and you can tell that he takes his meat very seriously. Very, VERY seriously.

It's not just that on all of his shop's literature there is a picture of him holding a raw steak like a priest offering up a bloody heart to his gods, it's that when you ask for his autograph, he signs it "EAT MEAT!!!" with a little laugh and then a searing glance to be sure that you've gotten the message. Vegetarians would be horrified, and as an ex-vegetarian myself I felt discomfited - but standing in his shop you can't help but think that here is a man who LOVES meat. It isn't his occupation, it is most definitely his VOCATION. Outside his butcher's shop he has what I am pretty sure is a memorial to the steak in the above photograph. "In Memory of the Florentine Steak..."

We swung through his shop on one of our first days in Panzano; towed along behind our intrepid Aunt Maureen who had been to the area before and had already formed a lasting affection for the butcher, and the food. She gushed to us about the charming shop all the way across the village square, (which, as previously mentioned, is in fact a triangle). Reaching it, we stumbled into a mob. The Macellaria was packed ribs-to-elbows with tourists, locals, and traveling Italians. Bicycles were parked three deep on the sidewalk.

Over the sound system a lovely piece of classical music was playing, and an employee was handing out glasses of red wine from Dario's vineyard and encouraging everyone to sample the homemade bread, olive oil and meats and cheeses set on the sideboard toward the back of the shop. It was ten in the morning. Alla salute! Why not? "When (roughly four hours from) in Rome..." my constitution being what it is, after a small glass of the red wine I felt it was imperative that I get a photograph of myself next to the large minotaur butcher statue in the corner. Next to him and I you can see the straw-wrapped bottle of red wine and the homemade bread that was being served, and also the rows of bottles of sauces and seasoning salts that he makes and sells. I'm pretty sure I was attempting to pinch his apron string, or similar.

Bottom's Up

We all bought little gift bottles of his trademark seasoning salt, I bought a large bottle to bring home for Sandy, and then Aunt Maureen purchased a number of sausages from him. Dario mans the meat counter and register himself with authority and good humor - and can be overheard quoting Dante's "Inferno" to himself as he cuts meat and wraps things up in waxed paper. In a uniquely Tuscan moment, he would not let us leave the shop until he was certain that she knew how to cook them the way he would. There were plenty of people waiting for his attention behind us but he didn't seem at all rushed.

This is a Tuscan trait I had noticed throughout our stay, whenever we purchased supplies the shopkeeper would stop us and say, "now, this is how I would prepare that..." There is an innate affection and respect for food and the ritual of eating in Tuscany. Aunt Maureen told him we'd be seeing him again later in the week, since she had made a reservation for all of us to dine at SoloCiccia* - one of his restaurants. That's him below in the peach colored shirt directly behind the pig's head made of seasoned lard. Yeah, I'm not kidding. We were there when someone bought the left ear.

The sausage was delicious.

And so, several days later we returned to Dario Cecchini and placed our tastebuds and stomachs into his hands.

I love this shot of Dario framed in the window of the restaurant above his shop...

SoloCiccia* is a butcher's restaurant, through and through. Because Dario grew up in a family of butchers, he says, what they ate every night were the things they could not sell in the shop - as the saying goes they ate everything but the squeal. So at SoloCiccia he does not serve steak. Instead he serves everything else. Thus, although the ingredients were explained to us briefly by our waiter I chose to tune him out so that I could enjoy the meal without thinking about what it had once been.** But if anyone is curious, here is the menu in Italian. Good luck.

I did, however, very much enjoy the welcoming message on the flip side of the menu.

"This is not a restaurant, it is the home of a butcher. All that you will eat is the fruit of my work and that of my family. You will not choose from a menu, though you will be treated well and with great respect, if you return the favor.

You will eat at a communal table, together "in convivio."

There will be six meat courses, chosen at my discretion, with seasonal vegetables, white beans with olive oil, focaccia bread wine cake coffee and after-dinner liqueurs.

All of the above is to be had for 30 euro, with nearly two hours at our table, at the end of which you will turn over your seat to the next guest.

We do not serve steak.

We are open Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings, with seatings at 7:00 and 9:00 p.m. On Sundays we sit down for lunch at 1:00 p.m.

In closing, please be aware that everything: the food the wine the space and we ourselves are, for better or for worse...thoroughly Tuscan.

P.S. Please feel free to bring your own wine without a corkage fee.

Welcome (if you dare!)"

That pretty much sums up the experience. Six meat courses! Ye gods! By the end of the meal I felt like I was being fattened up for the pleasure of some gingerbread-house-dwelling witch. I felt like a bratwurst.*** Each plate was brought to the room by a dumb waiter in the corner and dispersed to us by our slightly sarcastic, world-weary waiter. The man positively flounced in and out of the room. It was amazing. At one point Dario himself appeared with his translator to encourage us to eat more.

And we ate. And ate. And in between eating we fought. There were vociferous arguments across the table about which dish was the best, and a long game of "if you were on death row what would your last breakfast, lunch and dinner be?" Long because people kept going back and changing one of their meals to include something we'd just eaten at Dario Cecchini's table. Long also because Diana kept getting upset that we were talking about Death Row and insisted on referring to it as a special birthday set of meals instead. Diana is adorable.

I did not take pictures of the food because that would have involved putting my fork down and that was just. not. happening. I don't know what I ate, but it was all delicious. I'm sure some of it would curl my hair if I knew what it was made of - which just goes to show you how wise I was to tune out the explanations given by the waiter.

Then it was over. We were staggering out into the warm Chianti night clutching our bellies and offering up praises to the Master of Meat, Dario Cecchini. Cousin Sam had asked me earlier in the day which of the things we'd been to in Tuscany that I most wished Sandy had been there for, and he stopped me that night to say, "I think we all wish Sandy had been at dinner tonight the most..." and I had to agree.

We bid goodnight to the photograph of Dario holding his holy steak, and went back to Podere Felceto to try and sleep it off.

Just now, after doing some google searching on the man, I discovered a humbling fact. I am not the first to liken Dario Cecchini to a bloody-fisted priest. He himself has done so.

"A butcher is like a priest," he says, only partially joking as he cleaves through the bone of a two-inch thick bistecca fiorentina, the classic Tuscan beefsteak. "We represent blood, life and carnality. We understand about the flesh, about sin, about good food and beautiful women."

And what can I add to that?

p.s. If you would like to read more about Dario, please visit this link!


* "Only Meat"
** Although I did tune in briefly when he was describing a particular dish, because he gave us the name in Italian and then said something along the lines of "meat with a sprig of rosemary - (raspberry sound) - up the butt!" with a very descriptive noise and thumb gesture. This was amazing.
*** Stuffed full of unknown, and possibly unknowable, meat products.