Running a restaurant with values is no mean feat in a city like Florence, where tourist fodder has seen the likes of independent eateries like Essenziale shutter up and leave town. Thankfully, two guys who once worked at the Oltrarno forerunner have decided to pay the high-stakes game and open hip, homely and natural-centric hangout Santabarbara Desco & Cucina off new-look piazza della Libertà, which just became closer to the centre with the extension of the T2 tramline. In their words, “Opening a new restaurant in Florence today means playing with fire in a battleground filled with casualties, injuries and little visibility. But the passion that burns for this work is stronger than anything else.”
It’s a dreary Wednesday night when Lorenzo Chirimischi (Ora D’Aria, Sesto on Arno, Essenziale, Gurdulù Gastronomia, Alchymist Grand Hotel & Spa) and Alessio Ninci (Arnolfo, Saint Hubertus, Essenziale, Borgo Santo Pietro) welcome us into the well-designed restaurant complete with light wooden slats and backlit panels. Just 20 covers make for a cozy experience as the two chefs serve you directly, whether at the fistful of tables or at the izakaya-style counter beneath the pass, elbow to elbow with fellow diners.
Innamorata with the open kitchen, I watch on, entranced, as the chefs perfect their tasting menus, spooning, piping, heating and cooling to the soundtrack of soft rock and retro pop. Playing cards explain the concept: there’s Fulmine (€25), the quickest experience, featuring five small dishes; Torre (€45), consisting of three tapa and two mains focusing on comforting and traditional flavours; Cannone (€45), the same number of dishes, yet with more creative and explosive flavors; while Spada goes all out at €60): five courses that represent the essence of Santabarbara.
“Santabarbara offers a new approach to dining with short menus that reduce costs for both the customer and the restaurant, improving quality while minimizing food waste and kitchen workload…The goal is to purchase fresh ingredients daily from small local producers, which have an impact on the menu,” explains Lorenzo.
A tableau of antipasti lifts the curtain on the evening: shrimp and mango ceviche; amberjack crudo with turnip greens; escalope agrodolce studded with pine nuts; moreish steak tartare; lampredotto takoyaki topped with katsuobushi that waves at you; and an onion tarte tatin masterpiece that, IMHO, must never be removed from the menu. All of these morsels spark conversation, washed down with nifty unfiltered Bical-based Portuguese bubbles. Sampling both the Torre and Cannone menus, my hubbie makes short shrift of the sardine-garnished fregola sublimely accentuated by marsala and the beef tortelli crowned with artichokes with an aged balsamic vinegar rim promptly vanish into my happy belly. Flashes of fire in honour of the bistro’s sixth-century namesake are reflected in the steel backsplash as Alessio pan-fries the mains. (Legend has it that Santa Barbara’s father tried to have his daughter burned alive following her conversion to Christianity, but the fire was extinguished, seemingly by divine will and her father, who eventually had her decapitated, was struck dead by a lightning bolt on the spot.)
“You leave feeling like you’ve eaten, but without being overly full,” concludes Lorenzo. One scoop of lemon and cider sorbet, and we’re parting ways.
Postscript: After our meal at Santabarbara, I had my best night’s slumber so far this year, dreams included.
