If you arrive at lunchtime (as I did), they hand you a little glass of red wine and offer you a small slice of bread topped with a spalmata (a schmear) of his spiced lard.
Note his signature boneless Panzanese steaks in the center of the case.
As fabu and glam as Dario is, his place is all old school, all the way.
Dario — a poet butcher — famously sang the death of the bistecca alla fiorentina back in 2001 when it was banned at the peak of Mad Cow pandemonium.
Across the street.
Springtime has come early to Tuscany, not a good sign for the vintage, especially with fears of drought running high this year. When I was out walking in the vineyards, you could hear the insects buzzing and there were lizards everywhere.
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain…