Buca Lapi

Walking into Buca Lapi for the first time is a small piece of theatre, and that is before any food has arrived.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: vaulted brick cellar under Palazzo Antinori. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with a wedge of iceberg with blue cheese, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a heavy California zinfandel, no apologies, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: bistecca fiorentina, the dish that puts Buca Lapi on every short list. The crust was the colour of dark mahogany, and the inside was a confident, even pink the whole way through. The signature touch — the oldest cantina in Florence, since 1880 — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for creamed spinach so rich it should embarrass us and skin-on fries, twice-fried. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was the bread pudding with bourbon sauce, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

A perfect Sunday lunch, which is what I came for.