Cibrèo

Walking into Cibrèo 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: Sant'Ambrogio neighborhood warmth. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with chopped salad with too much bacon, exactly right, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered an Argentine malbec the waiter chose for me, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: tagliata, the dish that puts Cibrèo on every short list. It was, frankly, the best version of this cut I have had this year. The signature touch — Fabio Picchi's Tuscan playbook — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for fried okra and a dab of remoulade and asparagus with hollandaise. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was a slab of New York cheesecake, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I paid the bill, walked out into the Florence evening, and put the address back into the notebook with a star next to it.