Trattoria Mario

A friend who knows Florence better than I do put Trattoria Mario at the top of a list of three. He was right, as he often is.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: lunch only, shared tables, no reservations. 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 a heavy California zinfandel, no apologies, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: bistecca alla fiorentina, the dish that puts Trattoria Mario on every short list. It was, frankly, the best version of this cut I have had this year. The signature touch — T-bone over chestnut embers, lemon on the side — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for thick-cut onion rings, stacked and grilled radicchio with anchovy butter. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was tiramisu, just barely too much, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

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