Trattoria Mario

It rained the whole afternoon I spent at Trattoria Mario, and I cannot now imagine eating there in any other weather.

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 bone marrow with a small salad of capers and parsley, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Burgundy that arrived too cold and rewarded patience, 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 broiled tomato with a breadcrumb cap and thick-cut onion rings, stacked. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was crème brûlée with a proper glass crust, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

Some places earn their reputation. Trattoria Mario earns it twice over.