Trattoria Mario

I had been meaning to get to Trattoria Mario for years. I will not wait that long again.

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 grilled provoleta with chimichurri, 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. Cut through it and you found that deep, beefy, almost iron-tasting interior that only comes from time and dry air. 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 skin-on fries, twice-fried 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 vanilla ice cream with a shot of espresso poured over, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

If you are passing through Florence, do not pass Trattoria Mario by.