Il Palagio — The Silent Renaissance of Florence

Florence is a city that lives a fascinating gastronomic paradox: it receives over 16 million visitors a year, yet when it comes to cutting-edge Italian cuisine or culinary icons, its name is rarely mentioned. While Milan and Rome seduce with their gastronomic versatility, Turin reinvents itself as the capital of slow food, and even Naples conquers the world with far more than just Neapolitan pizza, Florence seems condemned to eternally serve Bistecca to tourists crowding around David and the Duomo.

The city has more statues per square metre than restaurants with original ideas.

Tourists still flock to everything the city represents — an open-air museum, the Uffizi, Renaissance masters — but often leave with bellies full of clichés. Many of them are good, no doubt. But unforgettable? Very few.

But it is precisely this lack of media pressure that allows places like Il Palagio to exist without haste, without affectation, and without the need to prove anything at all. In a country where each region showcases its specialties, like fishmongers at the market, Paolo Lavezzini has found the perfect frame at the Four Seasons Florence to, quite simply, whisper. With the aristocratic discretion that has long distinguished the city — the same that once hid Botticellis in basement vaults — Il Palagio presents itself as a natural extension of that heritage, and a rare exception in Florence’s culinary landscape: art for art’s sake, not for applause.

Vegetables as a manifesto

We began as few restaurants dare to start: with beetroot. Opening a meal with an entire series of snacks starring beetroot is not merely a naïve culinary choice; it’s almost a declaration of independence and personality. Chips, aspic, cannoli, tartlets — all designed around an ingredient often misunderstood, but which here proves Paolo’s deep commitment to small producers and seasonal ingredients.

What followed was a refreshing moment: grapefruit ice cream, chutney, mustard, saffron foam, lemongrass, and a dust that promised eucalyptus and turmeric.

A dish that could have easily gone astray, but remained elegant — a rare harmony between experimentation, flavour, and good sense. The pairing with an excellent Franciacorta Bellavista Vittorio Moretti 2016 acted as a diplomatic mediator between boldness and tradition, linking the creative gesture to its winemaking heritage with precision.

Bread, the humble revolutionary

Bread has become a “moment” in itself, often over-dramatised with mise en scène that restaurants feel obliged to deliver. Paolo has stripped that moment back to its essence. His faith remains in S.Forno’s production, now presenting an audacious miso and soy bread — because apparently, even bread can venture into the avant-garde without losing its soul. And this one was memorable, especially considering we were in Tuscany. Alongside it came two addictive types of grissini (they should be banned), the latest extra virgin olive oil from Torre Bianca, and three butters: classic, pumpkin, and sage — the latter tasting as if crafted by a perfumer switching trades.

Here, the wine — Marchesi de’ Frescobaldi Progetto Gorgona 2023 — was more than a pairing: it was a statement. Grown on a vineyard tended by inmates on a prison island. Besides being one of Tuscany’s most distinctive whites, it brings a rare social dimension to luxury dining.

Between sea and memory

Next came a scallop carpaccio with radish, an unexpected vintage Negroni sphere, and spirulina jelly. A dish that made us wonder what an underwater aperitif ceremony in Atlantis might taste like. It turned out better than expected, with the scallop’s natural sweetness balanced by the cocktail’s gentle bitterness and the earthiness of the spirulina.

The barley with grouper, passion fruit sauce, and rosemary was like aromatically encountering a Brazilian cousin of codfish at a family reunion. Familiar echoes with just enough tropical accent to make us question whether we’ve ever truly known what “home” means. The pairing with Morus Alba 2021 — a white full of personality from the magical Friuli region — should be required reading for sommeliers in training.

Truffles, the Azores, and the power of restraint

The salsify cooked with pear, orange, and a black truffle of absurd dimensions could have tipped into excess. But it didn’t. Paolo has already shown he knows when to stop — and in haute cuisine, that’s worth gold. A fine interplay of earthy notes, brightened by a touch of citrus.

To accompany it, we were served an Ameixâmbar 2021 from Adega do Vulcão — a wine that brings the Azores into the glass with a restrained elegance as beautiful as the landscape that gave it life.

Then came the cevadotto with lobster and shallots, where the creamy grain caressed the crustacean rather than suffocating it. A dish lighter than risotto, yet simultaneously mature, serious, and poised — like the Gevrey-Chambertin Domaine Henri Richard 2022 that paired with it. A Burgundy that enters in silence, like a blank stave, but builds in presence — a wine with a promising future.

Comfort and sophistication

Then came the pasta — that moment when even the most cosmopolitan Italian returns to childhood. Dischi Volanti with a sauce made from sausage ragù and sweetcorn foam — a dish that was both comforting and runway-ready. I could’ve easily eaten another half dozen.

The Brunello di Montalcino Tenuta Greppo 2017 by Biondi Santi reminded us that the classic can be as disruptive as the new — as long as it’s done with mastery, not marketing. And this Biondi Santi, though not a Riserva, needs no introduction: its name is synonymous with Brunello itself. A masterpiece.

The slow-cooked veal short rib brought final gravity to the savoury sequence. Celery, anchovies, and capers refreshed what could have been a heavy ending, and echoed through the sauce to enhance the contrast. An improbable, perhaps even divisive combination, but here it worked — a necessary anticlímax, a gentle, fresh brake before the sweetness ahead.

The chosen wine was the Barolo Coste di Rose 2020 from G.D. Vajra, which was less complex than the previous one but perfectly timed, with its refined bouquet and marked acidity.

Desserts without theatrics

After the gravity of the short rib and the levity of the Barolo, the menu turned a page — and opened space for sweetness.

No fireworks here, but a few surprises. First, a bomboloni with whisky and coffee — because sometimes revolution means taking a nonna’s recipe and dissecting it like a Renaissance artist.

Then, the unexpected return of beetroot — with crème fraîche and beetroot kombucha — because apparently, the evening’s first protagonist refused to exit the stage.

The Marsala Superiore Oro Riserva 2004 by Marco De Bartoli was the missing piece: aged, mysterious, with that quiet confidence of something that doesn’t offer itself — it insinuates.

What followed was a more traditional moment: grape, buckwheat crisp, and cocoa. Light and capable of concluding the meal on all the right notes.

Finally, the petit fours and coffee. The latter, a rare gem by Espresso Giada’s from Pistoia, is prepared tableside in a glass siphon. The final act of precision and craftsmanship. An ending that needed no applause — and yet received it.

Service — precision, empathy and cadence

If the dishes speak with subtlety, the service at Il Palagio is their perfect echo. Measured, composed, with assured movements and genuine smiles, the dining room team reflects the restaurant’s elegance without adding weight. And they do it without the choreographed performance that often haunts modern fine dining. There is cadence, attentiveness, and time. Time to breathe, to listen, to let memory settle between courses.

At the centre of it all is the impeccable work of Walter Meccia, the sommelier who signs off the pairings with confidence and imagination. A professional who listens to the dish and replies with wine, not with ostentation, but with intelligence, sensitivity, and purpose. The alignment between the kitchen and the glass was constant and often surprising, just as he had shown us in the past.

Final Considerations

Some restaurants we visit out of curiosity, others out of longing, and some teach us to return not from nostalgia, but because we trust them.

Il Palagio is a reminder that we should do precisely the opposite of the old saying that tells us never to go back to where we were once happy.

We returned, and found what we already knew — beetroot, grouper, barley, grapefruit, pasta, short rib — but now spoken in a new language: cleaner flavours, finer textures, more elegant compositions. A menu that breathes maturity and intention, where nothing is gratuitous and everything feels closer to the essential.

And then, there’s the service. From the first smile to the coffee prepared before our eyes, everything moves with cadence, precision, and empathy. Few things in a restaurant are better than a team that anticipates our needs before we even know what we need. And here, that art is taken seriously.

And at the heart of it all, Paolo Lavezzini — uninterested in being recognised as one of the great masters of contemporary Italian cuisine. He cooks with precision, thinks with depth, and serves with freedom. Effortlessly — yet with absolute command of his own language.

We’ll return. Not out of repetition. But because we now know — with absolute certainty — that the next chapter will be even more beautiful than the last.