Luca’s, Florence

My husband keeps faith with the raw and the saline; I pledge allegiance to heat and time. Luca’s, lodged within hotel La Gemma, settled the matter without a fuss, cooking for both our loyalties. We arrived weary from museums and miles, carrying Florence on our shoes, and chose the simplest solution: to eat where we slept, in La Gemma.

Luca’s carries a name that arrives before the man himself. Luca, the Cecchi family patriarch, never sat at these tables, nor did he watch plates leave the kitchen door, yet his presence is everywhere. To loosen Florence’s famously starched culinary collar, the Cecchis turned to Paulo Airaudo, an Argentine chef whose life has been a long, delicious tour. His cooking bears the marks of movement—kitchens crossed, cities absorbed, techniques borrowed and refined.

Amuse-bouches appeared in small bowls. An artichoke broth came first, carrying a restrained note of vanilla. Oysters followed, accompanied by caviar and champagne sauce. Antinori Tenuta Montenisa Marchese Antinori Cuvée Royale complemented the food—clean-edged and precise. Next came Tuscan bread: handmade grissini with a decisive snap, and dense sourdough as well. Amberjack paired with turnip flower, followed by tortelli with potato rerouted through vin jaune. A 2015 Mastrojanni Botrys entered in parallel, its blend of Moscato, Malvasia di Candia, and Sauvignon Blanc cutting through the dish with crystalline clarity. Monkfish came next—a roe-flecked reworking of bagna càuda—carried by chard and stitched together with razor clams. Alongside it, a 2020 Pinot Noir Bourgogne Maison Dieu from Domaine de Bellene was suggested, sampled, and enjoyed.

For dessert: a goat-cheese flan that replaced sweetness with composure, complemented with plum, honey, and oats. The evening closed with two digestifs: a pear-bright François Peyrot Cognac and a dark, reflective Naturale Amaro. Different dispositions, equal pleasure.