Follow the Winding Meat Road (Boots in the Oven)

Dario Cecchini- the Dante quoting, cleaver wielding, madman of Panzano. The old school, didactic, proselytizing merchant of meat. The iconoclastic, larger than life, maestro of all things flesh.

Dario Cecchini- the most famous butcher in the world.

If you are a vegetarian on hiatus (or anyone else for that matter) and you want to learn about meat, this is the man that you go to see. Mario Batali and his salumi-vending father both seek Cecchini’s advice. Talented chefs vie to study under him. Basically, if you need to know anything about the various parts of a domesticated hoofed mammal, you should speak with Dario. We needed to know.

Two months ago, Dario opened a small restaurant called Solociccia (“only meat”) across the street from his macelleria, or butcher shop. The place does five meals a week; two on Friday, two on Saturday, and one for Sunday lunch. We called ahead and booked seats for Sunday- rumored to be the prime performance.

We began our pilgrimage to the Chianti hill town of Panzano early on Sunday morning. The bus left just after eight. Mme. Pants, new-guy-from-cooking-school-Mike, and I made our way on windy roads through the land of Sangiovese, terracotta, and suicidal bicyclists for just over an hour. We arrived to a lovely little village just gearing up for its big monthly street fair.

The bus deposited us almost right in front of the Antica Macelleria Cecchini, Signore Dario’s den of operation. It was early yet though, and we hadn’t steeled ourselves for the full experience. We chose instead to peruse the town and sample some of the many local products on display.

We wandered for several hours buying some delicious olive oils, wines, and jams. We also tried some local figs, prickly pears, and wild fennel pollen while taking in the shut-your-stupid-face-those-aren’t-real vistas.

We came across an hilarious cat ramp made out of wood and plaster feet that led out of a second story window. We talked to local artists and confused Irishmen. Life was good. We were starting to get hungry.

But here’s the thing about Solociccia: it’s not exactly a restaurant. In fact, the manifesto on the door proudly states “This is not a restaurant.” “It is the home of a butcher.” This being the case, things are done a little differently. The doors do not open until 1 o’ clock. When they do, everyone is seated communally and they just start bringing out food. There are no menus.

(Dario's Shrine to the death of the Bistecca Fiorentina after the EU outlawed meat served on the bone because of mad cow concerns.)

Since it was not yet one, we returned to the macelleria to do some recon and bide our time. This, my friends, was no ordinary butcher shop. It was like a tiny corporeal Disneyworld. We walked through the beaded entryway into a tiled room swelling with classical music. A small man started pouring us glasses of wine out of a huge bottle covered in straw.

A long beef and pork hors d'oeuvre buffet stretched across one end of the room. Cow carcasses swung gently behind a wood and glass door, while an aproned assistant threaded the crowd balancing a dozen head-sized meat balls on long plank of wood. Things looked promising.

We squeezed our way around the crowd and made for the food. The first thing we got our little paws on was one of Dario’s signature creations, Burro del Chianti. This fluffy white stuff is actually pig fat creamed with olive oil, a touch of vinegar, rosemary, garlic, salt and pepper. People all around us were eagerly stuffing their mouths with it and we quickly followed suit. Sweet Jeebus it’s good. Rich, herby, and slightly salty, you know you shouldn’t eat much of it but that doesn’t really stop you from smearing a little more on your crusty bread.

Next was the Sushi del Chianti, a mild beef tartare with a hint of lemon. This was followed by some small slices of polpettone, a ridiculously well prepared meatloaf served with a bright red and insanely delicious sweet, hot, and tangy mostarda. We finished up our grazing with a slice of tantalizingly tender finnochiona that’s flavor of fennel and black pepper really popped while still managing to blend nicely with the rest of the ground up business. This was a man who loved his meats.

Having managed to hold out until one, we made our way across the street to partake of the feasting. We arrived eagerly to a large glass door that was quite clean and quite locked. Oh right. Italy. I forgot. At one fifteen the doors opened and we were seated along with the rest of the gathered patrons.

The first things to arrive were quartini of the house wine. This was followed shortly by water and then a small wave of antipasti. The crostini di sugo were slices of bread covered with a beef ragu that was deceptively spicy.

The insalata medicea was a lovely mix of chick peas cooked with sopressata and then dressed with raw red onion, minced orange zest and olive oil. The chick peas were quite plump and held their texture nicely. The sopressata added depth while the piquancy of the onion and the aromatics of the zest made for a fun combination that made me shovel it into my face.

These were followed with a playful presentation of small meat balls wrapped around sprigs of rosemary. The meat was of extremely high quality, so in an effort not to screw it up they were served quite rare, cooked only on one side.

After the antipasti, platters of fiocco di manzo al forno appeared. These were juicy cuts of a prime rib that had been slow roasted in the oven. No real secrets to this dish, but the delectable crust that developed around the fatty outside bits brought at least one of our table mates to tears.

Accompanying the manzo al forno were several large tureens of caponata di verdure. This was blend of stewed vegetables including zucchini, eggplant, red peppers, potatoes and onions. For a meat man, this was a damn fine vegetarian dish.

Following this came some boiled beef with more vegetables in a green onion sauce or tenerumi in salsa verde. The cuts of meat were very cartilaginous. The whitish pieces were soft but they coated your mouth with a gluey sensation. The onion sauce was very onion saucy and while I’m sure it was all quite traditional I felt that this dish could have used some heat to pop it up a bit.

With the tenerumi they also brought us huge bowls of fagioli all’olio- white beans with oil. They were cooked to the right texture, but like many places we’ve tried them in Tuscany they were almost entirely devoid of salt. Again, maybe it’s traditional but come on people, break out the sodium! (I hear it’s not even expensive these days.)

The final dish was stracotto chiantigiano, a rump cut of beef braised long and low with Chianti, onions, and plenty of rosemary. The beef was tender and tasty, but I think the onions were the best part. They soaked up all of that yummy red wine and beef stock flavor and went all mushy-like. I didn’t do it at the time, but if you just spread some over a hunk of grilled bread you’d be dealing with some seriously formidable gastronomic pickins.

The meal was finished off with coffees all around and some delightful little olive oil cakes filled with raisins, pine nuts, and large strands of lemon zest. The cakes made a nice accompaniment as they weren’t too sweet and the citrus gave them an unmistakable bitter twang.

Now, properly stuffed for roasting ourselves, we rolled our way back onto the streets of Panzano. We did a little more walking in a paltry attempt to work off a bit of our gorging and then hopped the next bus back to Florence. The ride back was uneventful and truthfully it passed in a haze. Tiny pigs and cows frolicked around our heads as we replayed the day’s events.

All in all it was a fantastic experience which definitely shed new light on the traditional Italian love and respect for meat. Dario Cecchini is an impressive yard stick against which to measure all things butchered. And as an added bonus, we now don’t even have to eat for the rest of the week.