Florence is a city of layers, of secrets folded into its stones for those who have eyes to see. The Piazza del Cestello is one such secret—a place where history and modernity embrace, where a saint’s bones rest beneath the same sky that watches over a chef’s masterpiece.
I arrived at the Piazza del Cestello as the last light of the Florentine sun gilded the baroque curves of the Basilica of San Frediano, and there, amid the whispers of history and the scent of the Arno drifting lazily through the streets, I found myself fixated on the church’s ochre façade. It stood like a silent guardian, its walls holding the weight of miracles and the breath of saints. The square itself was a hidden marvel, a pocket of wonders overlooked by the hurried steps of tourists rushing toward more famous landmarks.
But those who paused—those who allowed themselves to be seduced by the quiet magnetism of this place—would also discover Cestello Firenze, a restaurant where the sea meets the soul of Florence in an alchemy of elegance and tradition. Not another restaurant; but an act of faith—a belief that in a city overrun with the ephemeral tastes of tourism, something true could endure. The Corti family had staked their name on this conviction, and Gabriele Rastrelli, the chef whose hands transformed the sea’s bounty into poetry, is at the helm.
A convergence of land and sea guided by the Italian way of sprezztura—effortless sophistication. Each dish unravels a story of locality, seasonality, and a modern reinterpretation of classic Italian sensibility. The voyage begins with a smoked winter herb tart, a direct homage to the Tuscan winter orto (kitchen garden). Smoking, an ancient preservation method, is used not to mask but to elevate the robust flavours of seasonal greens, showcasing the region’s fundamental respect for even the most humble of vegetables.
The narrative of the sea unfolds with clever contrasts. The tennis ball shaped Baccalà mantecato (whipped salted cod), a staple of Venetian bacari, is reimagined with a vibrant passion fruit. This seems audacious, but it is deeply logical. The sharp, tropical acidity cuts through the cod’s rich, salty creaminess just as a squeeze of lemon would, yet it speaks a more modern, global language.
The Salmone Norvegese Roll with Patate Croccante Julienne, Gremolata di Verdura, Semi di Edamame, Radicchio e Spuma di Crescione is a lesson in texture. The choice of salmon, while Norwegian, is treated with an Italian sensibility. The gremolata—typically a mix of lemon zest, garlic, and parsley for braised meats—is here reinvented as a fresh vegetable confetti. The bitter radicchio and the peppery watercress foam (spuma di crescione) are not mere garnishes; they are essential bitter and pungent notes that balance the fat of the fish, a balancing act fundamental to Tuscan cooking.
The Capasante Scottata con Crema di Barbabietola (Seared Scallop with Beetroot Cream) is a study in elegance. The sweet, delicate scallop is seared perfectly—a simple technique done impeccably. It rests on a profound, earthy crema di barbabietola. The beetroot, a rustic, soil-bound vegetable, provides a stunning visual and gustatory contrast, grounding the dish firmly in the Tuscan terrain while allowing the jewel of the sea to shine.
Next, the Ravioli di Capra e Gamberi (Goat Cheese and Prawn Ravioli) is a nod to Italy’s pastoral heartland. The tangy, earthy flavour of goat cheese (capra) is a classic, often found in fresh pastas and salads. Paired with the sweet, delicate prawns, it creates a harmonious bridge between the inland hills and the Mediterranean coast, all encased in the universal comfort of fresh pasta.
The showstopper, Chef Rastrelli’s spin on the classic Fish and Chips: Storione con Wasabi e Ricotta di Albume, Crema di Astice (Revisiting the Classic: Sturgeon with Wasabi Egg-White Ricotta and Lobster Cream), is where Cestello’s creativity truly soars. Replacing cod with sturgeon from Italian aquaculture is a bold upgrade.
The “chips” element is ingeniously integrated into the batter’s texture. The wasabi-ricotta (a light, egg-white-based cheese) provides the familiar heat one expects from horseradish in a prime bollito misto, but with a Japanese inflection. The rich lobster cream (crema di astice) is the ultimate tribute, replacing tartar sauce with something unapologetically decadent and Italian.
Dessert continues the theme of sophisticated play. The Semi Freddo di Arachide con Composto di Passione e Nocciola (Peanut Semi-Freddo with Passion Fruit and Hazelnut Compote) combines the American peanut with the Piemontese hazelnut and tropical fruit—a celebration of global ingredients treated with Italian technique. The finale, and what lingers on palatal memory long after the meal is over, the Cioccolato del Brunelleschi—a chocolate mousse with a molten hazelnut heart—is more than a name.
It is a structural marvel, much like the Duomo itself: a seemingly simple exterior that reveals a complex and glorious interior, celebrating Tuscany’s most famous nut in the most delightful way possible. By the end of this experience, the essence of Cestello is revealed in its glory: a deep-rooted respect for the ingredient, a mastery of technique, and the creative confidence to write new poetry in Florence’s storied culinary history.
