The Best Tuscan Food in Italy

The bread trolley alone, loaded with farro and rye loaves baked in-house, signals you're in for a long, considered evening. Il Piccolo Principe is the two-Michelin-starred fine dining room inside the Grand Hotel Principe di Piemonte, where the chef, Campanian by background, quietly makes the case for Tuscan ingredients through a lens that has nothing to do with rustic trattoria nostalgia. Three tasting menus to choose from, each progressively more elaborate.

Part deli, part trattoria, Da Burde sits just past the western edge of the city where the tourists thin out. The front counters piled with charcuterie and cheese aren't just decoration; they become the starters. From there it's braised meats, grilled meats, and the bistecca fiorentina as a matter of course. The wine list is broad and personally curated. Book ahead, because the regulars have no intention of giving up their tables. A Michelin Bib Gourmand.

The approach alone does some work: narrow lanes between dry-stone walls, fields stretching across the Baracchi estate, and then a Michelin-starred restaurant that pours wine grown just outside the window. It's an upscale Tuscan dining room with a firm sense of place, built around Chianina beef, pici, and herbs from the surrounding land. The olive oil on the table was likely pressed a few hundred metres away, which is either charming or makes you feel slightly underdressed.

A dirt road through the Sienese hills leads to this small fine-dining room inside a hotel, where a single blind tasting menu is the only offer and the kitchen doesn't take requests. The chef behind the two-Michelin-starred Krèsios runs this outpost, bringing the same surprise-course format south into Tuscany. Expect land and sea to trade places unexpectedly, with vegetables doing more heavy lifting than you'd anticipate. Il Visibilio holds a Michelin star.

Floor-to-ceiling windows frame Florence spread across the valley below, which is a lot to compete with for a Michelin-starred restaurant inside a boutique villa hotel. The open kitchen keeps things honest, turning out creative Italian cooking with a Tuscan accent, meat and fish alongside a serious vegetarian menu. The summer terrace, predictably, is where everyone wants to be.

A one-Michelin-star restaurant tucked into a tiny village on the slopes of Monte Amiata, where the kitchen garden doubles as the menu and the chef's own olive oil from Seggiano finishes nearly everything. The cooking is deeply Tuscan, precise without being fussy, and the room is the kind of elegant-but-relaxed that makes you forget you drove an hour to get here. Bread arrives as a statement of intent.

The menu is handwritten and changes with whatever came in that morning, which tells you what kind of restaurant this is before you've sat down. A small, softly lit Tuscan trattoria in Milan, Autem runs on the chef's personal flair, from the open kitchen where he greets you to the table where he'll likely check in himself. The cooking is focused and unhurried, the kind that makes a short menu feel like a considered edit rather than a limitation.

A bistro overlooking the Sant'Ambrogio market, which sets the tone for everything on the plate. The room is spare and the cooking matches it, straightforward Tuscan with flashes of imagination, the kind of place where squab turns up in agnolotti and feels like a completely natural idea. The wine list leans regional and runs across price points without making a fuss about it. A Michelin Bib Gourmand, and a small terrace for when Florence cooperates with the weather.

Counter seating on tall stools runs the length of the room, sushi-bar style, which makes for an odd first impression in the Oltrarno. The food, though, is straightforwardly Tuscan: a blackboard menu of ribollita, peposo, and pici that shifts with the season and whatever the chef feels like that day. No reservations at lunch, which keeps things lively. The Michelin Guide awards it a Bib Gourmand.

A Tuscan trattoria that's been around forever, set in a village outside Lucca where the owners also run the organic farm supplying the kitchen with wine, olive oil, and vinegar. The cooking follows peasant tradition closely, grilled meats doing most of the heavy lifting. The Michelin Guide gives it a Bib Gourmand. Outdoor tables in the village square go fast, so book ahead if you want to sit outside pretending you live here.

A family trattoria on the main street of a small medieval village, unswayed by trends and holding a Michelin Bib Gourmand. In warmer months, tables spill outside onto the street. The menu is rigorously Tuscan: crostini, ribollita, hand-rolled pici, braised beef, and when the season calls for it, wild boar stew. The kind of place where the cooking changes with the calendar and the village regulars eat like it's Tuesday, because it is.

An osteria tucked into a medieval hamlet off the Via Francigena, inside what were once a monastery's wine cellars. The format leans into fixed tasting menus built around whatever the kitchen garden is producing, with portions that suggest the monks ate well. The Florentine steak over embers is always on, and the cured meats and cheeses are made and aged in-house. A Michelin Bib Gourmand, with a terrace that earns the word atmospheric.

A 14th-century gamekeeper's cottage turned trattoria in the Tuscan hills, with a terrace that looks out over exactly the landscape you'd imagine. The Michelin Bib Gourmand goes to the chef's cooking, which is resolutely local: garden vegetables, nearby farmers, and the kind of seasonal Tuscan menu that doesn't need to explain itself. The cured ham plate alone will slow you down considerably.

Hams hang from the ceiling and bottles line the shelves, retrieved by staff wielding long tongs that slide along rails above the tables. This old-school Florentine trattoria has been doing Tuscan classics with no apologies for as long as anyone can remember: ribollita, peposo, cantucci with vinsanto, and a bistecca fiorentina that drives the bill accordingly. Michelin gives it a Bib Gourmand. The room is loud in the way a good trattoria should be.

Barrel-vaulted ceilings and a terrace shaded enough to actually linger through a long lunch set the scene at this old-school Tuscan trattoria in central Chiusi. The kitchen digs into regional recipes that predate most cookbooks, turning them out with the kind of generous flavour that makes you suspect shortcuts were simply never invented here. The Michelin Guide awards it a Bib Gourmand, which tracks.

A family-run trattoria in a Tuscan mountain village where mushrooms turn up in half the dishes because mushrooms are the point. The rustic dining rooms are unfussy, the pasta is homemade, and the menu runs from tripe to a long bench of meats without ever trying to be anything other than what it is. The Michelin Guide's Bib Gourmand crowd tends to find places like this before you do, but here you are.

A roadside trattoria in a small Tuscan village, the kind of place where the walls stay plain because the kitchen has nothing left to prove. The menu runs through regional classics, from pappa al pomodoro to tripe and lampredotto meatballs, and the wine list is longer than it looks once the host starts talking. The Michelin Guide gives it a Bib Gourmand, which tracks.

Cantucci and ricciarelli stacked near the entrance for sale set the tone before you've seen a menu. This is a Tuscan restaurant in a historic building on the edge of the city, the kind of place where meat is the point and fresh pasta is made the old way. The dining room runs classic and composed, service keeps pace, and the kitchen doesn't wander far from regional tradition. Private parking out front, which somehow feels like part of the personality.

The dining room feels like a private salon someone forgot to lock, all warm hush and gracious old-Florence manners. Cibrèo is a proper sit-down Tuscan restaurant that has been cooking the same dishes long enough to make that a point of pride, not a limitation. Pork liver with lemon, squab stuffed with mostarda, rabbit with sweet-and-sour onions: the menu reads like a letter home from a Florence that still exists here.

Stone walls and a terrace looking out over the Tuscan hills make Daniela the natural endpoint of a wander through San Casciano's cobblestone lanes. It's a cozy trattoria on the main square, the kind that keeps things rooted in local tradition, with handmade pastas, wild boar pappardelle, and roasted rabbit alongside a wine list that stays mostly in Tuscany.

The open kitchen greets you at the door at this old-school Florentine trattoria, which is either charming or alarming depending on how you feel about watching your lunch happen in real time. Pici, pappa al pomodoro, a proper bistecca, cantucci to finish: the menu is a short tour of Tuscan cooking done without fuss. Book well ahead, because the regulars have claimed their spots and are not moving.

The wine bar vibe across the Arno in Oltrarno gives way to something that eats more like a proper trattoria: cured meats, ribollita, roast pigeon with beans, cantucci dunked in Vin Santo. The room is casual and convivial, the cooking faithful to Tuscan tradition with occasional nods to something more current. An old-school spot that locals treat like a standing appointment rather than a special occasion.

A French woman arrived in Chianti, fell in love with the food, and never left. That origin story explains the warm, slightly unusual energy of this rustic Tuscan restaurant tucked into a tiny hilltop village outside Castelnuovo Berardenga. Stone walls, old rural objects, and a room that feels genuinely lived-in frame a menu of traditional Sienese cooking, the kind where technique is unhurried and ingredients are handled with quiet, unfussy care.

Tucked into a small medieval hilltop village, this agriturismo restaurant runs on produce grown right on the property, with a charcoal grill doing serious work on Tuscan ribeye and a spit-roasted pigeon and quail dish that earns its place on any table. The setting is rustic farmhouse with the views to make you forget about the drive. In summer, the outdoor tables under the lime trees fill fast, so booking ahead is the move.

A restored Tuscan hamlet perched between Montepulciano and Montefollonico, where the chef decides the menu each morning based on whatever the estate has produced. Dinner is al fresco in warm weather, and a glass of the sunset comes free. In cooler months the dining room looks straight into an open kitchen. The road to get there is genuinely pastoral, which is the point. Book ahead if you're not sleeping here, and don't expect a printed menu to study on the way.

The wine cellar sits in a vaulted space that's been around for centuries, which sets the tone for an otherwise modern Tuscan restaurant in a small Val di Pesa hill town. The kitchen riffs on regional cooking with technical confidence, and the pastry side, handled by the co-owner, has a playful streak, including a tiramisù finished with a whisper of tobacco. The wine list has grown into something serious over the years.

A small Art Nouveau villa in the Tuscan countryside sets an unexpectedly polished stage for a modern osteria with old roots. The menu leans heavily on meat, with Tuscan tradition doing most of the heavy lifting, and when hunting season rolls around, the game dishes shift things into a more contemporary register. A courtyard garden out back handles the warm-weather overflow. The wine list sneaks in a few French bottles, which feels almost rebellious given the address.

A nineteenth-century farmhouse on the quiet edge of Empoli, restored just enough to keep the rural bones showing. This is a contemporary Tuscan restaurant where the kitchen takes local, seasonal ingredients seriously without turning dinner into a lecture. The chef's pigeon dish, exploring the bird across five preparations, is the kind of thing that makes you glad you asked for recommendations. The estate produces its own wine and olive oil, which is a very Tuscan thing to do.

A fireplace warms the main room of this old-school Tuscan trattoria in the stone village of San Quirico d'Orcia, with a pergola garden out back for warmer months. The cooking is rooted deep in the territory: hand-rolled pasta, truffle, meats and game, the kind of menu that doesn't need to explain itself. A wine list heavy on local labels keeps the whole thing honest.

You'll spot the fridge of enormous Florentine steaks before you spot your table, which is Dal Toscano's way of setting expectations. It's a Tuscan trattoria near the Vatican, and the pasta turns out to be a serious sideline: silky fettuccine in a pale ragù, chewy pici with garlic the size of a fist. A kilo of bistecca and a carafe of Chianti are what the room is clearly built around.

A basement wine cellar a stone's throw from the Ponte Vecchio, Buca Dell'Orafo is one of the last old-school trattorias holding down the historic center. The menu reads like a Florentine time capsule: ribollita, panzanella, bistecca, braised veal in tomato sauce. Service can be uneven, but the room has the kind of unhurried, candlelit gravity that makes you order another glass and stop worrying about it.

A Florentine trattoria that styles itself a "culinary club," with Tuscan cooking as the anchor and regional specialties from across Italy filling out the menu. The chef chases obscure ingredients and small producers, including one aging cheese in Etruscan-era caves, which is exactly the kind of detail that makes nonna's kitchen feel like an adventure. The beef croquettes and the potato-filled tortelli are the things people come back for.

A handwritten menu posted outside lists what they don't serve: no pizza, no ice, no cappuccino, no spritz. Inside this tiny osteria a short walk from the Uffizi, the kitchen cooks old Tuscan with no detours, from pappardelle in duck ragu to peposo, a peppery beef stew that dates back to the Renaissance. The room fits a handful of tables, and the regulars treat it like a canteen they'd rather you didn't know about.

A tiny panino stall on the curb outside the Sant'Ambrogio market, run by a man who will tell you, without hesitation, that he makes the best sandwich in the world. The chalkboard menu skips the usual cold cuts in favor of things like stewed donkey with pear and truffle, or wild boar sausage with broccoli rabe. Order, watch it get assembled fast, and expect a small glass of wine to be pressed on you before you leave.

The wine list at this old-school Florentine trattoria skews heavily Tuscan, with enough bottles from the rest of Italy and beyond to keep things interesting. The kitchen takes homestyle Tuscan classics and nudges them toward something a little more considered, portions run generous, and the desserts are not an afterthought. Tucked into the Oltrarno neighborhood, it draws the kind of locals who treat a long Tuesday dinner as a reasonable life choice.

Sit on the sixth floor of Fondazione Prada's tower building and you have Lucio Fontana on the walls, a triangular terrace for sunset drinks, and bread arriving from the storied Marchesi pasticceria. This is an upscale restaurant serving modern Milanese food and seafood with a Tuscan coastal lean. The crowd dresses accordingly, and the art-world adjacency keeps things from feeling stuffy, which is its own small miracle for a place this polished.

Communal tables, no reservations, and a menu that shrinks as the morning goes on: Trattoria Mario is an old-school Florentine lunch spot near Mercato Centrale that fills fast with locals and tourists making peace with each other over Tuscan bean soup and bistecca alla fiorentina. The vegetables are, by tradition, cooked into submission, but nobody comes here for that. Come early, order the pasta with ragu, and accept that the best things will be gone by noon.

The dining room is a former anatomical theatre steps from the Duomo, and the vaulted ceilings and antique bookshelves make the setting feel theatrical without trying. Regina Bistecca is a wood-fired steak restaurant built around Tuscan beef, dry-aged and cooked over flame with the kind of restraint that lets the meat do the arguing. Chianti Classico and Brunello anchor the wine list. It landed on the World's Best Steak Restaurants ranking.