The Best Places to Eat and Do in Italy

A hillside farmhouse just outside Lucca, with a terrace that fills up all summer long. Cristiano Tomei's creative restaurant runs on a blind tasting format where you pick the number of courses and then cheerfully lose track, which is rather the point. The kitchen has a signature obsession with bitter notes and Parmigiano Reggiano, often together, and the Bistecca Primitiva has its own devoted following.

Grilled fish and a view of the Ionian Sea from a table right on the Salento coast, which is about as direct a statement of intent as a seafood restaurant can make. The kitchen keeps things uncluttered: the best of the catch goes over the grill, while shellfish get preparations spare enough to stay out of their own way. It's a room that has no interest in cleverness, which, here, is exactly the point.

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.

A family spent a lifetime collecting the fabrics and furnishings that fill this restaurant, and it shows: the room feels curated rather than decorated, all soft lighting and genuine warmth in a restored hamlet tucked into the Valle Cervo. The cooking is rooted in Piedmontese ingredients with a careful modern hand. Beef Wellington turns up as a statement of precision in a place that otherwise feels like someone's very well-traveled home.

The dining room sits seven metres below sea level, which tells you something about where you are before the food does. This old-school trattoria in the Po delta has been in the same family for generations, and the kitchen leans hard into the estuary around it: eel roasted with white polenta, clam pasta, sole with fresh mayonnaise. The room feels like someone's grandmother never quite let go of it, and that's the whole point.

A restored farmhouse perched above Lake Garda, with a veranda so close to the water it feels like trespassing on a painting. This is a family-run contemporary Italian restaurant where the chef works the regional traditions and his brother handles a wine cellar of over 1,300 labels, kept in a frescoed room downstairs. A more casual osteria runs on the floor above, if the mood calls for it.

A late-19th-century farmhouse on the Calabrian coast road, stone walls and wooden ceilings inside, a sprawling terrace when the weather cooperates. The kitchen leans on the Ionian Sea for its menu, so fish and seafood do most of the talking, though meat shows up for those who ask. A shop next door sells regional products, including bergamot from the groves nearby, some of it made in-house.

A wisteria-shaded pergola on a farmhouse overlooking the Sarca valley sets the scene at this alpine trattoria in Drena. The kitchen runs on genuine regionalism: carne salada cured in-house, char from local waters, Trentino mushrooms, and red berries and chestnuts grown on the family's own land. It reads like a larder tour, except someone actually cooks it all with care.

A roadside trattoria on the way to Pordenone where the kitchen moves comfortably between land and sea, shifting from hearty meat dishes to seafood pasta without missing a beat. Lunch runs leaner, both in price and pace; dinner stretches out into a fuller affair. The brothers who run it keep things personal without letting them get sloppy, which is a harder balance to strike than it sounds.

Two chefs, one from Calabria and one from Puglia, run the kitchen at this contemporary restaurant on a working wine estate in the Valpantena hills. Their menu pulls ingredients from the south and the land around them, including mutton raised on site and housemade spaghetti with 'nduja and smoked ricotta. The wine list leans local, with Veneto labels alongside a handful of French bottles.

Frescoes on the walls, herbs from the kitchen garden on the plate: this is a formal restaurant inside a villa hotel in the Veneto countryside, with a fireplace for winter and a courtyard for summer. The young chef grew up cooking here, which shows in dishes built around vegetables and local producers. The wine list leans heavily into Riesling if that's your thing. A bistro handles the lighter, more casual lunch crowd next door.

An 18th-century farmhouse in the Alessandria countryside, stripped back to clean lines and pale walls inside, which makes a quietly dramatic frame for Piedmontese cooking with a modern lean. This is a proper sit-down restaurant, meat-forward and rooted in the region, with a chef who adds just enough of a twist to keep things interesting without losing the thread. The kind of place where the room itself feels considered, and the food follows suit.

Photographs of old locomotives and rows of copper pots line the walls of this long-running osteria in Pordenone's historic center. The kitchen leans hard into Friulian tradition, turning out cured meats, local cheeses, and braised beef cheek with polenta, the kind of food that arrives in portions sized for people who actually work. The room runs warm and convivial, the way an old neighborhood place does when it has nothing to prove.

A contemporary trattoria a short drive outside Crema, with a minimalist room lifted by pops of colour. The kitchen leans on Italian tradition, leaning further into modern technique as the week winds toward the weekend. The wine list splits evenly between Italian and French labels, with a serious run of champagnes for a room this unfussy. Weekday lunches are the quiet bargain the locals already know about.

The restaurant sits inside a wine estate, so the list leans hard on Barbaresco and Barolo, with Champagne as the only outside voice. La Gallina is a contemporary fine dining room with a rustic-elegant feel, the menu circling Piedmont and dipping into Liguria and the chef's native Campania. A dessert that arrives disguised as a cappuccino and focaccia breakfast suggests the kitchen has a sense of humor about where it draws its references.

The Josper oven and a dry-ageing unit on site tells you where this contemporary Italian restaurant's priorities lie. Grilled meats, including prized Iberian cuts, anchor the evening menu, while fish dishes keep things balanced. Lunch pulls back to something more casual and accessible without abandoning the kitchen's modern technique. The room itself has an architectural edge that matches the food, a short walk from the center of Foggia.

Tucked into the Villa Bardini museum complex above the city, this creative fine-dining restaurant earns its uphill walk with a summer terrace where you eat among herbs and greenery with Santa Croce floating in the distance. The chef works through Italian culinary tradition with genuine curiosity, leaning on sustainable sourcing for meat, bread, and pasta. Several menus are on offer, including a vegetarian option, which feels less like an afterthought here than most places.

A piano sits in the corner of what looks like a large glass veranda, and in summer the whole operation shifts outside to a terrace shaded by lemon trees. This contemporary restaurant in a quiet residential neighbourhood away from the centre builds its menu around fire and the grill, turning out personal, market-driven dishes that don't feel obligated to Piedmontese convention. The all-female front-of-house team runs things with easy, unforced warmth.

The dining room sits over the excavated remains of a Roman villa, which makes the bread service feel appropriately humble by comparison. This is a sit-down restaurant in central Assisi, split between straightforward Umbrian cooking and more considered modern plates. The wine cellar is serious enough to be a destination on its own, and the setting, ancient stone and all, does most of the interior decorating.

Castelfranco Emilia is tortellini country, and this modern Emilian restaurant leans into that with zero embarrassment. The chef grew up here, and the menu reads like a love letter to the region, fresh pasta folded by hand, bollito misto served with serious sauces. The dining room is contemporary without being cold, and the service runs warm enough that you don't notice how long you've been sitting there.

An old mill on the edge of Pietrasanta, with wood beams overhead and a terrace that earns its keep in summer, houses this modern Italian restaurant where seafood is the clear obsession. The chef works both sides of the pass, often taking orders tableside, and the raw seafood preparations are where the kitchen shows off, small bites that lean creative without tipping into gimmick. Meat dishes round out the menu for anyone who needs convincing.

An old mill just outside Modena doing its best impression of Puglia, and pulling it off. This trattoria-style restaurant leans hard on the heel of Italy: stuffed peppers, fava purée with chicory, eggplant parmigiana, and meats cooked over live embers. Sitting in egg-pasta country and ignoring most of it takes some nerve. Desserts arrive in a basket, a pile of small sweets with dried fruit and chocolate, which is a fine way to end anything.

A bistro in the heart of Domodossola where the fish menu splits in two directions: Italian tradition on one side, the chef's native Spain on the other, with paella representing the home team. The room has been updated over the years, and in summer the terrace looks out over the old town center. His wife runs the front of house and knows the wine list well, which is the kind of detail that makes a place feel like someone actually lives there.

A deconstructed cannolo is the closing argument at this old-port Sicilian restaurant, where the kitchen runs from breakfast pastries through to whatever the boats brought in that day. The cooking is traditional island fare, the kind built around swordfish, bottarga, and fresh catch rather than culinary ambition. Warm, unhurried, and run as a family operation, it's the sort of place you end up staying far longer than planned.

A fire crackling at the back of the room is your first hint: charcoal-grilled meat is the main event at this old-school Emilian trattoria, which has been feeding the neighborhood across from the Abbey of Nonantola for generations. Fresh pasta, outstanding charcuterie, and a dessert trolley that comes to you round out the menu. The rooms are homely but cared for, with fresh flowers on every table, and the wine list runs deep.

A stilt house on the Brugiano Canal done up in colonial wood and Parisian brasserie details, which is a combination that shouldn't work but somehow does. La Péniche is a seafood and Mediterranean restaurant with a long à la carte menu running from a dedicated oyster list to Cantabrian anchovies and pata negra. In summer, tables out on the floating raft are the ones to ask for. Book ahead.

A lounge bar at the entrance nudges you toward an aperitivo before you've even found your table, which is probably the point. This Cernobbio bistro has a retro-modern room and a terrace that catches the lake breeze in summer, and the kitchen runs a Mediterranean menu with a light, contemporary hand. The crowd tends young and local, the kind who know the pasta already.

The rooftop of a former Fiat factory now hosts a botanical garden, and the restaurant one floor below it has made peace with that act to follow. This is a creative tasting-menu spot inside the Lingotto shopping center, with four menus ranging from Piedmontese classics to a vegetarian garden tour to a blind "trust the kitchen" option. Everything is also available à la carte, which is a rare and civilized gesture.

The building itself spans Via Stalingrado like a bridge, which sets the tone before you've ordered anything. By day it runs as a casual bistro with straightforward plates; by evening the room shifts into creative modern dining, all warm wood and a mostly female front-of-house team who seem to actually enjoy being there. The kitchen draws from Emilian tradition and then quietly departs from it, mixing regional references with a chef's own restless curiosity.

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.

Half deli, half bistro, with the kitchen deciding which half you're in based on the hour. At lunch it's a casual counter among local salumi and cheeses; come evening, the shop quiets down and wooden tables and soft lighting take over for proper Calabrian cooking with a contemporary edge. The fish is aged on site, and the menu moves between local catch and the occasional Wagyu cut, which feels like a reasonable range of ambition for one room.

A seafood trattoria where the menu is mostly a suggestion and the real action is whatever came off the truck that morning. The cooking pulls from Sardinia and broader Italian tradition, clean and unadorned. Regulars let the owner steer, which is the correct move. The roasted turbot with porcini and potatoes is about as fussy as it gets, and that tells you everything about the kitchen's general philosophy.

A compact modern Sardinian restaurant steps from Alghero's seafront, where the menu shifts between tasting routes named for roots, revolution, coast, and courtyard. Each path traces a different logic of the island, vegetables one way, local fish another, tradition a third. All wines pour by the glass, and the sommelier seems to genuinely enjoy being asked. The room is small enough that the kitchen's intentions land at the table without getting lost.

Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the Langhe hills so completely that lunch feels like eating inside a landscape painting. This is a small Piedmontese restaurant where the chef, originally from Puglia, landed in the Langhe by way of stints in England and never quite left. The cooking stays rooted in local tradition without being a museum piece. In good weather, the outdoor terrace is the obvious place to be.

Tables on the terrace look straight down to the sea, with Positano lit up below like someone arranged it for effect. This is the gourmet restaurant inside Le Agavi Hotel, where the kitchen runs Campanian flavors through a quietly modern sensibility. The wine list wanders well beyond Italy, with a particular soft spot for Champagne rosés, and the sommelier guides pairings with the kind of ease that makes you feel like you chose well yourself.

A small seafood restaurant perched above its own private beach club in Golfo Aranci, La Spigola serves modern Sardinian cooking built around whatever came off local boats. The dining room looks straight out over the water, and the sea does most of the decorating. The wine list is relaxed until the last few pages, where aged bottles from the 1970s and 80s appear as if someone forgot to stop collecting.

Hundreds of candles are lit by hand every evening, which tells you something about the ambitions of the room before the food arrives. La Sponda is the fine-dining restaurant inside Le Sirenuse, with a terrace that looks out over Positano's pastel houses stacked up the cliff. The kitchen leans into southern Italian flavors, Campanian produce, the kind of cooking that feels inevitable once you're sitting there watching the coast go dark.