After tasting copious amounts of extra virgin olive oil which had been generously drizzled over some fresh Tuscan bread, the time had come to tear ourselves away from the heavenly farm at which were staying, before we were man - handled of the property we dragged the inner children in us back to the car kicking and screaming, unbeknown to me these feelings of despair were about to get a whole lot stronger.
Being a newly appointed chief olive oil taster ( as i quite liked to remind R ever few minutes) my refined palate and i decided that there was no way i was leaving Florence with out a trip to Zeb ( the restaurant i mentioned in my last post), having somewhat slipped through our fingers on previous visits to Florence i was determined to eat at this much acclaimed restaurant.
As the previous day had fought with us so hard not to get to this restaurant, this day was the complete opposite. Driving into Florence was quick, traffic free and with out the road side beggars that so frequently ran to our windows at every traffic light we stopped at, on the hunt for a few euros. Parking (which is deemed near impossible at midday in most popular Italian city's ) was a breeze, a car pulled out just in front of us, freeing a space up that was a 30 second walk to the restaurant, someone was defiantly looking down us and from that moment on i knew we were not going to disappointed.
Zeb which stands for - Zuppa e bollito - soup and bollito, a traditional Florentine beef which is simmered in water and veg.
Their name says everything about their home style approach to cooking and food, keeping tradition at the top of the list as well as using top quality ingredients.
There was a chalk board full of dishes on the front of the window all of which i had completely no idea what they were ( again ashamedly due to my lack of knowledge of the Italian language) , taking our first steps inside your instantly relaxed by the white walls and gleaming stainless steel interior, a refreshing change from the wooden tables and the patterned table cloth's seen so regularly it Italian trattorias.With top class wines on one side of the wall and premium balsamic vinegars, excellent dried pastas and glamorous hand made biscotti adorning the opposite one you feel enclosed in a absolute Italian foodie heaven
Before taking our seat at the modern 50's style dining in front of the central galley, i couldn't help my self in piercing longingly into the delicatessen side of the restaurant. Rich with the finest mortadella, numerous types of prosciutto, thick wedges of proud local cheeses and an array of marinated vegetables and salads- i was in total owe.
Once seated the owner and the extremelyey talented chef Alberto Navari was quick to attend to us, unfortunately the language barrier was high but with a few points of the finger and nods of the head we soon had built up our own culinary language.
Right in front of where we were seated, three scrumptious looking dishes were begging to be picked, two of these consisted of the same ingredients just using different meats - Roast beef and roast chicken had both been separately topped with rocket, marinated artichokes, chopped tomatoes all of which had been dressed with lashings of Tuscan extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. In the third dish stood plump and juicy tuna meatballs which were gently nestled in a rich basil infused tomato sauce.
Personally for me, i was glad for the lack of menu, I'm notorious for lingering over long menus carefully pulling apart each dish and putting it under much scrutiny, so seeing these so freshly made dishes in front of my eyes i knew instantly which one i was to pick.
There was no waiting around, chewing on stale bread in baskets, as soon as we had made our decision the chef began plating up copious amounts of roast chicken, disappearing for only a second to drizzle some extra thick syrup - like balsamic glaze on top.
The rocket was not too peppery just a mild pungent taste that was complemented by the oak - roasted slightly smokey chicken, the soft glossy artichokes took only one bite before melting on your tongue, all this with the silkiest olive oil not unlike the one we had tasted in the morning, the amount of oil used may not have been appreciated by everyone but being newly appointed olive oil experts we now honour and respect the way in which it is used to finish off a dish .
Not wanting the moment to end i found myself ambling through my meal taking great care and putting my full dived attention into every mouthfull, that was until the other great chef in this marvelous establishment ( Albertos mum - Giuseppina ) walked down the central aisle carring what looked like a patisserie masterpiece, on first glance it looked like layers and layers of very fine filo pastry sitting on a deep shortcrust base of some sort ,finished with a light dusting of icing sugar. I do wonder now looking back whether it had all been planned - A chef to so casually walk right in front of us carrying a just baked incredible dessert -sweet aromas drifting behind and stopping in front of us as it wafted by, just so appropriately as we were finishing our mains.
I cannot think far back enough to remember the last time i indulged in ordering dessert, many moons ago i would easily finish my portion and anything else anyone had dared to leave behind, its only been in recent times since becoming a bit of a pathetic eater that my conscious would not even let me look at the pudding section off the menu, never mind order from it.
How ever as the holiday had continued i was starting to appreciate food again in a new light, how could i resist the temptation to have a slice of something that has not been pre made in some factory but has been lovingly put together by a affectionate mother and son team, who cares if the putting the cake on a stand directly in front us was a deliberate way to entice us - i was sold .
Served as quickly as the main the dreamy dessert was still warm from the oven, the layers of pastry turned out to be extremely finely cut pieces of apple all packed tightly together keeping upright by standing up on the most amazing thick and creamy vanilla custard and a shortcrust base.
Sharing may not of been the best idea we'd had, taking time between each mouth full i could suddenly hear a fork scraping against a plate. looking down there was one bite of paradise left, R's and my stares hit each other coldly, we may be head over heals in love with a extremely happy marriage but as Ive mentioned in the past food is our kryptonyte.
I tried the soppy eyes with the explanation that he should let me finish it as hes always telling me to eat normally - ' i thought you'd be proud of me for eating it' i said with a cuteness in my voice, thinking if i concentrated hard enough i could maybe make my eyes glisten with tears. He was nt falling for it, so began the scrabble and the discreet pushing into finishing it first.
Then it was gone, food finished, plates removed and drinks drank, this gastronomic marvel was about to end. feeling as though we had spent most of the day in their, only half an hour had passed and it was time to say good bye to the best food i had been served all holiday ( and at the most reasonable price ).
The love and respect that they not only showed for each other but that they showed in their food was an inspiration. Dishes just simply put together using only a small handful of the freshest ingredients and from what i could tell they change their menu daily as to what has arrived that morning, it s just a pity we had nt been earlier in the week or perhaps it was a omen to go on our last day and finish our holiday off with possibly one of the best meals Ive ever had.
Driving down the autostrade towards Pisa airport, staring at all the vegetable patches squeezed in some of the most undesirable places, i couldn't stop thinking about the whole concept and belief's of zeb. If i was to ever own my own small sized restaurant, Zeb is where i would found my inspiration and passion from. The ceased up cogs in my brain had just been given a well needed oiling and were starting to turn in a new direction.
Being a newly appointed chief olive oil taster ( as i quite liked to remind R ever few minutes) my refined palate and i decided that there was no way i was leaving Florence with out a trip to Zeb ( the restaurant i mentioned in my last post), having somewhat slipped through our fingers on previous visits to Florence i was determined to eat at this much acclaimed restaurant.
As the previous day had fought with us so hard not to get to this restaurant, this day was the complete opposite. Driving into Florence was quick, traffic free and with out the road side beggars that so frequently ran to our windows at every traffic light we stopped at, on the hunt for a few euros. Parking (which is deemed near impossible at midday in most popular Italian city's ) was a breeze, a car pulled out just in front of us, freeing a space up that was a 30 second walk to the restaurant, someone was defiantly looking down us and from that moment on i knew we were not going to disappointed.
Zeb which stands for - Zuppa e bollito - soup and bollito, a traditional Florentine beef which is simmered in water and veg.
Their name says everything about their home style approach to cooking and food, keeping tradition at the top of the list as well as using top quality ingredients.
There was a chalk board full of dishes on the front of the window all of which i had completely no idea what they were ( again ashamedly due to my lack of knowledge of the Italian language) , taking our first steps inside your instantly relaxed by the white walls and gleaming stainless steel interior, a refreshing change from the wooden tables and the patterned table cloth's seen so regularly it Italian trattorias.With top class wines on one side of the wall and premium balsamic vinegars, excellent dried pastas and glamorous hand made biscotti adorning the opposite one you feel enclosed in a absolute Italian foodie heaven
Before taking our seat at the modern 50's style dining in front of the central galley, i couldn't help my self in piercing longingly into the delicatessen side of the restaurant. Rich with the finest mortadella, numerous types of prosciutto, thick wedges of proud local cheeses and an array of marinated vegetables and salads- i was in total owe.
Once seated the owner and the extremelyey talented chef Alberto Navari was quick to attend to us, unfortunately the language barrier was high but with a few points of the finger and nods of the head we soon had built up our own culinary language.
Right in front of where we were seated, three scrumptious looking dishes were begging to be picked, two of these consisted of the same ingredients just using different meats - Roast beef and roast chicken had both been separately topped with rocket, marinated artichokes, chopped tomatoes all of which had been dressed with lashings of Tuscan extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. In the third dish stood plump and juicy tuna meatballs which were gently nestled in a rich basil infused tomato sauce.
Personally for me, i was glad for the lack of menu, I'm notorious for lingering over long menus carefully pulling apart each dish and putting it under much scrutiny, so seeing these so freshly made dishes in front of my eyes i knew instantly which one i was to pick.
There was no waiting around, chewing on stale bread in baskets, as soon as we had made our decision the chef began plating up copious amounts of roast chicken, disappearing for only a second to drizzle some extra thick syrup - like balsamic glaze on top.
Not wanting the moment to end i found myself ambling through my meal taking great care and putting my full dived attention into every mouthfull, that was until the other great chef in this marvelous establishment ( Albertos mum - Giuseppina ) walked down the central aisle carring what looked like a patisserie masterpiece, on first glance it looked like layers and layers of very fine filo pastry sitting on a deep shortcrust base of some sort ,finished with a light dusting of icing sugar. I do wonder now looking back whether it had all been planned - A chef to so casually walk right in front of us carrying a just baked incredible dessert -sweet aromas drifting behind and stopping in front of us as it wafted by, just so appropriately as we were finishing our mains.
I cannot think far back enough to remember the last time i indulged in ordering dessert, many moons ago i would easily finish my portion and anything else anyone had dared to leave behind, its only been in recent times since becoming a bit of a pathetic eater that my conscious would not even let me look at the pudding section off the menu, never mind order from it.
How ever as the holiday had continued i was starting to appreciate food again in a new light, how could i resist the temptation to have a slice of something that has not been pre made in some factory but has been lovingly put together by a affectionate mother and son team, who cares if the putting the cake on a stand directly in front us was a deliberate way to entice us - i was sold .
Served as quickly as the main the dreamy dessert was still warm from the oven, the layers of pastry turned out to be extremely finely cut pieces of apple all packed tightly together keeping upright by standing up on the most amazing thick and creamy vanilla custard and a shortcrust base.
Sharing may not of been the best idea we'd had, taking time between each mouth full i could suddenly hear a fork scraping against a plate. looking down there was one bite of paradise left, R's and my stares hit each other coldly, we may be head over heals in love with a extremely happy marriage but as Ive mentioned in the past food is our kryptonyte.
I tried the soppy eyes with the explanation that he should let me finish it as hes always telling me to eat normally - ' i thought you'd be proud of me for eating it' i said with a cuteness in my voice, thinking if i concentrated hard enough i could maybe make my eyes glisten with tears. He was nt falling for it, so began the scrabble and the discreet pushing into finishing it first.
Then it was gone, food finished, plates removed and drinks drank, this gastronomic marvel was about to end. feeling as though we had spent most of the day in their, only half an hour had passed and it was time to say good bye to the best food i had been served all holiday ( and at the most reasonable price ).
The love and respect that they not only showed for each other but that they showed in their food was an inspiration. Dishes just simply put together using only a small handful of the freshest ingredients and from what i could tell they change their menu daily as to what has arrived that morning, it s just a pity we had nt been earlier in the week or perhaps it was a omen to go on our last day and finish our holiday off with possibly one of the best meals Ive ever had.
Driving down the autostrade towards Pisa airport, staring at all the vegetable patches squeezed in some of the most undesirable places, i couldn't stop thinking about the whole concept and belief's of zeb. If i was to ever own my own small sized restaurant, Zeb is where i would found my inspiration and passion from. The ceased up cogs in my brain had just been given a well needed oiling and were starting to turn in a new direction.
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