“I am an artisan. I seek out and offer up “quality." All that I say and do are reflections of my way of working, my philosophy of life, and the passion that I bring to everything that I do. It matters less that my interpretation of “quality” is shared or understood; it must be experienced.”
~ Dario Cecchini

As destinations for carnivores of culture go, it is difficult to beat Antica Macelleria Cecchini, a tiny butcher shop in Via XX Luglio in the blink-and-you’ve-missed-it town of Panzano in Chianti, smack dab in the heart of Tuscany's Chianti Classico wine country.

This is the domain of Dario Cecchini, variously referred to as Italy’s most famous butcher, the Michelangelo of meat, or Poet-Butcher of Panzano. But none of these appellations really begins to plumb the mystique of the talented Signor Cecchini (pronounced chay-keeny), a personality so outsize that he dwarfs and defines the region over which he reigns. This benign sovereign has an international reputation that draws visitors and celebrities from every corner of the globe to the immaculately clean, white-tiled shop that is the epicenter of his kingdom. Here, they are likely to be treated to one of Dario’s impromptu recitations from memory of a favorite Canto from Dante’s Inferno as he stuffs sausages or carves up a rack of enormous T-bone steaks, or spot a famous face trading quips with the broad-shouldered proprietor as he holds court from a raised platform behind the counter.

Dario is blessed with a sense of humor and social prowess that transcend the fact that he is uncomfortable expressing himself in English, one of the few languages he does not speak well. On numerous occasions, I have fallen into the role of translator for tourists. His heavy Tuscan accent often makes it difficult even for Italians from other regions to understand him, but it is not really necessary to speak Italian to appreciate what this butcher and his shop are truly about. “Io sono un artigiano” (I am an artisan), reads the title of one of the various single page manifestos that line the top of the glass display case, Others are brief treatises on how to cook the various cuts of meat, sprinkled liberally with Dario’s Tuscan humor, which is even saltier than his Arista.

The term "Renaissance" is often used to describe talent or accomplishment in an individual. Dario Cecchini, with his proud Tuscan bearing, captivating rhythms of speech, and his philosophy, firmly rooted in 15th century Florentine Humanism, is a character that could have walked the winding streets of Florence five hundred years ago without seeming remotely out of place.

The story that Dario tells is that his mother wanted him to a work in a bank, and that she cried the first time his nonna (grandmother) made him a little butcher’s apron, because she desired a better life for him than that of a butcher. Dario was eight years old. He studied to become a veterinarian, but cut short his university career when a family crisis forced him to return to Panzano and help out with the family business. In the process, he discovered not only that he preferred carving animals to curing them, but that he also possessed a talent and flair for self-promotion. His enormous ego is exceeded only by the greater dimensions of his heart and generosity.

Several years ago, Dario decided to renovate the shop to look more like it might have 100 years ago (with state-of the art sound system and refrigeration, of course), using creamy white marble and tile to round out the effect.

In 2001, when the European Union banned the sale of meat on the bone due to its suspected connection to BSE, better known as Mad Cow disease (although the ban officially ended in March of 2004, for trusted customers of Antica Macelleria Cecchini, it never really went into effect at all, but you didn’t hear it from me). Dario, who built his fame on the classic Bistecca Fiorentina, a T-bone weighing between 2 to 4 pounds, decided to stage a mock “funeral” to mourn its demise.

In conjunction with the funeral, complete with casket, hearse, and memorial plaque ("Reduced to an invalid, she preferred death", it read) outside the shop, he auctioned off about 200 steaks, including one sold to Elton John for $4,600.00. All proceeds went to benefit Dario’s favorite charity, the Florence Children’s Hospital. This is the side of Dario that I love best. Once, when I was in the shop on a busy Sunday, an older couple came in with their daughter, who evidently had Down’s syndrome. She had seen Dario on Italian MTV (yes, in Italy a butcher's up meat and recite poetry on GenX shows), and just had to meet him. When the parents related the story, Dario wiped his hands on his apron, came around the counter, and hugged and kissed the girl, talking to her for a few minutes, despite the crowd in the shop. He then called for a clean apron, autographed it for her, then posed patiently for family photos.

This culinary Mecca is fairly busy during the week, but the weekend is when things really begin to kick into party mode. As you approach the shop, tucked away on a side street off the main square of Panzano, you’ll hear music wafting through the red streamer curtains that cover the entrance. It might be Verdi, Bird, Tom Petty, or Billie Holiday, depending upon Dario’s mood of the moment. A perfectly balanced blend of past and present, Dario’s collection of CDs is played through a lovely vintage tube amplifier which softens the digital edge.

I first met Dario about ten years ago. I was living in Venice at the time, up to my eyes in seafood, working at Ristorante al Covo with Cesare Benelli, who is almost to fish what Dario is to meat. Cesare and his wife Diane had introduced me to Faith Heller Willinger, a fellow New Yorker and expat living in Florence. Faith is another personaggio, or character. She has written several books about Italian food, countless magazine articles, conducts wonderful cooking classes, and seems to know every food-related person in Italy. She shares with Dario a bizarre predilection for combining red shoes with clashing ensembles. After complaining to Faith about the poor quality of meat in Venice, she insisted that I immediately visit her friend Dario on my next day off.

A few days later, I phoned Dario, who assured me in a booming voice that he would be delighted to meet a friend of Faith’s and see to my order personally. I drove the three hours from Venice to Panzano, arriving just before lunch, and located the shop with no problem. Getting into the shop proved to be quite another matter, however, as it was literally packed with people. Squeezing in, I saw that there were tables along the rear laden with cured meats, cheese, bread, and rows of wine glasses lined up in front of several 2 liter flasks of excellent Chianti from Dario's vineyard. Everyone was talking, eating, and drinking with abandon. It was obvious that the broad shouldered fellow chatting away merrily behind the counter and carving up a rack into five inch thick T-bones was Dario. I threaded my way to the counter and introduced myself. Grinning, he wiped his hands on his apron and rounded the counter, enveloping me in a huge bear hug, saying he’d be with me shortly. Two hours later, (and half in the bag from countless glasses of Chianti from Dario’s vineyard), I began to realize that this was no ordinary butcher shop, and that this was no ordinary butcher.

Dario’s conception of time is elastic, to say the least. The impatient customer is dismissed without a thought; those possessed of greater patience are treated to a sumptuous feast for the senses. For the eye, art lines the walls, complementing the edible masterpieces on display in the refrigerated cases. For the palate, there are the myriad flavors; red pepper jelly and local pecorino cheese, gigantic Arista, a roast pork loin stuffed with rosemary and garlic, “sushi” and "tuna" made from marinated beef and pork respectively, house-cured black olives perfumed with orange zest, Tuscan Finocchiona salami, redolent of fennel and pepper, and the list goes on and on.

Cecchini "virgins", those who are visiting the shop for the first time, invariably leave with gifts courtesy of their host, including small jars of Dario's Profumo del Chianti, a spice mixture that carries an admonition to "open only in case of extreme homesickness for Tuscany."
It's pretty good on meat, too.

Music and conversation are a constant counterpoint to the aromas wafting from the kitchen in the rear of the shop where various sauces and pre-cooked dishes such as Dario’s legendary Polpettone (a traditional meatloaf the size of a soccer ball) are prepared. It is also the staging area for the various events that are held in a room adjacent to the shop, built on a lower level. This room houses rotating shows featuring various artists, and doubles as a shipping area and event room. A huge plasma TV screen is fixed to the wall over a bust of Dante Aligheri, which may be playing a Humphrey Bogart film or slide shows of past events Dario has taken part in. This room has seen everything from classical music concerts to an evening of blues and Tennessee-style barbecue that Dario and I organized a few years ago, a surreal event where local farmers, artisans, and tradesmen feasted on baked beans and pulled pork sandwiches that I had brought from Nashville. Dario’s friend Giada played guitar and sang delta blues in a dead-on imitation of Big Mama Thornton, a feat made all the more remarkable by the fact that she speaks no English other than the songs she's taught herself.

In September of 2004, passing through Panzano on my way to Amalfi I stopped to visit Dario for a few hours. He told me that he had been invited to appear on NBC’s “Today” show in October. I remarked that it sounded like a lot of fun, and he replied that he wasn’t so sure, since the “Today” people seemed like a pretty squeamish bunch. I asked him what had given him this impression. Evidently, they had asked Dario what he planned to prepare on his segment of the show. When he told them “Sushi of Chianti”, they naturally wanted to know what that was. Told that it was chunks of very tender raw beef, threaded on skewers and marinated in olive oil and spices, they balked. This would never pass muster with the NBC legal department, they informed him; he would have to find something that could actually be cooked. Dario, after relating this story, mused aloud as to what on earth was the matter with these people, “they think nothing of showing all manner of human tragedy, bombs destroying entire cities, violent television shows where people are casually murdered, and yet they are afraid of a little raw meat?” Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he picked up his bone saw and continued separating enormous sections of Bistecca Panzanese, a medieval cut of meat that he has recently revived.

Under the watchful eye of Ann Curry, he wound up demonstrating Polpettone for the “Today” crowd.

Who knows how many delicate sensibilities were spared by this selfless act of mercy?