Dal Pescatore or the very definition of hospitality.

There are houses one enters as if on a pilgrimage.
At Dal Pescatore, you don’t simply cross a threshold; you step into a living memory, that of a family who, for three generations, has written one of the most beautiful chapters in Italian cuisine.

Nothing here is ostentatious. Beauty hides in precision: the white tablecloth, the soft light, the gentle rhythm of a dining room that breathes. Antonio Santini, a tutelary figure, the pope of hospitality, doesn’t command; he watches over. With a look, a word, a smile, he makes you feel expected, recognized, almost adopted. At his side, his son Alberto continues the legacy with calm energy, youthful freshness, and a sincere passion for wine. His eyes light up when he speaks of a grape, a vintage, a beloved producer; you can read in them the quiet joy of living transmission.

And meanwhile, in the kitchen, Nadia Santini.
Her presence fills the house before you even see her. Calm, radiant, with that rare warmth that makes pleasure feel humble and generosity effortless.

She is surrounded by her son Giovanni Santini, whose precision and sensitivity now echo her own. Together they compose a cuisine of memory — but one in motion — a living tradition nourished by time and by the earth.

That earth is Cascina Runate, the family farm tended by Valentina, their daughter-in-law. It is there that vegetables grow, that the animals graze, that the ingredients are born: simple, perfect, essential. Nothing here is forced: everything comes from an ecosystem that breathes in rhythm with the house.

Dinner begins like a journey through time: a lobster terrine with Oscietra caviar, set like a jewel on a line of Tuscan olive oil. Then an autumn garden, grilled eggplant and burrata cream, an honest and straightforward tableau that speaks more of the land than of the hand.

The pastas at the Santini house are a work of art. The lasagnette with veal from Cascina Runate, turnip leaves, and Tropea onions; the pumpkin and amaretti tortelli, glazed with butter and Parmigiano Reggiano; everything breathes balance, tenderness, and restraint. The basil risotto with citrus cream and tuna bottarga is one of those dishes that suspend time, bright, clear, melodic.

The saddle of venison with Cabernet and wild blueberries, and the shoulder of veal with golden polenta, carry the truth of proximity: nothing is more noble than what comes from your own soil.

In truth, this dinner wasn’t a sequence of dishes; it was an act of generosity.
At the Santinis’, cooking isn’t a profession; it’s a way of being in the world. Their home doesn’t impose; it welcomes. It reminds you what the word service truly means: sincere attention, quiet grace, a desire not to shine, but simply to make others happy.

Dal Pescatore is a pillar, a compass, a living part of Italy’s culinary heritage.
A table everyone should experience at least once in their life to understand hospitality in its purest, most human form.

Betty Marais