Florence’s cobbled streets are made for wandering, and so is its food. If you have an appetite but no patience for a three‑hour lunch, there’s a way of eating here that has sustained workers and passers‑by for centuries. Street food in Florence isn’t a trendy invention; it’s rooted in cucina povera – “poor cooking” – a frugal philosophy shaped by generations of working‑class life, where nothing edible was wasted and every scrap of bread or offal was turned into something filling and flavourful. What began as necessity became ingenuity, transforming humble ingredients into dishes that locals still queue for today.
For centuries, tripe sellers and street vendors have been part of Florence’s everyday landscape, feeding workers with inexpensive, hearty food. Mobile kiosks selling offal, especially tripe, evolved into the trippai and lampredottai you see today, often run by families who have stayed in the business for generations, guarding recipes and techniques as closely as any fine‑dining kitchen. Ask about a broth and you might get a smile or a shrug, but you are unlikely to get the secret.
From market stalls to historic kiosks, these dishes still sit at the heart of how many Florentines eat. Here’s what to try – and why it matters.
Lampredotto
The fourth stomach of a cow is gently simmered for a long time in an aromatic broth, typically with vegetables and herbs, until it turns meltingly tender, then tucked into a crusty roll and finished with a bright green salsa or a touch of chilli. This is lampredotto, widely regarded as Florence’s signature street food and a classic expression of cucina povera, born from the need to make a meal out of the less‑prized parts of the animal. The working classes learned to transform what wealthier diners ignored into something rich, comforting and deeply savoury.
The name comes from lampreda, the Italian word for lamprey, a kind of eel‑like fish once considered a delicacy and eaten by nobles, while ordinary Florentines relied on offal instead. The slow‑cooked stomach, with its rippled texture, was said to resemble lamprey enough that the dish took on a similar name, a small piece of culinary irony that has lasted for generations.
Schiacciata Farcita
Schiacciata is a dimpled Tuscan flatbread brushed with olive oil and sprinkled with salt before baking; its name drawn from the verb schiacciare, “to crush” or “to flatten,” in reference to the way the dough is pressed out before it goes into the oven. Split and filled, it becomes schiacciata farcita – a sturdy, flavour‑soaked vehicle for Tuscan salumi, aged cheeses, peppery rocket and various spreads. Like much of the region’s bread, it has its roots in simple, everyday baking, evolving from a basic peasant staple into one of Tuscany’s most beloved and versatile specialties.
Coccoli
Coccoli are small pieces of yeasted dough, slid into hot oil until they puff up and turn golden, crisp on the outside and tender within. Traditionally, they are served warm with slices of prosciutto and a generous scoop of creamy stracchino cheese, letting you tear and layer each bite as you go. Today, they are a classic Florentine antipasto and have also slipped naturally into the city’s informal, street‑food style of eating.
You will find coccoli in neighbourhood spots and at stalls or simple eateries around Mercato di Sant’Ambrogio, one of Florence’s most traditional 19th‑century covered markets where locals still shop for produce, meat and cheese. They also appear regularly in wine bars across the historic centre, where many enoteche include them in aperitivo spreads alongside glasses of Chianti Classico or Vernaccia. The combination of hot fried dough, salty cured meat and cool, lactic cheese is disarmingly simple and addictive – the sort of thing that explains why Florentines see no need to constantly reinvent their food culture.
Pizza al Taglio
Florence is neither Naples nor Rome, and its pizza reflects that. Pizza al taglio here is baked in large rectangular trays, cut into squares or strips and sold by weight, designed to be eaten standing up or on the move. The crust often lands somewhere between the airy, tray‑baked Roman style and a focaccia base, with a noticeable but not heavy thickness that can support generous toppings.
Places like Gustarium, a short walk from the Ponte Vecchio, specialise in this kind of pizza, changing toppings to follow the seasons and what’s best on the market that day. Trays might be spread with mozzarella and wild mushrooms, roasted vegetables or simple blends of cheeses that nod to Tuscany’s dairy traditions, with the focus firmly on good ingredients and careful baking rather than strict allegiance to any other city’s style. It is pizza conceived for walking and wandering – which is, in practice, how most people enjoy it.
Gelato Artigianale
Artisanal gelato in Florence is a world away from supermarket ice cream. It is generally made with more milk and less cream than typical ice cream, churned more slowly so it incorporates less air, and served at a slightly warmer temperature, all of which contribute to a denser, silkier texture and more intense flavour. Many traditional gelaterie prepare gelato daily in relatively small batches, using fresh ingredients and recipes that families and artisans have refined over long periods.
When you are choosing where to stop, pay attention to colour and display. Natural pistachio should look muted and olive‑green rather than neon, banana should be pale, not bright yellow, and anything that appears to glow is likely made from industrial mixes rather than fresh ingredients. Classic flavours such as crema, pistachio and stracciatella remain perennial favourites, with seasonal fruits and nuts cycling in throughout the year depending on what is available. Buying a cone or a cup and eating it while strolling between the Duomo, Piazza della Signoria and the narrow side streets in between has become so ordinary a ritual that it barely feels like an event; it is simply part of how people experience the city.
In Florence, street food is not a lesser tier of cuisine or something separate from the city’s broader identity. It is part of the same story that runs from frugal cucina povera to today’s markets and kiosks, a continuous thread of resourcefulness and flavour that has endured because it still fits how Florentines actually live and eat.
