I need to talk to you about a five-pound porterhouse, an open fire, and a word that doesn’t really translate into English.

Bestiale. It doesn’t mean beastly, not really. It means unreal. Insane. The best thing you’ve ever had. And once you’ve cooked a proper Bistecca alla Fiorentina over live fire, you’ll understand why that’s the only word that fits.

This isn’t a fussy, chef-y version of an Italian classic. It’s what happens when you take everything I love about Tuscany — bone-in, thick-cut, cooked with nothing but fire and instinct — and make it my own. I mop mine with fresh herbs and baste it in good olive oil while it cooks, which isn’t strictly traditional, but I don’t really care. It’s how I do it, and it works.

Served alongside my nonna’s patatine fritte, fried in the same herbs that hit the steak — garlic, sage, rosemary — this is Tuscan steak frites, and honestly, France should be a little nervous.

The Steak: Bistecca alla Fiorentina

We’re talking a full porterhouse here, about five pounds, cut a full four fingers high. That thickness isn’t a flex — it’s the whole point. A steak this size gives you the one thing a thin cut never can: time. Time for a real crust to form without overcooking the inside. Time for the bone to do its job.

Here’s how I break it down:

5 Non-Negotiables for the Perfect Bistecca alla Fiorentina

1. Go thick or go home. Four fingers high, minimum. Anything thinner and you lose the whole reason this cut exists — you can’t get a hard sear and a rosy, rested center out of a steak that’s fighting for its life on a thin cut. Thickness buys you control.

2. Bone-in, always. The bone isn’t decoration. It insulates the meat right next to it, it holds and slowly releases flavor as it cooks, and — if you’re paying attention — it tells you how the steak is progressing without ever touching a thermometer. No bone, no Fiorentina. Simple as that.

3. Let the fire do the work, not you. Hard sear, both sides, and then stand that steak up on the bone to finish. That’s where people rush, and it’s exactly where the magic happens — the fat and flavor along the bone render out and baste the meat from the inside while it finishes. Don’t flip it every ten seconds like you’re nervous about it. Trust the fire.

4. Stop at medium-rare. It’s not a suggestion. I don’t care what your uncle says about “well done and juicy” — those two things don’t coexist on a cut like this. Medium-rare is where the fat renders properly and the meat stays tender enough to justify the price tag. Non-negotiable.

5. Rest it like you mean it. Walk away. Let it sit for a good stretch off the heat before you even think about a knife. All that intense heat needs somewhere to go, and if you cut too early, it goes straight onto your cutting board instead of staying in the meat where it belongs.

When it’s finally time to slice, cut it off the bone and against the grain, finish with a good flaky salt — nothing fancy needed beyond that — and that’s it. That’s bestiale.

The Fries: Patatine Fritte, My Nonna’s Way

People sleep on the fries. Don’t be that person. Good patatine fritte take real technique, and there are a couple of secrets that separate a great batch from a soggy afterthought.

• Blanch before you fry. Cook the potatoes low and slow first — this sets the inside so it goes soft and creamy, not raw and starchy, before the outside ever sees high heat.

• Fry hot, fry once the blanch is done. The second fry is all about color and crunch. This is where you get that shattering, golden exterior.

• Cook them in the same aromatics as the steak. Garlic, sage, and rosemary go into the oil, and the potatoes pick up everything the steak just gave off. This is what turns “steak and fries” into Tuscan steak frites — the two aren’t just served together, they’re actually talking to each other.

• Salt the second they come out of the oil. Not before, not five minutes later. The second. That’s when the salt actually sticks and does its job.

Bestiale

This is how it’s supposed to be. Open fire, good meat, a little patience — steak and potatoes, the way it’s been done for a thousand years.

That’s bestiale.

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The Full Recipe: Bistecca alla Fiorentina + Patatine Fritte

Serves 4-5

Ingredients — The Steak

• 1 bone-in porterhouse, about 5 lbs, cut 4 fingers high (roughly 3–3.5 inches thick)

• Coarse sea salt

• Freshly cracked black pepper

• Good extra virgin olive oil, for basting

• 4-5 sprigs fresh rosemary

• 4-5 sprigs fresh sage

• 3-4 cloves garlic, smashed

• Kitchen twine

• Flaky salt, to finish

Ingredients — Patatine Fritte

• 2-2.5 lbs Yukon gold potatoes, cut into thick batons

• 3-4 cloves garlic, minced

• 3-4 fresh sage leaves, chopped

• 2 sprigs fresh rosemary, chopped

• Neutral or olive oil, for frying

• Sea salt

Method — The Steak

1. Pull the steak out and bring it to room temperature, at least 45 minutes to an hour before it hits the fire. Season generously on both sides with coarse salt and pepper.

2. Build your herb mop: bundle the rosemary, sage, and smashed garlic together and tie tightly with kitchen twine, leaving a short handle to hold onto.

3. Get your fire ripping — you want a hard, direct-heat zone.

4. Sear the steak directly over the flame, about 5-6 minutes per side given the size, until a deep, dark crust forms. Dip the herb bundle into the olive oil and mop the steak every time you flip it.

5. Stand the steak up on the bone to finish, mopping again with the herbs and oil. Pull it around 120-125°F internal for medium-rare — it’ll carry over while it rests.

6. Move it off the heat, tent loosely with foil, and rest for at least 10-15 minutes given the size. Do not skip this. Do not rush this.

7. Slice off the bone, against the grain. Finish with a final drizzle of good olive oil and flaky salt.

Method — Patatine Fritte

1. Blanch the potato batons in water until just tender but not falling apart, about 4-5 minutes. Drain thoroughly and pat completely dry.

2. Heat your oil to 350-375°F for the second fry.

3. Fry the potatoes in batches until deep golden and shatteringly crisp, a few minutes per batch. Don’t crowd the pan.

4. While they’re still hot, toss immediately with the minced garlic, chopped sage, and rosemary — the residual heat blooms the herbs and pushes the flavor straight into the potatoes.

5. Salt immediately, right off the heat, while the oil is still glistening on the surface.

Serve the steak sliced alongside the fries, with any extra herb oil drizzled over both.

Buon Appetito!

In Italy, we have a word — ROZZO. Unrefined. No manners. No apologies.

It’s not really an insult. It’s a compliment for anyone who knows how to use it right. Rozzo is the cousin at the table who talks too loud, laughs too hard, and somehow makes the whole dinner better because of it. Rozzo is the dish that doesn’t care about your fork and knife etiquette — it just wants to be devoured.

This is that dish.

I’m lakeside, Green Egg fired up, and I’m folding mortadella like an accordion around shishito peppers, brushing it with a hot chili honey butter until the fat starts to kiss the flame. On top goes a salsa verde that I refuse to blend smooth — chopped rough, tastes rough. That’s the whole point.

Grab a piece of crusty sourdough. Sop up everything left on the plate. Rozzo doesn’t mean sloppy. It means honest.

Eat like it.

Spiedini di Mortazza

Grilled Mortadella & Skewers with Rough Salsa Verde

Serves 4 as an appetizer

For the skewers

• 1 lb mortadella, sliced about ¼ inch thick, cut into wide strips

• 12–15 shishito peppers (2–3 per skewer)

• Wooden or metal skewers (soak wood ones in water 20 minutes first)

For the chili honey butter

• 4 tbsp unsalted butter

• 3 tbsp honey

• 1 tbsp Calabrian chili paste (or crushed chili flakes)

• Pinch of salt

For the rough salsa verde

• 1 cup flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 tbsp capers, roughly chopped

• 2 anchovy fillets, finely chopped

• Juice of ½ lemon

• ⅓ cup good olive oil

• Salt to taste

To serve

• Crusty sourdough, grilled

Instructions

1. Make the salsa verde first.

Combine parsley, garlic, capers, and anchovy in a bowl. Chop rough — do not blend, do not process. Stir in the lemon juice and olive oil, season with salt. Set aside; it gets better as it sits.

2. Make the chili honey butter.

Melt the butter in a small pan over low heat. Stir in the honey, Calabrian chili, and a pinch of salt. Keep warm — you’ll be brushing this on while the skewers grill.

3. Build the skewers.

Fold each strip of mortadella accordion-style — back and forth like a fan — and thread onto the skewer, tucking 2–3 shishito peppers in between the folds as you go.

4. Grill.

Get your Green Egg hot and direct. Grill the skewers, turning every minute or so, brushing generously with the chili honey butter each time you turn. You’re looking for char on the mortadella edges and blistered, blackened spots on the shishitos — about 6–8 minutes total.

5. Grill the sourdough.

Last two minutes, throw the sourdough on the grill alongside the skewers until charred and crisp.

6. Plate it rozzo.

Lay the skewers out, spoon the rough salsa verde generously on the bottom of the plate — don’t be neat about it. Serve immediately with the grilled sourdough for sopping up everything left behind.

Rozzo doesn’t mean sloppy. It means honest. Eat like it.