Dario Cecchini, the Butcher of Panzano by Kamin Mohammadi

When I moved to Tuscany as a teetotal vegetarian, I had little idea what an anomaly I would be in the region famed for the quality of its wine and the tenderness of its steak. The marvellous grapes of Chianti aside, I soon learnt that to eschew Florence’s eponymous dish, the bistecca fiorentina, was to commit a culinary sin almost as grave as drinking cappuccino in the afternoon – and in Italy there are no transgressions more serious than culinary ones.

Meat is so central to the Tuscan psyche that people here routinely address each other as ciccio (meaning ‘piece of meat’) and so, in order to be taken seriously by my Florentine friends, I was soon obliged to sample some steak which then had to be washed down with a sip of red wine. After a decade of avoiding meat, I was suddenly hooked on the tender, juicy taste, but it took a butcher to properly convert me.

Dario Cecchini is not just any ordinary butcher, he is known as Italy’s best butcher – which probably makes him the best butcher in the world. Cecchini’s passion for meat and the traditions of his homeland have not only made him globally famous but also persuaded him to open restaurants to extol the virtues not just of bistecca fiorentina, but other, lesser known, cuts of meat and recipes.

The Antica Macelleria Cecchini is an old-fashioned butcher’s situated at Panzano-in-Chianti. Situated exactly half-way between Florence and Siena, Panzano is vintage, idyllic Chianti country: a tiny stone town perched high on a ridge where the remains of a medieval castle overlook rolling green hills punctuated by groves of silver olive trees and rows of elegant cypresses. For seven days a week Cecchini presides over proceedings, towering over the counter as he jokes with customers and, knife always in hand, dispenses cuts of meat, telling stories as he goes, advising on cooking methods and sharing recipes that sometimes date back to the Renaissance.

Cecchini is a resolutely Tuscan character, with a booming voice, large expressive hands and given to quoting Dante as the mood takes him – although he does this less now that tourists turn up expecting him to espouse poetry with each cut. Nonetheless, a marble bust of the great man sits in the shop and Cecchini is not shy about linking his own talents with meat to the Renaissance masters and their skill with marble, paint and words.

Just as the Renaissance masters distilled traditional arts into something new, Cecchini’s talent lies in creating the same alchemy. Having opened his first restaurant in 2006, he has most recently brought the Cecchini passion and innovation to fast food, perhaps inevitable for a man who believes in ‘taking your passion to the limit’.

Last year, in a room above the shop, Cecchini opened Mac Dario, Cecchini’s own fast food joint, opened to prove that just because food is fast, it doesn’t have to lose any of the quality – or the Tuscan twinkle in the eye. Two menus are available; the basic one gets you a massive burger with roast potatoes, vegetables, water and red wine, not to mention being serenaded by the staff. The regulars at the large communal table say they come here not just because Dario’s good, but also because he is different; he respects tradition but is not bound by it.

Cecchini’s family have been butchers for 250 years and Dario is the eighth generation of Cecchini butchers. His education started in the family house opposite the Macelleria, where, with both parents busy at work, his grandmother was his main influence. “Most of my taste memories are from her,” he explains. “She was a great cook and it was from my family that I learnt how to use other cuts of meat apart from the bistecca cut. Nothing was ever wasted.”

Dario’s own career as a butcher began when he was 20 and his father passed away (his mother had died when he was 16) and he abandoned university to return to Panzano and take over the business. Born with “a great passion for living”, Cecchini turned his considerable creative energy to excelling in his craft. “It was inevitable,” he shrugs, “because it was my only way to express myself. My parents were dead and there was no money, so there was no choice.”

Dario Cecchini’s tongue-in-cheek approach made him a local celebrity when, at the height of the mad cow crisis in 2001, he held a funeral for the bistecca, afterwards auctioning off the last legal pieces of meat to the highest bidder. But, local celebrity or no, what really keeps people coming back is the excellence of his meat and the recipes he doles out.

Cecchini’s zeal for good meat is not bound by tradition either – he doesn’t use the Chianina beef usually favoured in Tuscany but instead uses a supplier in Catalonia, Spain. He explains: “I am not a racist. I don’t follow breeds. I want the highest quality meat available at a reasonable price. The most important thing is that the animal should have had a happy life.” Thirty years’ of experience means he can instantly tell how an animal was raised simply by looking at the meat itself.

In a bid to educate people about all those other cuts, Cecchini opened his first restaurant, SoloCiccia (‘Only Meat’) in 2006. In a building opposite his butcher’s shop, the surprisingly contemporary interior houses just a handful of communal tables, where a six-course feast celebrates every possible cut of meat except the bistecca.

Red wine from Dario’s own small vineyard flows, every dish is more delicious than the last, the customers joke and laugh and, by the time Dario appears to tell stories and make sure all is well, it feels like the most jolly of dinner parties. Leaving in the early hours, I am not only pleasantly full with one of the best meals of my life, but have acquired a bunch of new friends and a pocketful of phone numbers.

Of course Tuscany’s most accomplished butcher could not ignore the bistecca for long, and last year, Cecchini opened Officina della Bistecca, dedicated to the perfect bistecca. Served rare and accompanied by nothing but a drizzle of olive oil, this T-bone is the quintessential steak, and again, the reasonable prices, communal tables and fun friendly atmosphere perfectly enhance the meat.

The soulful butcher declares that he strives for excellence “for my own balance and harmony.” Glancing over his shoulder at the bust of Dante Cecchini adds: “I think it was a similar need that pushed the artisans of the Renaissance to create beautiful things. It’s saving my own life. It’s nice to get compliments but it’s not necessary.

“The most important thing when someone comes here is that I give them a taste of happiness.” And with that, Dario Cecchini slices up another bit of happiness for another devoted, happy customer.