Casa G Firenze

Several roll-off-the-tongue Italian words I associate with Florence begin with the letter ‘g’. Say, ‘gioielleria’, hinting at the dazzling jewellery displays strung along the Ponte Vecchio; or ‘galleria’, like the many, many art-stuffed ateliers, studios, and museums worth setting aside plenty of time to peruse. For this particular sojourn in the cradle of the Renaissance, however, Ginori is the ‘g’ word I find myself repeating the most – in admiration for the ceramics-crafting family who gave Casa G Firenze its middle initial, and beautifully cast interiors. 

Arriving in the early evening, I follow the hotel’s handy self-check-in instructions, climb the residential-style staircase, and sink into one of the lounge’s pistachio-green sofas when the onyx-marble honesty bar catches my eye. Perfectly timed for aperitivo hour, I fix myself a spritz just as the sun starts to set, bathing the double-height ceilings in a golden glow while illuminating the intricate stucco detailing. Tempting though it is to stay on said sofa, my dinner reservation (made in advance from a list of in-the-know recommendations shared by Andrés, the hotel’s friendly concierge) is fast approaching. A quick dunk in my Superior room’s freestanding tub does the freshen-up trick (though I make a mental note to indulge in a longer soak the following evening), and I’m soon hot-footing across the cobbles and the Ponte Santa Trinita to buzzy trattoria, Il Guscio. 

Table secured, there’s no more need to rush – I’m now on Florentine time, which is wonderfully unhurried, encouraging me to savour each and every course. Contemplating what to order adds to the hours you could happily spend here – the menu and wine list is that good. But I eventually settle on fried artichokes with a creamy burrata dip to start, followed by lemon-zested melt-in-the-mouth meatballs and a medley of baked seasonal vegetables. A few glasses of Tuscan red and a homemade tiramisu later, my return journey towards bed is made at a decidedly more relaxed pace. Fittingly the Casa’s logo is a turtle – slow and steady really does win the race here.

Having ticked off the must-see sights (Michelangelo’s David et al) on my many previous visits to the city – most notably on Italian Liberation Day one year, when access to all the major attractions is free – I relish waking up without an agenda, especially as my room opens directly onto the hotel’s palm-shaded courtyard. Raiding the generous in-room supply of artisan sachets from La Via del Tè, a family-run teahouse not far from Casa G, I enjoy my morning brew of blended Boboli Garden-sourced herbs in the dappled sunshine. Breakfast is an equally leisurely affair, served in the palazzo’s former kitchen, which has been spruced up with Ginori porcelain (another ‘g’ word to add to the list) and pottery-depicting artworks. 

As delicious as the Italian pastries and fresh-fruit juices are, it’s those ceramics I’m really hungering for – prompting an immediate visit to the Ginori 1735 flagship store just a few doors down. Although the watercolour-inspired collaboration with Cabana, which I had been ogling online, isn't available to shop in person, there’s certainly no shortage of exquisite, handmade serveware to swoon over. Displayed in rooms designed to replicate the home, I work my way through the kitchen, dining room, and drawing room before audibly squealing with delight at discovering Luke Edward Hall’s Profumi Luchino and Il Viaggio di Nettuno collections. Jewellery boxes, trinket trays, scented candles (some in pastel-painted amphorae) and more impossibly pretty things designed by the British illustrator, in whimsical Greco-Roman motifs, are almost too much for this Classicist to resist. The price tags are hefty, but so is my regret at leaving without those bright orange dessert plates depicting the sea god Neptune in Hall’s signature scrawl.

Determined not to depart this treasure trove of a city empty handed, I make a beeline for the Santo Spirito flea market (held on the second Sunday of every month). Spurred on by the antique furniture back at Casa G, I comb through the stalls piled high with oil paintings, chess sets, candlesticks and figurines for hand luggage-friendly mementos. Some brass door-knobs in the shape of hunting hounds and a set of botanical prints make it back with me, and I later pick out a miniature blue-and-white vase at Mercato delle Pulci (open daily from 8am to 2pm, should fellow bargain-hunters be interested).

My hours of scouring in the unexpected April heatwave leave me in serious need of refreshment, which the hotel’s honesty bar (yet again) satisfies before dinner at B.O.r.G.O., another authentically Tuscan restaurant from Andrés’ list. Born and raised in Florence’s Oltrarno district where his farm-to-fork kitchen now stands, chef Gabriele puts on a memorable one-man-show, making his own sourdough from scratch, shaking up delicious Hugo spritzes, taking each diner’s orders, and cooking, plating and presenting every single dish himself. It’s recommendations like these that make a good hotel great (yet more ‘g’ words), and one of the many reasons to return to this superbly positioned palazzo — next time, with a larger, Ginori-accommodating suitcase in tow.