Vancouver Magazine
Opening Soon: A Japanese-Style Bagel Shop in Downtown Vancouver
The Broadway/Cambie Corridor Has Become a Hub for Excellent Chinese Restaurants
Flaky, Fluffy and Freaking Delicious: Vancouver’s Top Fry Bread and Bannock
Protected: The Wick is Lit for This Fraser Valley Winery
Wine Collab of the Week: The Best Bottle to Welcome a Vancouver Spring
Naked Malt Blended Malt Scotch Whisky Celebrates Versatility and Spirit
Coyotes, Crows and Flying Ants: All of Your Vancouver Wildlife Questions, Answered
The Orpheum to Launch ‘Silent Movie Mondays’ This Spring
5 Things to Do in Vancouver This Week (March 27-April 2)
What It’s Like to Get Lost on a Run With a Pro Trail Runner
8 Things to Do in Abbotsford (Even If It’s Pouring Rain)
Explore the Rockies by Rail with Rocky Mountaineer
The Future of Beauty: How One Medical Aesthetics Clinic is Changing the Game
4 Fashion Designers From African Fashion Week Vancouver to Put on Your Radar
Before Hibernation Season Ends: A Round-Up of the Coziest Shopping Picks
An Italian summer fantasy, available year-'round.
In my Italian summer fantasy, I’m lounging in flowy fabrics à la Gwyneth in The Talented Mr. Ripley. And while I can’t quite depend on Vancouver’s warm(er) months to deliver that kind of escape, I can find a taste of it at Chinatown’s latest Florence-inspired street-food joint, Fiorino.
The restaurant has an orangey-golden glow that’s visible from outside—it comes from contemporary Edison bulbs, but the effect is that of an old-school trattoria. The beige-and-white floor tiles, industrial-chic ceiling, mandarin-coloured leather booths and mismatched photos on the walls all add to the vibe: Fiorino feels like a space that’s been around for decades, though it only opened last October.
Lunch is decidedly sandwich-focused here: housemade focaccia is the base of each ’wich, with topping combos that aim to elevate the classics. The menu is all about “schiacciate” (or squashed) sandwiches. Not quite panini-style, the focaccia comes crispy-cornered and lacquered with olive oil, but still maintains a soft centre to soak up all the different spreads and cheeses on offer. The Michelangelo ($14) features ultra-salty guanciale and parmesan that’s muted just enough by the sweetness of honey; a rich crema studded with walnuts adds a key textural crunch. Cherry tomatoes up the acid, and the frisée (while not a traditional Italian ingredient) adds freshness without the peppery bite that a green like arugula would.
The Diavola ($15) is the aptly named devil to the Michelangelo’s angel. It’s a suckerpunch to the mouth with loud flavour and sharp spice—but hey, no pain, no gain. The scamorza brings a deep smokiness that’s brightened by the funky and heavy-duty spice of ’nduja red pepper cream. Soppressata brings an even fiercer heat, and in this case the peppery note of arugula feels necessary, not ornamental. The best part of both dishes is their composition: somehow, each bite feels like the perfect one. I never found myself needing to rebuild or angle the sandwich in an attempt to combine all of the best bits.
Take-out is an option here, making these sandwiches a perfect packalong to a summer park picnic. Add a couple sides of roasted potatoes or a piled-high panzanella and you’re set for an Italian fantasy of your own.