All'Antico Vinaio — Restaurant in Milan

The All'Antico Vinaio in one word: HORRIBLE. They went viral on the internet and I came from Tokyo to Milan to try "La Tricolore" and "La Italiana". The tricolore (12€) was nothing special, it's not as big as in the photos, the price is high, it's not worth it. But the worst of all was the experience I had when I opened "La Italiana", it was horrible, they didn't put all the ingredients mentioned on the menu, it's VERY different from the photo and the ingredients they mention on the menu. Do you sell just by the photo? What's inside is different. I paid 12€ for "La Italiana" and I wanted it to come just like on the menu. I'm not Italian, I don't speak Italian, obviously I'm going to choose based on the photo on the menu. Why did you deceive me? Was it xenophobia? I felt deceived and robbed. I'm disappointed. Since I had ordered take-out of "La Italiana", I only noticed that the ingredients were missing when I arrived in Lugano. Coming back from my trip at 9:00 p.m. I went to the place to show the video of me opening it, I showed the receipt, and I tried to tell them what had happened, hoping that they would give me the correct "La Italiana" or a refund of €12 (because I paid for something and didn't get what I paid for), but they ignored me and even made fun of me. I'm going to post the video of the "La Italiana" that was given to me. I filmed the moment of the conversation with the attendants, but I won't post the video here so as not to reveal their identities, but I wanted to send it to the management of All'Antico. Please contact me, I want this to be resolved with...

We had planned to go to All'Antico Vinaio in Florence, and we were not even aware that they also have a store in Milan. By chance, we stayed at a nearby hotel. So, one rainy morning, we decided to go there, just before their opening time - luckily, no queues!. Once we had a bite, we understood what the fuss was all about. We tried numero 4, which contains prosciutto, smoked scamorza cheese, potato and truffle cream - amazingly delicious - the schiacciata bread was warm, crusty, and chewy. Very addictive. Prices were average - worth every penny. Location was easy to find - off via Torino. Service was good, very swift. The shop itself is small, with no seating area (that we were aware of). The only thing to keep in mind is, due to lack of seating/standing area, you might want to do take away and find other public places where you can eat. As the seating area in front, at Piazza Sant'Alessandro, belongs to a different establishment, and there was a sign specifically saying not to eat any sandwiches there. It was quite difficult for us, since it was raining - so we decided to stand and eat our sandwich in front of a shop next door (which we thought was closed for the day), until the shopkeeper came and said 'mi scusi!'. That was funny, but all good, we apologised and moved away. Other than that, highly...

Florence may have birthed it, but Milan’s got its own branch of All’Antico Vinaio and let’s be honest, it’s less a sandwich shop than a religion with bread as the altar. The line snakes out the door, a pilgrimage of tourists and locals alike, waiting for their communion: focaccia the size of your forearm, folded around enough cured meat and cheese to make a cardiologist weep.

This isn’t a dainty panino you nibble while scrolling Instagram. This is a meal that demands commitment, two hands, and probably a nap afterwards. The bread is warm, salted, olive oiled within an inch of its life chewy and unapologetic. The fillings come in slabs, not slices. Porchetta that drips down your wrist. Pecorino that growls back. Truffle cream smeared like graffiti from a kid who knows exactly what button to push to get your attention.

You bite in and suddenly you’re in on the joke the chaos, the excess, the glorious middle finger to moderation. It’s not refined. It’s not delicate. But like the best of Italy, it’s alive, it’s loud, and it makes you feel something primal.

In the end, you don’t just eat a sandwich here you surrender to it. And Milan, for all its sleek suits and polished runways, knows damn well that sometimes the most fashionable thing you can do is walk around with olive oil stains...