There is a moment, between six and eight in the evening, when the caruggi change their voice. The sharp sound of shutters opening gives way to the clinking of glasses, and from the low doorways of old wine cellars emerges a mixed aroma of open wine, salted anchovies, and old wood. It is neither quite dinner time nor aperitivo in the Milanese sense: it is the hour of sciamadda, of a glass sipped standing up, of conversation leaning against a marble counter worn smooth by generations of elbows.
Genoa did not invent the aperitivo, but it has its own grammar of drinking and eating standing up that dates back centuries before the word “apericena” even existed. In the caruggi of the historic center, between Via del Campo and the narrow streets that slope down toward the port, old wine taverns still survive, which Genoese simply call “la cantina”—places where wine is sold loose or by the bottle and where a board of anchovies and cheese is enough to make dinner.
Osteria, trattoria, sciamadda: the differences that matter
Before heading into the caruggi, you need to understand the words, because in Genoa they are not synonymous. Sciamadda is the oldest and most Genoese term of all: it refers to ancient fried-food shops and wood-fired ovens where farinata, panissa, and vegetable pies were cooked, a name that comes from the dialect and evokes the very flame (“sciamma”) that burned visibly behind the counter. Today the term survives mainly in the historic names of some establishments in the center, rather than as a widespread category.
Twice25 & Rinina25, CC BY-SA 2.5, via Wikimedia Commons
The osteria, in its most authentic sense, is a place for wine first and food second: it originated as a shop where wine was sold by the glass, often from the hills of the Genoese hinterland or from the Riviera, and where food was an accompaniment, not the star. The trattoria, on the other hand, is real cooking, often family-run, with a more structured menu and full meal hours. In today’s caruggi the boundaries have softened: many osterias have expanded their food offerings, but the original vocation—wine at the center, food as a nibble—remains readable to those who know how to look.
The tradition of wine cellars in the caruggi
Genoa’s historic center, one of the most extensive in Europe, has preserved for centuries a network of small wine shops nestled between the palaces of the nobility and the homes of dockworkers. They were popular places, frequented by sailors, stevedores, and craftspeople: people drank a glass of loose wine, often from vineyards in the Golfo del Tigullio or Val Polcevera, and ate whatever was available—salted anchovies, a piece of cheese, bread.
This culture of wine serving has passed through the centuries, adapting but not transforming itself. Even today, stepping into certain caruggi wine cellars, you find the marble counter, bottles displayed openly, the delicatessen owner slicing by hand. It is an atmosphere that in Genoa is called, without too much rhetoric, “going for a little glass”—an expression that describes exactly this ritual: a small glass, often of Ligurian white wine, accompanied by something salty.
The ritual of the goccetto
The term “goccetto” tells the whole story in itself: it is not a full glass, but a measured pour, meant to be repeated several times over the course of the evening, perhaps stopping at different places. Genoese who practice this ritual rarely stay in one place: they move from one shop to another, a glass here, a snack there, like a small secular procession through the alleys. It is a slow way of socializing, the opposite of the frenzy of an all-you-can-eat aperitivo: here you stand, you talk, you get to know people.
ongchinonn, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
What to order: the canon of Genoese snacks
Anyone who walks into a Genoese osteria and asks for the menu risks disappointment: often it doesn’t exist, or is scribbled on a blackboard. But the canon is clear and has remained stable over time. Anchovies are the undisputed queen: salted, marinated in lemon, or fried, they come almost always from the Ligurian Sea and are the very symbol of poor cooking that became gastronomic identity.
Ryan Snyder, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Alongside the anchovies come cheeses: prescinsêua, a creamy fresh curd typical of Genoa, is spread on bread or found as filling in savory pies. A piece of more aged cheese from the hinterland is almost never missing, often from mountain dairies, served with honey or mustard. Ligurian cured meats—I am thinking of hinterland products like certain aged salamis from the valleys—complete the board along with taggiasche olives dressed with oil.
And then focaccia, which in Genoa is eaten at any time of day: the classic kind, tall, dimpled, oiled just right, or the kind filled to order with cheese or cured meats. It is not a side dish: it is a cornerstone. Many Genoese have it paired with a glass of white wine from early morning, dunking it in their cappuccino—a habit that makes tourists smile and that Genoese claim with quiet pride.
The right wine for the occasion
The wine that accompanies these small bites is almost always white, fresh, and unpretentious: a Vermentino from the Riviera Ligure di Ponente DOC, a Pigato, or — for those who want to venture toward the east — a glass of Cinque Terre DOC. These are wines designed to complement, not to overwhelm: their salinity dialogues with that of anchovies and cheeses, in a balance that Genoese people know by heart without needing to explain it.
Where to experience this ritual in Genoa
In the historic center, between Via San Luca and the streets overlooking Piazza Banchi, some of the city’s most authentic wine bars still survive today, where the marble counter and bottles in a row tell decades of silent history. They are small establishments, often without flashy signs, recognizable by the smell of wine and the hushed murmur of people standing and drinking.
CAPTAIN RAJU, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Another area worth visiting is around Via del Campo, where amid old shops and new openings, taverns coexist that have maintained the working-class soul of the neighborhood also told in the songs of Fabrizio De André. Here, the board of anchovies and cheeses is often accompanied by a glass of red wine from the inland area, served without much ceremony.
The Porto Antico area, finally, offers a more modern but no less genuine alternative: establishments that combine the traditional tavern formula with a broader selection of Ligurian wines on tap, ideal for those who want to discover lesser-known labels accompanied by small tastings of local cuisine.
Genoa tells its story at the table as well, and it is a documented tradition: already in the nineteenth century the manual La vera cuciniera genovese, published in 1863, codified the typical dishes of the city, a humble but refined cuisine made of simple ingredients, aromatic herbs, fish and filled pasta, inextricably linked to the sea and the commerce of the port — pesto, focaccia, pansotti, cima alla genovese, cappon magro, farinata, and sweets such as pandolce and sacripantina.
Hours, prices and atmosphere: what to expect
The taverns in the caruggi follow rhythms different from restaurants. Many open already in mid-morning for coffee and focaccia, close in the early afternoon and reopen around six in the evening for the time of the aperitif, remaining active until late evening. Prices remain generally affordable: a glass of bulk wine often costs just a few euros, a mixed board of anchovies, cheeses and cured meats hovers around modest amounts compared to a restaurant meal — the logic of these establishments is frequency, not a high bill.
The atmosphere is informal, often loud during peak hours: you stand, you share the table with strangers, you chat about this and that with the owner who often knows half his customers by name. Don’t expect ironed tablecloths or laminated menus: here the value lies in the authenticity of the gesture, not in form.
An insider’s tip
If you want to experience Genoa like a true Genoese, don’t go to dinner at eight as you would elsewhere: go for your first glass around half past six, when the wine bars are still quiet and you can exchange a few words with whoever is pouring. Order salt-cured anchovies even if you’ve never tried them this way: it’s the most genuine and least filtered flavor of Ligurian cuisine, and those who taste it for the first time often change their mind about what “preserved fish” means. And if the place doesn’t have a written menu, trust it: simply ask “what do you have today” and let yourself be guided.
A good reason to stay longer
Experiencing Genoa through its taverns means discovering a city that doesn’t rush, that measures time in glasses and conversation, not in schedules to keep. It’s an experience that is better understood if you’re not just passing through: if you have the chance to stay a few days in the historic center or near the port, you’ll be able to return to the same wine bar several times, become recognized, discover the menu that changes with the seasons of the catch and the inland area.
If Genoa is calling you with the smell of hot focaccia and the tinkling of glasses in the caruggi, we are here: book your stay in one of our residences in the heart of the city and let yourself be guided, evening after evening, in the slow ritual of the Genoese aperitif.
