Scaturchio Pastry Shop in Naples: A Review

There are places that represent more than their physical reality. Businesses that are more than just simple shops: they are true pieces of history, foundations.

It doesn't matter that the Scaturchio family is no longer the owner after nearly a hundred years. Nor do all the corporate turmoil Scaturchio has endured over the years since the collapse of the original management. Nor does it matter the absurd overcrowding of the pastry shop's locations, now present: in Vomero (via Luca Giordano and, more recently, inside Castel Santelmo); near the Central Station, and in Piazza Amedeo. This is after losing, a few years ago, the service in the foyer of the Teatro San Carlo. Lock your doors tightly: if you live in Naples, we wouldn't rule out the possibility that Scaturchio might open a branch in your living room!

But here we are critics, not corporals. We won't be swayed by nostalgia or the fascination of history (even though this story encountered History and the First World War thanks to Giovanni, founder of the headquarters, second in chronological order). Despite being struck by such allure, or more likely by the liqueur of the famous Ministeriale, we will evaluate Scaturchio nowadays.

Scaturchio in Piazza San Domenico: ambiance, menu, and service

We're not leaving with a clear head. The outside tables are a bit scattered, almost intimidating in a square where they were seen as overbearing; the entrance is small and cramped (and without any accessibility guidelines, let's be clear!); the welcome at the counter, glanced at to get a feel for it before ordering, is cold, if not rude. We also take issue with the opening hours: unremarkable for a pastry shop that's also essentially a bar.

Despite these countless insults of fate that have already left us feeling like a boxer's daze, we sit down with aplomb. The music changes; the waiter, obviously well-versed in his field, while not exactly charming, is very practical and efficient. Taking our gargantuan orders isn't easy. Although initially enthusiastic, our good Francesco—as the receipt tells us his name—will loosen up during our long breakfast, launching into a few cautious, unobtrusive jokes. He's also quite quick. Incidentally, while only considering the historic location, we've also visited the ones on Via Luca Giordano and Piazza Amedeo several times in recent weeks: the service elsewhere is even more friendly and convincing, almost as if the staff were more committed to the project.

Scaturchio's menu is vast and consistently all handcrafted, without industrially processed ingredients. Although our stomachs often become a hut, we must set limits on what we can know and what we can eat.

However, we ruthlessly scrutinize all the prices: €3 for practically all leavened products and pastries suitable for breakfast, €1.80 for mini croissants and brioches; from €3.50 to €5.50 for larger pastries; €4.50 for a toasted sandwich, assuming you've even asked for a share! The coffee, at €2.50, is more disappointing; a little less could have been done.

Reasonable prices for table service: the impression is that Scaturchio, once perceived as rather expensive, is now perfectly in line with the new, rather arrogant Neapolitan prices; if not slightly lower.

Scaturchio's leavened goods and pastries: how much does breakfast cost?

Let's not waste any time: the calories awaiting us are many, many. A good, not burnt, coffee (a blend specially created for pastry making, 80/20 Arabica Robusta ratio), and... off we go: let the Trimalchionis breakfast bell ring!

The croissants were good, both the flaky ones and the Ischian version (a mix between a croissant and a brioche), but not particularly exciting. The braided brioche with jam was even better: not as light as we would have liked, but pleasant, with a balanced sugary kick.

The sfogliatella frolla and the babà were excellent. The second course was truly excellent, especially... and surprise! I, a Neapolitan since the days of the siren Parthenope, don't particularly like babà.

We couldn't get up—literally, because we were feeling a bit out of breath—without trying the Ministeriale. We ordered a small one, we were on a diet, and we didn't want to risk good old Francesco calling the bikini police. He would have thrown us in jail! Called "mini-ministerial" with a certain disdain for the cacophony, the dessert is elegant to the eye, fun to eat (with the crispy, textured chocolate shell), and pleasing to the palate with its liqueur cream, which, almost a century later, remains a mystery. Especially in its small version, and despite its name that sounds like a speech therapy exercise, the Ministeriale is always enjoyable, even in these high temperatures. Will the bill knock us out? No. First of all, because you can't kill a woman who died of fulminant hyperglycemia, and secondly, because €23.30 for taking over a historic business isn't a lot. Why didn't we become shareholders despite the 3,000 calories? Well, then, it's really true: never a joy!

Opinion

Scaturchio is a historic Neapolitan establishment that has endured many ups and downs and changed ownership. Despite all this, Scaturchio remains a landmark for the city, for tourists, and for Neapolitans alike. Paradoxically, it's the main location in Piazza San Domenico that's feeling the most tired, especially in managing the counter and reception. The Ministeriale, babà, and sfogliatella frolla are not to be missed. The leavened pastries are less enthusiastic.