Traveling slightly south, the Torta della Nonna — a Tuscan grandmother’s pie made with pine nuts and custard — delivers a nostalgic middle note. Its simplicity is deceptive; behind it lies restraint, memory, and technique.
Then comes the Babà al Rhum, unmistakably Neapolitan. Soaked in rum syrup and lightly golden, it’s less of a dessert and more of a ritual — a holdover from Naples’ bar culture, where the babà lives alongside espresso, not at the end of a meal.
Finally, one arrives in Sicily, where Realmuto leans in with unmistakable pride. The Cannolo Siciliano features a crisp, delicate shell and is filled only upon order — avoiding the sogginess that plagues lesser versions. Nearby, the Cassatina Siciliana, a domed sponge cake covered in almond paste and dotted with candied fruit, adds color and complexity. Even the Biancomangiare, Sicily’s almond milk panna cotta, finds a place on the menu — a nod to Arabic influence and island restraint.
Each item is carefully labeled and served in a way that respects its origin, not overwrites it.
The Café Experience: Beyond the Pastry Case
While the pastries are the marquee, Realmuto’s environment is built for pause, not rush. Guests can pair their selections with a cappuccino, macchiato, or shakerato from the café’s full espresso bar, or opt for an Aperol Spritz, Negroni, or glass of Franciacorta to shift into aperitivo hour. For those looking to linger, savory options like tramezzini (tuna, egg salad, or vegetables) and focacce (with mortadella or stracchino and arugula) round out the experience.
The space is clean and understated, more Milan than Mulberry Street. It’s not performative — it’s intentional. There’s no music competing with conversation, no trend-chasing decor. Just marble counters, restrained light, and the quiet hum of a place that understands its purpose.
Realmuto’s Place in the Pastry Landscape
Dining and Cooking