Lo Saj: two years of Lebanese lunches in San Lorenzo — an honest review

There's a small Lebanese restaurant on Via delle Ruote, in San Lorenzo, that we've been eating at for two years. It's called Lo Saj, the bread is baked in front of you, and the short version of this review is the reason we keep going back: in two years, it has never once been less than exactly as good as the last time. This is the second review on Florence.city, and like the first, it comes with the same promise: we paid our own way — €41.50 for the family, in cash, receipt in hand — and nobody at Lo Saj knew this lunch was a review. The meals and the verdict are ours; AI only helped with the writing.

The place

Lo Saj sits at Via delle Ruote 40-R, a small, warm, cozy room a few minutes' walk from the market quarter. There's Lebanese-Arabic music playing — Fairuz, more often than not, and whoever doesn't know Fairuz, it's time they met her. The saj griddle is the heart of the room: a domed plate where the flatbread is stretched and baked to order, which means the bread on your table was raw dough a few minutes ago. We've lost count of how many za'atar sajs this family has ordered watching that griddle work.

What we ate today

Today's table, the 24th of July: my kafta con hummus wrap, a za'atar saj each for my wife and son, a small fattoush, and batata harra for the middle of the table.

The kafta con hummus is my order — it has been for two years. A word on the name, because it matters to me: kafta is the Arabic name for what is, properly, a kebab — spiced minced meat, grilled. In Italy "kebab" has drifted into meaning shawarma, the shaved rotisserie meat, and I quietly object every time; when I say kebab, I mean the real thing, and kafta is the real thing. What makes Lo Saj's version my standing order is the hummus it comes wrapped with: there's a slight sourness in it, barely there, and it makes all the difference — it cuts the richness of the meat in a way I haven't found anywhere else in Florence.

The fattoush was very fresh, and dressed the way it should be: with pomegranate molasses, which is more than wonderful. That detail is worth a sentence: debs al-roman — pomegranate molasses — is something Lebanon is famous for above all, and in Lebanese fattoush it's essential, traditional, non-negotiable. Here it's poured with a generous hand. The batata harra came exactly right: properly crispy, the chili warm but measured, nothing overdone. And the za'atar sajs disappeared the way they always do — though the tip we've settled on after many visits is this: add labneh to the za'atar saj. It's a wonderful addition, and I recommend it to everyone.

One more dish deserves its paragraph even though it wasn't on today's table, because we've ordered it enough times to vouch for it: the baba ghannouj. If you love grilled eggplant, this is mandatory — something from the imagination. Nobody can prove where the name comes from — the folk story goes that baba is the father, or an elder, and ghannouj means pampered and indulged; one telling has the dish named for an old sheikh who loved it. No hard history behind any of it, so take it with a smile, not as fact.

If I have one wish, it's not about Lo Saj at all: Florence still badly lacks a real veal-shawarma place, with tahini and amba bottles on every table — but I'll stop here.

The shop and the people

Half the room is a small Lebanese grocery, and it's dangerous. Bekaa Valley wine — Château Héritage on the shelf — Lebanese beer, bottles of araq (the anise-flavoured Lebanese spirit), sweets, za'atar, sumac, pomegranate molasses, vine leaves, nuts. Their Lebanese tahini is excellent; we buy it constantly for home, and it has quietly become our house tahini.

And the people are the other half of why we return. The owners are genuinely warm, and a special mention goes to Abd, the young man working there: on every single visit, you can see him caring about the quality and the details — the kind of care you can't fake and can't train.

Prices and practicalities

What things cost, from the menu on the wall today — with the standing caveat that prices change and this is a July 2026 snapshot:

Our whole family lunch came to €41.50, paid in cash. Two practical notes: Lo Saj is halal — confirmed directly, and worth stating plainly, because good halal answers in Florence are rarer than they should be. And yes, it's on Glovo — we've ordered that way — but in person is cheaper than the app and simply better: the whole point of this place is bread that's baked while you watch.

The verdict: consistency

Here is the honest spine of this review. What brings anyone back to a restaurant isn't one great meal — it's the absence of a bad one. Two full years of visits, and every single time: the same excellent taste, the same quality, the same care in the details. That consistency is Lo Saj's greatest strength, and it's the rarest thing in a city with this much tourist turnover. One honest caveat, because a review without one is just an advert: the room is small and it fills at peak lunch — this is a place for an early table or a wrap in hand, not a big-group booking. It's a restaurant we've returned to for two years and expect to return to for years more.

For the wider map of eating well here, start with where to eat in Florence — one of our Florence guides.