It is not a kitchen, it is family.

Inside every dish is mum's oven, dad's basil, and that Vesuvius that looks down on us from afar and smiles.

Dad said flour should be understood, not measured - and in the meantime he kneaded as if he had to fix the world.

He made crooked pizza, never round, but good that felt like a handmade hug.
Dad spoke little, but when he kneaded he seemed to be telling us to love him.
prisco menu

It's not just tomato, it's mum's poetry.

Inside each sauce is the warmth of fresh tomatoes, and that magic touch that only family can give.

This is no ordinary sauce, it is Mama's legacy. In the sauce, freshly picked tomatoes, the passion of memories and the tradition of yesteryear come together.

prisco menu

It is not just bread, it is an embrace.

Each slice carries the warmth of grandma's oven and the authentic flavour of a tradition that speaks of two lands:
the Cilento and Naples, together in one bite.

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