Turin is often described as one of Italy’s most exacting food capitals, shaped first by the refined tastes of the House of Savoy and later by the philosophy of the slow food movement. That heritage lives on in its grand cafés and historic restaurants, where dining can feel elegant and ceremonial. Yet that is only one side of the city. As a local, I’m far more attached to a humbler institution: the piòla.

Piòle were never true restaurants. They were modest places to drink a glass of barbera, poured from a small quarter-litre carafe known as a tubo, in rooms marked by decades of daily life. Regulars gathered to play cards, debate football or politics, and pass the time without hurry. Food, when offered, was straightforward and unfussy: anchovies in green sauce, hard-boiled eggs, cured meats, perhaps a plate of agnolotti stuffed with meat.

From the 1960s onward, many piòle faded as Turin polished its image. Some shut their doors; others transformed into more conventional osterie or restaurant spaces. In recent years, however, the piòla has resurfaced, sometimes preserved in spirit, sometimes reshaped with a contemporary touch. But where can you still experience something close to the original atmosphere? I set out to look for answers.

Caffè Vini Emilio Ranzini

Quadrilatero Romano district

Among the city’s oldest surviving piòle, Caffè Vini Emilio Ranzini stands on Via Porta Palatina, a short stroll from Piazza Palazzo di Città and the cathedral. I stop in with a friend for a merenda sinoira, the generous late-afternoon snack that can easily replace dinner.

The compact, timeworn interior fills quickly: students gathered in groups, couples leaning close in conversation, shopkeepers greeting one another across mismatched tables. Old photographs and framed newspaper clippings line the walls; behind the counter sit bottles of vermouth, amari and local wines (€2–€6 a glass).

In the display case are slices of semolina and polenta, fried meatballs, piles of friciulin (spinach or potato fritters), and bread topped with insalata russa or vitello tonnato. We order at the bar (snacks €2–€3 each) and carry our plates out to a small courtyard. Nothing feels curated or staged, just comfortably worn. The staff are relaxed, and if you’re fortunate, a local musician might start playing without warning. 7.5/10

Piola da Celso

Cenisia district

This piòla has relocated twice since opening in 1985, yet it has never strayed from its corner of Cenisia near the Corso Racconigi market. After founder Celso Chiantello passed away, his daughters Elisabetta and Marina, along with the next generation, took over.

They greet us like longtime friends. At 12.30pm only one table is occupied — three men who have lunched here for decades, chatting in Piedmontese dialect. Within minutes, though, the cosy dining room fills with families and groups of friends, and the noise rises in warm, overlapping waves.

There is no written menu; the meal follows a familiar structure: a few starters, several pastas, two or three main courses, and simple desserts. We begin with antipasti — vitello tonnato, tomino cheese, cooked salami and insalata russa — alongside house white wine. Peppers with bagna càuda, the region’s anchovy-garlic sauce, follow.

When Marina notices a slice of salami left untouched, she laughs and insists it be finished. Soon after, plates of agnolotti del plin and gnocchi in creamy cheese sauce arrive. The portions are generous; we can barely manage dessert, yet still share a slice of fruit tart. The total comes to €37 for two, and we leave understanding how loyalty is built. 10/10

La Piola d’le Due Sörele

Barca district

On Turin’s north-eastern edge, beyond the bend once nicknamed the “curva delle 100 lire”, La Piola d’le Due Sörele attracts both neighbourhood regulars and passing drivers. We show up on a Wednesday lunchtime without a reservation and are seated quickly as another table clears. Barbera is poured into a carafe while the set menu is recited: a choice of primi, a secondo with side dish, dessert and coffee — €12 each.

Workers on their lunch break greet the family owners by name. The space is roomy but packed, lively and constantly in motion. Plates circulate, tables turn over, and the courtyard settles into its own rhythm. It may not be historic, yet among locals it already feels iconic. My favourite bite is the simplest: crisp-edged fried polenta, soft at its centre. At the till, Gianni pours us a small glass of amaro to finish. 8.5/10

La Piola di Alfredo

Vanchiglia district

Just steps from the University of Turin on Via Sant’Ottavio, La Piola di Alfredo has long served as a gathering point for students, families and neighbourhood regulars. Operating in its current form since 1978, it keeps an easy, communal rhythm. I arrive at lunchtime on a weekday: one room is taken up by a graduation party, another hums quietly, and outdoor tables line the shaded street.

While I read the handwritten menu — carne cruda, brasato, hazelnut cake — a glass of Dolcetto d’Alba appears with bread and grissini. A diner at the next table offers a recommendation, and I follow it: tomino with honey and walnuts, then tortelloni stuffed with spinach and ricotta. The ingredients are few and handled simply. The bill totals €17.

The portions are modest, and the experience feels somewhat contained. As an introduction to the piòla world it works well enough, but it lacks the magnetism that draws you back repeatedly. 6/10

Osteria Antiche Sere

Cenisia district

Tucked along the narrow residential Via Cenischia, this osteria announces itself only with a hand-painted sign. I reserve three days ahead and receive a late 9.45pm slot. When we arrive, the dining rooms are already buzzing. Glasses of white wine are pressed into our hands, and we wait briefly beneath a vine-covered pergola in the courtyard before being shown inside.

Antonella Rota, who has managed the osteria with her family since 1990, moves confidently between tables, taking orders and exchanging words with guests. The restaurant began as a half-playful venture in a simpler space once closer in spirit to a piòla. Today, dark wood panelling, copper pans and antique clocks create a settled, traditional atmosphere. The menu shifts with the seasons but remains consistent day to day.

We share an antipasto misto (€18) with a quarter litre of red wine (€5). I follow with local cheeses drizzled in honey, while my partner orders rabbit braised in white wine (€17) with potatoes, the meat glazed in its cooking juices. Though already full, we are persuaded to try dessert (€6): panna cotta or torcetti served with zabaglione, chocolate and cream. We leave happily overfed.

The place thrives largely on word of mouth and is full most evenings. The easy rapport between staff and regulars is unmistakable — the kind of familiarity that ensures return visits. 9.5/10

Circolo Paracchi

Lucento district

At Circolo Paracchi, near the industrial landscape of Parco Dora, the piòla has not been reinvented; it has simply endured. Founded in 1927 as a leisure club for workers of the Paracchi carpet factory, it later evolved into a sports association with a straightforward kitchen.

Still operating as a members’ club, it feels like a self-contained world where regulars gather to eat, drink and play cards. We arrive without notice and ask if something quick is possible. After a moment’s hesitation, Rosa, one of the cooks, invites us in. A printed menu hangs on the wall, but we choose whatever is ready. Outside, beside a disused bocce court, we sit near a long communal table. Olives and cheese arrive with house wine, followed by a generous plate of pasta e fagioli to share — €10 altogether.

Before we leave, Rosa shows us memorabilia from the club’s long history. Outsiders are occasionally welcomed, she explains, but that is not the club’s purpose. A piòla like this is not a destination; it is a place of belonging. For one evening, we are allowed to feel part of it. 8/10