We ate some damn good meals in Sicily. From sampling the best seafood in the world in Palermo, wandering the markets of Syracuse, to sitting down at every trattoria that would have us, we were certainly not bereft on the food front during our visit. However, amidst the sensational food, gorgeous wine and amazing hospitality that we experienced here, one meal stands out. It wasn’t a white linen experience. There were no courses. Nobody cared if we left a review, and nobody was eating for instagram. It was perfect.

Heading to Syracuse? Read our guide on what to do in town here.

Paninoteca da Antonio e Daniele

**WHERE**: Syracuse, Sicily
**WHY**: Best panini in Italy
**TIME**: 1 night

A week into our trip across Sicily we arrived in Syracuse. Highly recommended and very, very pretty, Syracuse had been high on both our lists for some time, both of us excited to explore the island of Ortiaga, wander the old town, and eat a few decent meals. We’d been eating in the van for a week now, and both of us were keen for something local, something down-home. Yet, money was tight, our patience with pretentious dining experiences even lower, and our readiness for something a little bit more genuine running at a fever pitch. Late in the evening we pulled our van into a park right next to the marina on the island of Ortiaga, connected to the city of Syracuse by a series of thin bridges. Glancing across the water as we locked the van, Carlie spied a strange sight. A crowd of people gathering around what appeared to be an innocuous white building, perched precipitously over the fisherman in the water below.

‘What’s going on over there?’

‘Dunno.’

‘People are eating though.’

The next day we wandered the streets of Ortiaga, had an aperol spritz to die for, and ate some very, very good seafood. Yet, our curiosity piqued by the vision over the water, we crept over to the white building at noon. What it was was not imemdiately obvious.

‘Paninoteca da Antonio e Daniele,’ Carlie read.

‘Food truck?’

We googled fervently, and found that yes, yes indeed, this was a food truck. Memories of the crowds of people hanging round outside the night before, coupled with the absolutely stellar reviews online led us to a simple conclusion;

‘Tonight, we’re going.’

That night we slipped on over to the food truck. After having a few negronis over at Montalto Pub in the old town, we worked up a sufficient appetite to tangle with what we had heard was the ‘best’ Panini in Italy. Normally, I’d be sceptical of such a claim, yet, the bartender at the pub had assured us it was so.

‘Get the horsemeat,’ he had said as we paid the bill.

When we arrived at Paninoteca da Antonio e Daniele there was already a line. Stretching out from the counter, through the makeshift overflow tent and onto the dirty street outside. About the queue stray cats gambolled, teenagers smoked cigarettes and families chewed away at some of the most tantalising looking sandwiches I’ve ever yet seen. The men behind the counter were sweating away in a haze of smoke and frying, all of them looking like they were lifers at this; seemingly caricatures of who you’d expect to be working at a late night food truck. We waited, nervously checking the menu as the line surged forward. Everything looked good. Did we do as the locals do and opt for the ‘Caballo?’ Or did we play it safe, opt for chicken and mozarella? Our decision hung heavy over our heads as we moved through the line. Being Italy, the concept of ‘lining up,’ can often be tricky, so the line surged back and forth organically, families dashing to the front of the line to demand more ‘picante’ sauce, or changing their order. About us, very satisfies teenagers tucked into their food, enjoying the greasy treats with a relish that only made my stomach churn and rumble. Yet, our progress towards the counter was inexorable, and before too long, we were there. In broken Italian, Carlie ordered. We had decided not to go for the horse-meat. Neither of us could do it - one thought of the soft eyes of those ponies and I’m done, there’s no way I can pull the trigger on that. We ordered chicken and mozarella and the ground beef - both seeming like popular choices. Then, it was over. Being tourists, we were something of a novelty in there. The staff behind the counter discussed our order, pointing us out. I got the distinct feeling most tourists choose the over priced trattorias on the island, rather than lining up here. More’s the pity. We waited, sipping on a pair of beers, watching with anticipation as the families around us tucked into hearty feeds, all of them with that ‘Oh good lord, this is good,’ look on their faces that one finds so frustrating when waiting for their food. Amidst the horde of waiting customers we watched our food being made through the haze of smoke and people - it looked good. When we were called Carlie darted forward with an athleticism that scared the guy behind the counter. Yet, we had them. We had our panini’s.

To describe that first bite of the chicken and mozarella panini as ‘religious,’ would be an insult to the craft of the guys at Paninoteca da Antonio e Daniele. It was heavenly, yes, but also, so much more. It was divine, intangibly good, so tasty that I nearly wept. We ate our food, neither of us talking, stuporous with the flavours we were chowing down on. It was enough to drive me into a fugue, so good that writing about it now, I desperately wish to take the first ferry back to Sicily and get in line once more. the ground beef was excellent, tasting like the food you’d get if you’d been invited into a Sicilian grandmother’s kitchen and she’d decided that ‘you too skinny.’

After we finished, we retreated back to our van, satisfied, full and very, very content. Yet, an emptiness pervaded. Would we eat anything like that again? Could anything live up to the experience? It cost 10 euro, yet we were happier than had we eaten at La Bernadin - when would we get this feeling again?

In short, if you’re in Syracuse, you owe it to yourself to visit Paninoteca da Antonio e Daniele. They are open everyday of the week expect mondays, and open from 5pm to 3 am. They are located at Riva Forte Gallo, 2, 96100 Siracusa, which is right on the harbour, on the Syracuse side of the water, opposite Ortiaga. As far as a scenic location to eat goes, you won’t do better - the food truck is located right above the harbour, so you can eat your sandwiches and watch the fisherman bring in their catch while the sun sets. Or, if you’ve imbibed perhaps beyond your limit, you could stumble over here, grab the best late night food just about anywhere, and rest up for a spell before hitting bed - either is appropriate, and you certainly won’t be alone. The place is really, really popular with locals, and is reportedly busy every night of the week, so expect to queue for a bit. the wait will be worth it - trust me.

Looking for a guide to food and drink in Syracuse? Look no further, check out our post on it here. Looking for a guide on what to do in town? Hit the link here.

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