Drogheria della Rosa

There is no printed menu at Drogheria della Rosa. Emanuele Addone, who has run the place since 1994, walks to your table and tells you what the market gave him that morning — most days that includes the oversized tortelloni stuffed with zucchini flowers that regulars come back for. The room is a former drogheria, an old Bolognese apothecary on Via Cartoleria, its dark wooden shelves still lined with the previous tenant’s glass jars. A full meal lands around €45 to €60 a head.

The Kitchen

Emanuele Addone has been in charge of Drogheria della Rosa since 1994, and the cooking is unashamedly Bolognese: handmade pasta, market vegetables, and the offal and braises of Emilia-Romagna, recited at the table rather than written down. The dish that defines the house is the tortelloni — outsized parcels stuffed with zucchini flowers, or with an eggplant purrée, dressed simply so the filling carries the plate.

Beyond the pasta, expect Bolognese standards done with market produce: a ragu when it is on, seasonal contorni, and a short list of secondi that change with the day. Addone’s wine knowledge runs deep — he will steer you to an Emilian bottle that fits what you are eating rather than what costs most. A meal generally runs €45 to €60 per person before serious wine. There are no Michelin stars and no theatre here; the standing comes from three decades of consistency at Via Cartoleria 10, in the Santo Stefano quarter, a few minutes from the Due Torri.

The Room

The setting is the draw: a former apothecary kept almost intact, with tall dark-wood cabinets, rows of antique glass jars and a worn, lived-in warmth that no designer could fake. It is small and tables sit close, so the room is intimate and a little buzzy at full tilt rather than hushed. Lighting is low and golden in the evening. Dress is smart-casual — Bologna is an unfussy university city. Book ahead, because the handful of tables fill fast and Addone does not rush a turn.

Best for a First Date

Reserve Drogheria della Rosa for a first date because the room does half the work: the apothecary setting gives you something to talk about the moment you sit down, the close tables and low light make it feel intimate without trying, and Addone’s tableside recital of the menu turns ordering into a shared event rather than a silent scan of a card. Go in the evening for the candle-warm version, ask Addone for a wine to match the tortelloni, and you have a date that feels personal rather than booked from a list.