Buono Da Leccarsi I Baffi: The Pleasure Of Licking What’s Left

When I first whispered “Buono da leccarsi i baffi” to Lovely after a particularly outstanding pasta I’d created, she looked at me with disgust. In fact, she might have responded, “Sei disgustoso! And it’s nothing to do with this incredible dish.”

There is a phrase in Italian. It is not subtle. Good enough to lick one’s moustache. We say it when the food is so good that decency loses the fight to appetite. When the sauce gets in your beard and the only thing left to do is lick your own face clean. Italian men understand things like that. I believe a woman should, too, if she has any real appreciation for culinary perfection.

Buono da leccarsi i baffi is a saying created by the celebrated moustache twirlers of history. It’s intentionally crass and not a phrase for clean eaters or menu influencers. It’s to reflect the kind of eating that might end in a stain or a sin.

I first heard this at home growing up in Sorrento. Possibly my father or my uncle complimenting my mother’s lasagne. I do remember my zio (uncle) always said it simply, with an explosion of  joy –“Buono da leccarsi i baffi.” Then he performed his magic trick. He licked the ragu and bechamel sauce from the ends of his long moustache twirling and poking them into his mouth. He was like a priest wiping the altar with saintly finesse!

A Phrase With Hair on It

I know this wonderful idiom sounds peculiar and ancient, so I wanted to share some musings about the back story. According to linguistic historians, it likely began appearing in vernacular Italian between the 17th and 18th centuries. It has no formal Latin ancestor (I studied Latin at school). Just a cultural truth: that when food is good, it deserves nothing less than undignified enthusiasm.

Validating my point, Italian language scholar Aldo Gabrielli defined it in his Dizionario degli Italianismi as “un piatto tanto appetitoso da meritare d’essere gustato fino all’ultima goccia, anche a costo di leccarsi i baffi.” (A dish so appetizing it deserves to be enjoyed to the last drop—even if it means licking your moustache.)

Here’s ‘salute’ to soul. Lick the plate. Lick the spoon. If the food’s worthy, suck on the damn moustache.

Leccarsi I Baffi For History Nerds

You can’t always find the phrase in books, but you’ll find it between the lines. In La scienza in cucina e l’arte di mangiar bene (1891), Pellegrino Artusi writes, “Il lesso rifatto con le cipolle, se ben fatto, ha un sapore che persuade anche i più diffidenti.” If you read closely, that’s a man describing something baffi-worthy. Artusi didn’t need to say the line—he cooked like someone who lived it.

In I Malavoglia (1881), Giovanni Verga describes a humble Sicilian meal of simple fish that “profumava come le cose buone di Dio.” You can hear it there, too. The unsaid satisfaction. The culinary theology.

And Carlo Goldoni, in his play La Locandiera (1753), writes of the hostess Mirandolina: “I forestieri vengono per l’osteria, ma restano per la cucina.” Foreigners come for the inn but stay for the cooking. If that isn’t code for licking your baffi, nothing is.

The phrase may not have appeared in the formal dictionaries until the 20th century, but it lived in mouths and on faces long before then.

Cat’s Whiskers Crept in But I’m Not A Believer

Some say the phrase originated from the image of a satisfied cat, licking its whiskers after a meal. In Italian, cats don’t purr—they judge. And when they lick their whiskers, it’s not for hygiene. It’s a statement. It says: I ate well, and I regret nothing. 

I’m not sure how credible this is, but that’s why someone clever came up with the term folk-law. Folk-lawists took the cat image and gave it a moustache in a more polite, poetic way to say “that was delicious.”

But from my perspective, Buono da leccarsi i baffi isn’t about manners. It’s about honesty. Food this good shouldn’t leave quietly. It stains, smears, clings, and it demands you notice.

Yes, It’s A Thing on Social

If you think this is just a quirky saying for aging Italian men in trattorias, you’re wrong. Buono da leccarsi i baffi is now mainstream.  Celebrity chefs adore proclaiming moustache licking as a national pastime.  Go online and you’ll find it on Google and Yelp reviews, cooking blogs, and Instagram captions: “Questo tiramisù? Da leccarsi i baffi.” And there it is, next to a selfie lit like a Botticelli painting.

People, it’s not gendered anymore. Sure, baffi means moustache, but no one checks your face before you use the phrase. So, for all those pronoun precious creatures out there…if you’ve ever eaten something that made you pause mid-chew just to murmur, “Mamma mia,” you’ve earned the right and it’s perfectly legit.

Use the phrase. Use it liberally. Not for any dish, but for the right ones. The dishes you talk about days later. The ones that stop the room. 

This is my Italy where “Buono da leccarsi i baffi” isn’t quaint. It’s essential.