At Winter Park’s Luca Turci (153 E Morse Blvd.), the Italian venture that replaced the patently awful Braccia, an arched trellis marqueed with the words “Fresh Pasta” in neon pink frames the entryway into the restaurant via the hostess stand checkpoint. It also happens to be the way out, but the narrow path isn’t nearly wide enough to accommodate two-way traffic, which forced us to bottleneck our way into the dining room. Not exactly the best first impression.
Inside, the decor and trimmings remain as they were in the Braccia era, right down to the bamboo cage pendant lights and, oof, that fake grass wall. And while a darker paint job raises the swank meter, I was more interested in seeing how the fare measured up against owner Vinicius Turci’s other Italian restaurant — Turci Pasta in College Park. But first we were given a semi-stern talk by our vested server about how the $59 prix-fixe menu was not to be split, and that we would be charged regular menu prices should we violate the rules by sharing. Needless to say, we opted for the regular menu.
After a complimentary serving of underseasoned and dense focaccia that was neither airy nor springy, the food took a turn for the better. First, thinly shaved pears forming a nicely finessed meatless carpaccio ($19) was marred only by the name given to the dish — “sex appear” (get it?). Walnuts and gorgonzola, along with drizzles of truffle honey and balsamic lent the starter its name, I suppose.
To me the fried burrata ($20) nestled in a rich Bolognese looked a lot more seductive, a trait that carried through to the lamb shank ($55) lying in repose on a bed of saffron risotto. It’s an absolute beauty, and one I enjoyed even more than the lamb shank served over pappardelle at Turci Pasta.

On the sweeter front, I thought I’d order the cannoli ($8) and tiramisu ($12) and com- pare them to the versions served at Turci Pasta. Belgian milk chocolate chips were used in Luca’s version, we were told, but I preferred the tubular pastries served in College Park. Maybe it was their dark chocolate chips, or their tableside preparation. Meanwhile, Luca’s tiramisu is served in a small terracotta planter. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. The “soil” on the surface was cacao nibs or possibly chopped dark chocolate. Indeed, Instagram considerations in plating are also a reality, sometimes at the loss of flavor (muted notes of espresso, in this case). My take: Turci Pasta’s “tiramisu affogato” is far superior.
And compared to Braccia, so is Luca Turci. “The restaurant was in terrible condition when we acquired it,” says Vinicius, and I don’t doubt him for a second. Honestly, it’s great to see Luca Turci and Rome’s Flavours across the street vying for the attentions of capricious diners in Winter Park. That both restaurants consistently pack them in is a sure sign of their credibility, not to mention social media savvy.
Luca Turci
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This article appears in May 14-20, 2025.

