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The kind of homely spot where you could fool yourself into thinking you were in Italy, this neighbourhood restaurant has woven baskets and Sardinian ceramics dotting the walls, moody lighting and Italian songs playing on the stereo. The friendly owner could be heard humming along to the music as we browsed the menu (a note to vegetarians: call ahead if you want veggie options).
Dessert was the highlight of the meal. The panna cotta had a wicked wobble, and was dreamily creamy but also light (and the tang from the accompanying raspberries was a genius combo). An ultra-boozy slab of tiramisu was on par; rich and moist.
Mains were decent: the black colour of the homemade cuttlefish ink ravioli contrasted artfully with the white crab meat stuffed inside. The dumplings themselves were nicely al dente, the filling delicately flavoured. Equally satisfying was a plate of malloreddus (a Sardinian specialty of pasta pieces that look like tiny bugs), with a pork ragù on top, plus chunks of sausage buried among the pasta.
But starters, though they arrived promptly, were disappointing. Six golf-ball-sized fish croquettes on a bed of mushy peas were overly chewy; a plate of meatballs with a smattering of tomato sauce were bone dry.
Still, all portions were humongous (it’s worth sharing), so if it’s a full feed you’re after, you’re in the right place.