Here are some of the things that Chef Angelo Sanelli (formerly of Michelangelo’s) knows how to do: serve consistently impressive classics from the old country; present them in a dimly-lit, inviting space that whisks you a world away from the ramshackle stores nearby; and prop himself up in the adjacent bar toward the end of the evening dispensing wisdom as freely as limoncello. That bar is a particularly nice touch; offering the full menu in a slightly more informal setting—with its intimate corners and bohemian vibe it’d make a great date spot (guys, they even have the football showing on a small screen above the bar). But it’s through the open doorway, in a room of around a dozen tables, where the magic really happens. We started with the wagyu beef carpaccio, a plate of meat so thin it could win a modeling competition, draped over chunks of fragrant parmesan, topped with hard boiled quail eggs and the subtle scent of black summer truffle. Our other appetizer couldn’t have been more different—a huge helping of chili mussels from New Zealand, in a thick tomato-garlicky sauce. We ordered extra garlic bread and used the doorstop-sized hunks to mop up every last drop. If there was a fault with this dish it was simply that we had no room left for a real main course; so we had to pass on the ribeye and the black cod. Instead, we plumped for pasta dishes (the measure of any true Italian kitchen): The fettucini with mushrooms and duck and the Pasta Di Angelo. The cheese sauce rather smothered the fettucini; meaning the dish lacked the complexity of flavor we were hoping for. The latter was rather special though—tender beef chunks with the merest sliver of fat, tossed with chili and spring onion (and yes, more garlic) over al dente spaghetti. Definitely something we’d order again. After that, dessert would have been a step too far (although their tiramisu’s divine). The wine cellar at the back of the room also merited more exploration than we had time for. But then we’re saving that for when we come back with someone special. Guess we’ll have to lay off the garlic to make that happen.
