Chaos, charm and a side of pasta

If I had the time and word-count limits didn’t exist, I’d tell you how this restaurant review veered into film-noir territory. I’d tell you how I combed through TripAdvisor reviews, Cyprus Mail archives, old newspaper clippings and even the Registrar of Companies to piece it together.

I’d tell you how this is, in fact, a tale of three restaurants stretching back to 1986 – how they evolved, how they splintered and how the people originally behind the enterprise were once culinary heavyweights in the capital.

But that’s a story for another time.

This time around, my faithful dining companion and I decided to visit a restaurant that, in my mind’s eye, existed as a hidden little gem just off the main street.

A place that, on the few occasions I’ve walked past it, always seemed mostly empty: muted music, subdued atmosphere, the sort of spot only the “in-the-know” would bother with.

I assumed we were going to a slightly upscale, low-key local eatery opened either by enterprising Italians or a Cypriot who had spent years training in Italy and returned to show us what we’d been missing.

That’s why I didn’t bother making a reservation.

Being in the neighbourhood, we decided to walk. The November evening was pleasantly crisp – enough for long sleeves but not enough to justify patio heaters.

So imagine my disappointment when we arrive and discover that every outside table is occupied except for a tiny – and “tiny” is me being generous here – table for two right next to, of course, a patio heater.

We ask the waiter whether we can sit inside the covered terrace. He thinks yes, but must check with the maître d’. After clacking away on her little iPad, she informs us that all the tables are reserved – inside, terrace and outside. However, we may sit by the door, at another tiny table for two, and stay until 9pm when the “guests who reserved” (ouch) will arrive.

My faithful dining companion and I decide we can make it work. We sit.

We are handed the menu – extensive is putting it mildly. Breads, starters, salads, pasta, risotto, gnocchi, ravioli, pizza, pork chops, fish, desserts – all that and more.

To its credit, the wine menu is folded into it, complete with genuinely useful pairing suggestions.

We place our order: a glass of house white and spaghetti all’amatriciana (spicy tomato sauce, pancetta and basil) for my companion; a pint of Peroni (no, I am not sorry) and the artichoke risotto for me.

Stuffed mushrooms with mozzarella and garlic to start, with a plan to split a tiramisu later, complete the order.

We are promptly brought complimentary bread and a side table to put our phones and knickknacks on – but, disappointingly, not a countdown timer hard-wired for 9pm.

Soon enough, the starter makes its entrance: four large, pancaked Portobello mushrooms smeared in a garlic–mozzarella topping.

The mushrooms themselves are juicy and cooked right, but the topping tastes slightly bland and uninspired. I’m fairly certain I cooked a version of this dish during my perpetually cash-strapped university days – I just never had the foresight to monetise it.

We both agree the price doesn’t match the product.

Still, the plate returns to the kitchen empty, equal parts hunger and buyer’s remorse.

Soon after, the mains arrive: a hefty plate of red-sauced pasta and my risotto. We tuck in dutifully, and the results are mixed.

The risotto, we both agree, is wonderfully tangy, creamy and seasoned just right. The rice is slightly firm to the bite, but not crunchy. The quintessential Italian dish delivers in spades.

The spaghetti all’amatriciana, however, is a bit of a downer. The pasta is molto al dente – subjectively too much so for the dish. The touted spicy tomato sauce is neither spicy nor particularly saucy, and despite the basil being listed, it apparently decided to arrivederci out of there, because there wasn’t a hint of it.

To its credit, the pancetta is wonderfully cooked and does all the heavy lifting. And the final few bites are genuinely quite nice, because the sauce has pooled at the bottom and finally gives the spaghetti some character.

Lastly, we make good on our plan to share the tiramisu – and good for us, because the portion that arrives is positively gargantuan, we barely make it through.

The dessert is good: the mascarpone is thick, lacking the airy lightness I’ve had elsewhere, but the chef wisely goes easy on the sugar, letting the coffee and cocoa take centre stage.

In the end, this isn’t a restaurant that dazzles you with consistency.

Not every dish sings, but the ones that do – that risotto, and the pizzas we only glimpsed – suggest a kitchen capable of real charm.

And maybe charm is enough to earn a second visit.

VITAL STATISTICS

SPECIALTY: Italian cuisine

WHERE: Bar Italia, Zinonos Sozou 1, Nicosia

WHEN: Monday to Saturday 12pm-3pm, 6.30pm-11.15pm. Sunday closed

CONTACT: 22 377033

HOW MUCH: Starters: €8 – €16 Mains: €15 – €22