You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I’m not really one for Italian food. A, however, newishly transplanted from the West End, has been missing Nook, her favourite little pork-infused hideaway. On a rare evening when the three of us were available (after ditching our boyfriends and coworkers respectively), A, E and I headed to the cozy confines of Campagnolo Roma with our hopes held high. We were not to be disappointed.
The room has been beautifully renovated and you have to look hard for any trace of the strange Jamaican pizzeria that was the previous occupant. I am somewhat sorry that I never made it there, but I'm told I wasn't missing much.
The whipped ricotta appetizer was a revelation that I'm still wistfully phantom-tasting today. No sooner had the first bites passed our lips than we ordered another round. The fresh and simple pastas are priced reasonably, striking a balance between the obvious quality of the ingredients and the sensibility of the neighbourhood. A charmingly forgetful bartender who said he was only moonlighting and our shy but sweet server rounded out the equation.
CR, as I will henceforth refer to it in text messages, is a welcome addition to the burgeoning neighbourhood foodie scene. We will be back, sans car and plus wine.