Few chefs in the city maintain the quality that Angelo Capporino does. He's even more covered with tattoos than I remember. They seem to have magical powers; increasing his cooking skills as they cover his skin. Passion is such a revoltingly over-used and misused word when it comes to food and chefs but, well, here the word is right.
Of the dishes we inhaled, it was hard to decide what was best. The melanzane is a take on the traditional dish. Instead of the usual layers of eggplant, cheese and tomato, Capporino makes tiny tomato-filled eggplant wraps, covered with melted cheese. They're weirdly light for something so cheesy.
I think, though, that the porcini and Parma pasta was the winner. Perfectly cooked rigatoni-like shapes with crisp-fried Parma, and the merest suggestion of mushrooms, herbs, cream and Parmesan. The dish was a lesson in restraint while being deeply intense in flavour. No Parmesan or black pepper offered, because none was necessary (why do so many restaurants keep offering black pepper over almost everything as though it's a neutral element?)