This two-hatter serves some of the most exciting Italian food in Sydney right now

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A word on the floor team here at this newly restored Italian restaurant, where a $24 Melbourne Bitter longneck is served with the same level of skill, panache and care as a $500 bottle of Egly-Ouriet premier cru. Staff will serve that beer iced in its own bucket. Pour it into short glasses with the right amount of head. Top up as needed. That’s serious hospitality.

They know how to wrangle a busy room and how to bond with a new table. Our waiter asks us, sitting in our sunlit corner booth, if we have any dietary requirements or lifestyle choices he needs to know about. I ask him what constitutes a lifestyle choice. “I’ve worked in the US for the past couple of decades,” he says, without missing a beat. “I’ve seen it all.”

The walls of 174 Liverpool Street have seen a few things themselves. In the ’80s, it was the glamorous Tre Scalini, famous for its clientele of fashion icons, media moguls, union fat cats and underworld heavies.

More recently, it was comfortable, widely loved trattoria Bar Vincent run by chef Andy Logue and Sarah Simm. Earlier this year, Logue and Simm sold Bar Vincent to Morgan McGlone and Nathan Sasi (the chefs behind Bar Copains, Bessie’s and Alma’s in Surry Hills) and the pair promised very little would change.

Bar Vincent, it turned out, was a hard act to maintain. There were gripes from regulars about the new online booking system (previously, you had to phone), the choice of music and the food tasting different. The pair listened and decided to tighten the brief. Vin-Cenzo’s has all the hallmarks of their other venues – great wine, tight snacks, polished service – but plus a certain warmth that makes you want to settle in for the long haul.

Back in the Tre Scalini era, the rabbit warren of rooms must have been very handy for whatever deals were (or were not) done back there. Nowadays, you’re more likely to see larger groups relaxing over house-made pasta and large format wines.

The space has been updated enough to make it feel like a new restaurant, but not so much that it might scare away Bar Vincent die-hards. Daffodil-yellow out the front for sun-dappled relaxation, Mediterranean-blue out the back for dimly-lit trysts. A picture rail lining the dining room is dotted with bottles, tchotchkes, old framed photos and decorative plates. It’s like visiting someone’s European grandparents – if they had great taste in wine and enjoyed listening to The Cure.

If my love of tiny snacks is a lifestyle choice, I’m well catered for here. There are crunchy arancini injected with a heart of spicy Calabrian pork paste, served with a side of house-made chilli sauce. An Italian-style finger sandwich is filled with smoked mozzarella and fine slices of veal tongue, toasted until golden and melty.

Eggplant alla Norma sees layers of sweet tomato jam, salty ricotta and crisp-fried eggplant finished with the finest grating of parmesan cheese. Enjoy them all sitting outside with a pineapple Americano: Campari and sweet vermouth, softened with a house-made pineapple soda

Although dishes come out at a decent clip, there’s a real lack of hurry. Pick over the bagna cauda e verdure (an artfully arranged collection of raw carrots, radishes and lettuces, boiled eggs and fingerling potatoes, to be dipped in a warm bath of butter, red-wine marinated garlic and anchovy) while you decide what to order off the big, bold and broad menu.

Pasta is a specialty. Cloud-like pumpkin ravioli are covered in brown butter and finished with crisp sage leaves. Fettuccine alfredo features egg pasta coated in a lavish sauce of two types of butter (Piedmontese 1889 and a touch of local Pepe Saya for acidity), three types of cheese (aged pecorino, reggiano, grana) finished with plenty of pepper.

Agnolotti con pollo e mortadella translates as little pasta orbs – filled with a mix of chopped roast chicken, mortadella, creme fraiche, parmesan and eggs – bobbing about in a deeply flavoured golden broth. According to the kitchen, it’s extremely time-consuming to make. The best way to honour that effort? Order it more often.

Dishes from snacks to smalls, pastas and larger menu items are beautifully, richly and heavily (but perfectly) seasoned. Sweet, pink pork belly sausage on a bed of braised lentils commands the respect of a not-quite full stomach – not least for the bright salsa verde and mustard that accompany it.

Parmesan-crumbed whiting comes away in flakes, and is served very sweetly with a side of smashed green peas. I order a side of fries and a rocket salad, too, which pretty much kills the subject of dessert, but accompanies the fish nicely.

If you overcommit (it’s easy to do here – this is some of the most exciting Italian food on the circuit), soft flakes of coffee granita hidden under a swathe of whipped mascarpone is a light, elegant full stop. It’s served in an ’80s cappuccino cup – a wink to the restaurant’s past, as is the pair of Lego mobsters wearing (actual) cement shoes that come with the bill. These walls? They’d never talk.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.