It might look lo-fi, but this pasta bar dials up the warmth and charm. Lampshades are made from pasta colanders, cutlery is held in empty tomato cans and the on-tap sangiovese is poured into tumblers. The living is easy here, so relax.

Ten pastas are handwritten on long brown-paper scrolls hanging from the wall behind the small on-show kitchen. Served in a cardboard noodle box, with proper stainless steel cutlery, prawn and ’nduja linguine glistens with spicy, rust-coloured oil and goes heavy on the parmigiano and pecorino, gleefully breaking the no-cheese-with-seafood rule.

A seasonal rigatoni special cradles earthy roasted jerusalem artichoke and celeriac sauce, with fried sage, pancetta and smashed hazelnuts representing team crunch. There’s only one dessert, but when it’s big hunks of creamy, Marsala-laced tiramisu served in a vintage floral bowl, who needs choice?

Good to know: While there’s no toilet, there is warm garlic bread.

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