This restaurant has no menu, but instead, a giant of a man who wanders from table to table over its squeaky wooden floorboards will tell you what you want. And trust us, he knows better than you do.
Café Bacco inspires love in the people that know it, and we’ll inspire hate in the same people for telling you about it. It’s chairs squeak when you move in them and there’s a whole lot of ‘bongiorno’-s and ‘Allora!’-s being thrown around in this dark-wooded place. This may just sound like another pizza and pasta joint where Italian charm is thrown in for tips, but no, simply no – you can’t fake the authenticity of Café Bacco.
Carrying around a huge chunk of Mortadella with a carving knife is the giant we spoke about, Alberto Stefanelli.
This big personality of the place is your menu. Just tell him what you feel like and he’ll take care of the rest, and while the thought of leaving the fate of our dish in somebody else’s hands scares the hell out of us at first, our nerves ease as we see the delight on the other guests faces when trying the random dishes he serves them.
We see pasta in plentiful variations slid under diner’s noses, alongwith the likes of steaks the size of our uncle Jim’s left hand (he has enormous hands… and strangely, especially his left one).
Cafe Bacco is a special place. It’s a real place serving up real food in a restaurant scene that’s becoming increasingly stylised. And like any special place, the limited amount of seats here are valuable. So if you foresee yourself trying to order pizza while occupying one of those special seats with your special ass, do please go somewhere else and leave Bacco for us dedicated diners (said with the voice of a desperate child possessive of their mother).
You can check out our full review of Cafe Bacco, here.
