Fitzroy favourite Alta Trattoria had an overhaul. How does version 2.0 compare?

3 hours ago 2

“A restaurant pivot is a tricky thing.” Besha Rodell wonders whether a turn to a more informal format would benefit Italian restaurant Cantina Moro.

The restaurant pivot is a tricky thing. There are multiple reasons to do it: for a refresh when the blush of first excitement wears off; when a concept just isn’t working in the space or with the clientele; when the team is simply bored and ready for something new.

In the case of Alta Trattoria in Fitzroy, the reason was much more straightforward and practical. The chef, McKay Wilday, who had created a loyal following for his Piedmontese cooking, was moving on. Rather than try to continue with a theme that was heavily tied to Wilday and his skills and passions, co-owners James Tait, Luke Drum and Carlo Grossi decided to lean into the skills and passions of their new chef, Matteo Tine.

After a brief closure in late August and early September, a new golden-hued paint job and a switch up in artwork, Alta Trattoria re-emerged as Cantina Moro, and Sicily rather than Piedmont became the restaurant’s focus.

Aside from those minor cosmetic tweaks, the look and feel of the restaurant haven’t changed much. It’s a lovely little spot, with two adjoining rooms, the front looking out over the street and the back built around a cosy bar. The wooden chairs and white tablecloths give it a classic, polished but warm vibe, which is matched by the service from the owners. The place is a labour of love and it shows.

The Sicilian theme makes for a menu that is warmer, heartier, and a little more home-style than what was at Alta. Gone is the rabbit and olive pasta (a dish I’ll forever remember as one of the greats in a city of superior pasta); in its place is a sturdy ragu over pappardelle made with hunks of Italian sausage, plus pork rib and jowl meat, a recipe reportedly taken from Tine’s Sicilian grandmother. (It’s not the only dish that nonna has influenced this menu; her roast potatoes also make an appearance.) Tine is capable of a delicate hand with pasta, too, as evidenced by a potato and ricotta ravioli crowned with oregano and capocollo.

A daily antipasti might include a heap of tender porchetta, some peppery salami, vinegared anchovy, roast capsicum and a generous hunk of cheese – whatever they’ve found that day that appeals to the chef.

Seafood is a strong point, in particular a honey bug crudo, in which the small crustaceans are split open, their bouncy raw flesh capped with citrus. Swordfish with agrodolce is a study in balance, sweet and sour and meaty.

There is an occasional heavy-handed use of salt on the otherwise fantastic bluefin tuna pastrami and on a tagliarini with multiple types of clams and red pepper. But just as often, the seasoning is spot-on – I was especially smitten with a side of lightly bitter braised escarole with cannellini beans.

I wonder if the pivot for this venue ought to have included a turn towards a more informal format. I’m not sure how the owners ought to go about that – honestly, adding “wine bar” to the marketing spiel is probably the easiest way – but I think that in its newest form, this restaurant cries out to be used as a casual neighbourhood eatery more than a more formal date-night spot.

That antipasti plate would be perfect as a light meal on the footpath with a friend over a couple of glasses from the excellent Italia-focused wine list; I’d love to come here for a few nibbles or a plate of pasta at the bar without feeling the need to make my way through the whole menu.

Of course, restaurants are what we make of them, and if Cantina Moro is to become a staple of the neighbourhood, my guess is that people will start using it more spontaneously, in exactly the ways I’ve described. I’d love to see this room bustling, with customers spilling out onto the street. It’s a place that deserves a sunny energy to match its sunny, charming offering.