Café
- Mon – Sat
- 7 am – 3 pm
- Sunday
- 8 am – 3 pm
Walk in, stand at the bar

Pasta rolled by hand every afternoon, espresso from seven, and a market full of everything we cook with. Pull up a chair; you’re family here.
In 1994 Antonio Vincenzo opened a café on the square with six tables and one espresso machine. The market came next, because guests kept asking where to buy the olive oil. The restaurant came last, because they kept staying for dinner.
Thirty years later, it’s still the same family at the door.
Espresso at the bar, the first cornetti out of the oven.
The doors open at seven. Stand at the marble like they do in Naples, or take the window table with the paper. Cappuccino until eleven, then we pretend not to notice.

Prosciutto sliced to order, parmigiano cut from the wheel.
By noon the market is busy with lunch panini and Sunday shopping. Taste the olive oil before you buy it, and leave with tonight’s pasta in brown paper.

Spritz and olives on the patio as the lights come on.
From four to six the patio fills up for a spritz, a bowl of olives and taralli, and the string lights coming on in the trees. Nobody books; just find a chair.

White linen, candles, and the pasta rolled at three.
Dinner is the whole family at work: Antonio at the pass, Giulia at the wine, and a dining room that sounds like a Sunday in Caserta. Stay for the tiramisù.


The same eggs, flour and patience as Antonio’s mother in Caserta. If it’s on your plate tonight, it was a ball of dough this afternoon.
Everything we cook with is on the shelves next door: sliced to order, cut from the wheel, poured to taste. Ask Giulia what she’s opening this week.

Prosciutto di Parma, San Daniele, mortadella and finocchiona, sliced to order.
Parmigiano by the wedge, pecorino, gorgonzola, and burrata on Thursdays.
The restaurant's pasta, rolled at 3 pm. Take home a pound with our sugo.
Single-estate olive oils to taste at the counter, aged balsamic from Modena.
Two hundred Italian bottles, the restaurant list at shop prices.
Focaccia, schiacciata and the café pastries, out of the oven by 7 am.
Salumi, cheese, focaccia and a bottle for two, or a spread for forty. Order by 3 pm the day before.

“Cook for people likethey’re already family.Most of them become it.”
Antonio VincenzoFounder · in the kitchen most nights
The tagliatelle tasted exactly like the ones I had in Bologna. We sat on the patio under the lights until they gently turned the chairs over.
Coffee and a bombolone every morning before work. Giulia knows my order before I reach the counter.
We buy our prosciutto and parmigiano here every Sunday. It is the closest thing to an Italian market this side of the ocean.

The back room seats twelve to forty under its own chandelier, with a set menu from the kitchen and wines chosen from the market’s shelves.
Open every day
Walk in, stand at the bar
Picnic boxes by noon, ordered the day before
Reservations recommended, patio first come
Free parking behind the square after 5 pm.
