Becco

When all is well with Becco, it follows that all is pretty good with Melbourne. Both have had their ups and downs, but for 17 years discerning patrons have been drawn to the warm apricot glow of the buzzing, very Italian dining room – a gentle stroll from the stiffly conservative Melbourne Club, but light years away too. This is Italian comfort food with flashes of brilliance. The silver whiting ceviche, clearly, is from the brilliant end, but so is a special of capocollo with grilled figs and crunchy semolina-gorgonzola dumplings. For mains, the business crowd, who behave like culinary speed-daters, opt for the familiar, which is no bad thing. The crumbed veal with rocket, tomato, onion and capers is flawless, while the roasted duck with pickled radicchio and muscatel sauce can, with the right pinot, put pressure on afternoon meetings. No time for puddings these days. But if you’re at Becco for dinner, the impeccable tiramisu will evoke a gentler, chubbier time. 

And … Killer private room with laneway outlook.

THE LOW-DOWN
Vibe Mambo Italiano, the Dean Martin version.
Best bit The rusted-on classics.
Worst bit Closer to the bar it can get loud.