The Italian Bowl

In a street that really should be renamed the King and Thai, punters who can’t face one more larb gai praise Buddha for The Italian Bowl, a skinny space that feels like the eatery Tony Soprano might have run if he’d practised hospitality, not hostility. Chefs shake a pan of gnocchi with subtly creamy pesto in one hand, toss a marinara risotto with fresh seafood in the other, all the while prepping a fettuccine carbonara on the side. There’s crisp chicken or veal schnitzel, or chicken caesar with plump anchovies, but most come for noodles Italian-style. Choose a shape, a sauce and a size. Simple.