Woody P

In the past when you walked down this bit of Flinders Lane on a Saturday night, you'd first encounter the hungry Chin Chin mob, and then the young kids queuing for Fashion Lounge – a venue whose punters put much effort into complementing or contradicting the name.

Fashion Lounge is no more, but owners Pierre Semaan and Rob Delica haven't left the building. Instead, they've turned their hand to the business of running a Flinders Lane restaurant. There's a formula for those, and Woody P goes by the book.

The flavour here is Italian-slash-Mediterranean. The pitch is casual and "cheap", but perhaps that's in a world where $16 for a small plate is now considered thrifty. The setting features blond woods at a windswept angle and high ceilings. A marble bar leads to the open kitchen. The compulsory neon sign reads "When in Rome", and has white shadowing painted beneath to make it jump. It's nice. Designers Eades and Bergman give good restaurant.

In the kitchen is Clinton Camilleri, a chef accustomed to the fine, tweezer-y work of kitchens such as the Lake House and Healesville Hotel. He's built a menu here that's a something-for-everyone bonanza of pan-European charcuterie, tricked out pastas, and fat, sweet scallops fried off with spicy nduja sausage.

The crowd is exactly who you expect. Chunky men in suits are eating the fat pork scotch fillet that's destructable by fork, dressed with poached quince and a smoky chorizo cream. There are the ambulance chasers inhaling the new restaurant smell, desperately Instagramming kingfish carpaccio, which hides under a thicket of finely shaved pickled vegetables, dots of piquant beet gel giving the fish some grunt.

Beside you might be the couple that's walked in at random because there isn't a queue. They order the safer options, like the gnudi – squidgy, sticky ricotta and spinach balls bedded in assertive romesco sauce. They seem happy enough. The room is full, the staff are bubbly and the music is studiously inoffensive.

That's pretty much the measure of this restaurant. It's easy. Somewhere you can simultaneously smash a pizza and Peroni (on tap, and in a can) while your friend gets a sweat on for dishes dressed to the nines with micro-herbs, pickles and puree swipes.

There are some nice ideas in the mix. Camilleri drapes his vitello tonnato with wisps of wagyu bresaola and crisp fried capers, the air-dried beef giving heft to soft, velvety disks of poached veal, capped with a tuna aioli. The scallops are inch thick, golden brown, sweet and soft, plated very prettily, if superfluously, with a pumpkin swipe and pomegranate jewels.

At the bar you'll get smart cocktails designed by James Tait, and made by Pete Hanmer, bartenders with serious chops. The Salty Dog is a dirty dry Manhattan spiked with a little vanilla olive brine. It works. An Aperol spritz is levelled with a pinch of salt, a nip of soda water and fat Sicilian olives. It proves the bar takes itself seriously and that you should too.

The tortellini filled with a potato and cauliflower mash doesn't hit home. They're thick skinned, and taken to a weird realm by potent truffle paste and lemon oil. Flip the menu instead for pizze, with puffy, chewy, well-seasoned bases, heavily laden with taleggio, waxy potato slices, rosemary and a sweet onion jam. The margherita tastes as good as fresh tomato sauce and quality mozzarella always do.

It's not hard to find things you'll like at Woody P. The salad is nicely dressed. There's a dessert you'll like involving crumbed, fried custard served with caramel ice-cream and layer upon layer of apple slices, caramelised till soft.

Will you find anything you love? Maybe. But Woody P is more easy than exciting. Sometimes easy is all you need.

THE LOWDOWN
Pro tip Come, stay for cocktails. The bar is a sharp operation
Go-to dish Vitello tonnato with wagyu bresaola, $19
Like this? Pan-European small plates are still going strong at Bar Lourinha, 37 Little Collins Street, Melbourne