Biricchino

Food transmits feeling. Sometimes it's regret (hot dog at the footy). Sometimes it's sweet sadness (noodles prepared to my long-gone grandmother's recipe). Sometimes it's naughtiness (Tim Tams at 10am). Often, it's a happy, spag-bol-with-the-fam feeling. At Biricchino, I felt exuberant and giddy and excited and I'm sure that's because the chef transmits exuberance and excitement through his lively, thoughtful food. I won't say he's giddy - that might just be me.

Biricchino opened in October 2007 and is owned by chef Aron Michielli and his business partner Georgia Reynolds. Michielli left a beachside bistro on the island of Elba to come to Melbourne six years ago. He's done the Italian rounds, with stints at Da Noi, Church Street Enoteca and Caffe e Cucina. Michielli and Reynolds met while working at

St Kilda's Bar Santo. He was head chef; she was a finance professional who loved hospitality so much that her hobby was waitressing. This is their first restaurant and it deserves to do well.

The menu changes fortnightly to reflect current Italian festivals. When I visited a few weeks ago, the theme was Rome, to coincide with the city's birthday and Mussolini's death, among other April celebrations. Dishes included a luscious oxtail ragu served bravely on the bone and a rich, raggedy duck lasagne.

Until May 18, the restaurant is celebrating Piedmont's Vinum wine festival, with Piemontese wine and food. It's an interesting concept with a real connection to culture. There's something gloriously geeky about it, too, and there's nothing more productive than a geek with his blood up.

A few dishes stay on the menu month after month. Among these is the tagliata: grilled, sliced porterhouse draped with shavings of pork lard that melt into the beef. A brick of sliced, baked potato makes this a substantial dish; go easy on the pink peppercorns if you want to taste the excellent meat.

Aron Michielli has dipped a toe into mad-scientist cookery, turning rhubarb into dehydrated string to garnish a tart and serving a garlic-and-Moscato sphere with pork belly. Candied eggplant slices are appended to a delicious honey pannacotta.

Some traditional dishes are boosted by showstopping presentation, as with the seafood linguine that's cooked and served in a paper parcel. It looks impressive but, more importantly, the pasta absorbs the fishy juices, making for an intense, integrated dish. On the other side of the ledger, the pretty antipasto plate was more gawk than talk with subdued flavours and undercooked eggplant.

Biricchino took over from Japanese restaurant Mum Kaasama. The current owners filled a skip with bamboo and kimonos, then painted over the aqua tones from the Greek restaurant that was here eons ago. There's a bit of a 1980s feel to the place with the terracotta tiles, pine furniture and post-ironic straw-sheathed chianti bottles, but it's comfortable enough.

The service is cheerful and emotionally invested, just like I was while I was chowing down. Biricchino isn't the most polished restaurant in town, but it's got a lot of heart.