Likeable but lacking at Caffe Bartolo

"They really should have sorted these things by now," says my next-door neighbour to her partner. She has a point.

Caffe Bartolo sprang up as if fully formed in the former Bills cafe space on Crown Street in November last year, and has been running for more than four months now.

So why bring a small pat of butter that is so fridge-cold my neighbours skitter it across the table trying to get a knife point into it? And why is it so difficult to catch an eye?

Headed by prominent Sydney bar owner Jared Merlino, Caffe Bartolo is full of charm, with a cocktail bar that looks as if it's been there forever; a busy open kitchen; and a wall lined with family portraits featuring Merlino's great-grandfather Bartolo, and his grandmother, Mary.

Large windows onto the street are lined with wooden venetians, and the smallish marble tables are candle-lit. It's romantic as hell, until you want some service.

The layout is such that all staff members have their backs to you, facing the bar or kitchen. I keep wanting to yell, pantomime-style, "behiiiiind you".

When they do see you, they're bright and swift, with that particularly Italian adroitness, a precise, articulated, turn of the wrist that's a matter of course in Italy, but not as common here.

Former Fratelli Paradiso chef Teofilo Nobrega has put together an appealing pan-Italian menu that runs from gnocchi alla Romana and pan-fried swordfish to a very Otto-like twist on vitello tonnato, the tuna coming with veal mayonnaise, instead of veal with tuna mayo.

I've been in before and had a terrific rigatoni all'arrabiata and well-sourced tomato salad, so it's no surprise to find rich, ripe figs lurking under the culatello di Zibello ($21). Good produce is a priority here.

The rich, nutty, cured pork is sliced to order and draped softly over figs and buffalo mozzarella, with a long golden finger of gnocco fritto – like a savoury cenci fritter – adding crunch.

The specials board lists that Venetian favourite, sarde in saor ($10) as a snack; a plump, marinated sardine, with pickled onion, toasty pinenuts and blackcurrants (nice move), perched on a dense, cakey slab of focaccia.

Things slow up around now, with a three-quarter-full house. Someone hits the dimmer switch, and closes the wooden venetians, cutting off the world. It feels more like a police lockdown than a subtle adjustment.

Order spaghetti vongole and you generally know what to expect – dried Italian pasta asciutta, clams, juices.

Not fresh, almost-linguine with fresh tomato and microherbs that somehow un-Italianise the clams, and drive home the overall lack of flavour.

Pan-roasted spatchcock with roasted pencil leeks and romesco ($32) is a good bird, somewhat muddied by its dark, thick coating of sauce.

Dessert is unremarkable but for a cute crumbed and fried custard croquette, served with an icy vanilla ice-cream and serried slices of poached peach, so pale they look like crudo.

My neighbour and I have bonded by now, and swap notes. She, too has been in earlier, and enjoyed the food and mood sufficiently to come back.

We agree it's still likeable, but something is stopping Caffe Bartolo from fulfilling its purpose. "It needs to lift its game," she says. She has a point.

The low-down

Caffe Bartolo

Vegetarian: A handful of options, best of which is cavatelli with baby spinach, and cima di rapa, garlic shoots and pecorino.

Drinks: Well-built, seasonal cocktails, and a solid Italianish wine list, with 25 wines available by the glass, carafe and bottle, for example a vibrant, juicy Accordini Valpolicella classico for $16/$39/$78.

Go-to dish: Culatello, fiche, gnocco fritto and buffalo mozzarella, $21

Pro tip: Classic Italian-influenced cocktails are done with style

Terry Durack is chief restaurant critic for The Sydney Morning Herald and senior reviewer for the Good Food Guide. This rating is based on the Good Food Guide scoring system.