A spoonful of pasta makes the natural wine go down at Don's

"Cook with the heart." These words are written in Texta on the side of the rangehood at Don's, a new wine bar and snack stop. Whether it's there as exhortation, reminder or loving war cry, it's definitely working.

And it's not just the cooking that's done with heart. It's the welcome, the wine service and the general mood. Every second restaurateur will tell you they want the dining experience to feel like a visit to their home. Don's is the rarity that more or less nails it.

Owned by Alex Gavioli and his partner Sarah Freudendal, Don's is dominated by a 12-metre timber bench running the length of the room. On one side is the open kitchen and servery, on the other is seating. Tiny perches for two or three line the far wall and there's a communal table for up to six at the back. It's tight, but that bursting feeling is as much from emotion as bustle.

Gavioli is also a partner in Stan's Deli, a Malvern sandwich store that gained cult local status in lockdown. Don's is the night-time extension, a place for community sustenance but with the relaxed, rakish possibilities of evening service.

The tiny, snacky menu leads off with focaccia, a maligned bread that's undergoing a renaissance in Melbourne. Salt-sprinkled and springy, it's served with olives, pickled chilli and torn burrata.

There's a burger, too, made either with fried chicken or eggplant layered with buttermilk-dressed slaw in a sweet bun.

Prahran Market, just opposite, inspires many dishes, with Gavioli traipsing the stalls to discover bounty. On my visit, that meant purple carrots roasted to floppy sweetness and served with chilli-oil-puddled sunflower hummus.

"Pasta on a spoon" is the cutest concept I've encountered for a while. A $9 mouthful of housemade pasta is piled onto a tablespoon for eating in one or two bites. I had spaghetti cacio e pepe; you might land on silverbeet pesto or duck ravioli with mandarin butter.

It's a funny idea, reminiscent of late-night leftovers straight from the fridge, but also an honouring of the skill that goes into artisan pasta. I'm into it but if you want pasta for dinner, this isn't quite it.

You could distil the Don's project to an encouragement to be in the moment, dealing with each other human to human, vulnerable and genuine.

The racy little wine list skews to the natural: navigating it may take conversations and tasting sips, which is pretty much the idea.

The name tells a story, too. Gavioli has four brothers, each of whose middle name is John, also the name of their father. The boys call one another "John John", which somehow became "Don" as a term of endearment.

"If I call you Don, it's like you're in my family," says Gavioli.

His restaurant is infused with that spirit, warm, wry and personal, honouring connection.