"Are you enjoying the show?"
By the time our waiter asked us this, we had relaxed well into our meal. All the uncertainties of arrival - where would we sit? what would we order? - had been resolved and the quiet pleasures of good food had taken over.
But outside, framed by an expanse of glass, was all manner of frivolity. Next door, we were told, was in the final throes of an event aimed at those who miss their clubbing days but who no longer have any truck with being out past midnight.
The fraying group on a hens' night stumbled by, others caroused while wearing wigs of bright synthetic brilliance. Another group announced with a strut the boys were back in town. Here was life and pleasure and maybe even regret in the making, but from the comfort of a warm restaurant it came across with a life-affirming zeal.
Italian and Sons, a Lonsdale Street stalwart, is a perfect spot to take all this in, and a perch whence you can remind yourself life's better lived in it.
I know Lonsdale Street can be a pain. The parking situation borders on anarchic and traffic jams seem to form on the strip out of nowhere. But you might have heard there is a tram now and it is rather good.
The main point is the pasta here is still worth the bother. I had a smoked duck pappardelle ($39) that managed to be rich in a manner that came off as confident lightness. Porcini mushrooms added stockiness and heft while the pecorino dusted across the top swayed things towards a deft, subtle tang.
There is pasta and there is pasta. This is the real deal, which means it becomes both the main event and imperceptible. Pasta is perhaps food's finest character actor: always able to make the scene while almost never being the star of the production.
The long, broad strips of the pappardelle were silky and resisted being tamed by a fork, but they never overpowered a mouthful where duck and mushroom had their moment in lights.
The suckling lamb paccherini in a tomato and red-wine ragu ($39) across the table was a similar achievement, though altogether richer and less concerned with subtlety. The pasta tubes were easier to pin down and each conveyed the right amount of lamb ragu to enjoy the meat without being overpowered in tomato, a common pitfall of the over-heaped fork.
I am known to equivocate when it comes to ordering salads, but the radicchio, pear and ricotta version here ($16) was a fresh, snappy accompaniment, well placed.
Before we had got to pastas, though, we had begun with bread. The wood-baked rosemary focaccia ($14) comes crusty and warm, with a dense springiness and a small bowl of olive oil to soak up. Three pieces on a plate meant there was little chance of filling up on bread before our mains but there would be worse fates than wrecking a meal eating too much bread like this.
The sardine fillets in Saor ($28) had rounded out the first course. This Venetian-style dish marinates the sardines in chardonnay vinegar with pine nuts and currants. It might have its origins in preservation techniques but the result is a gentle yet flavoursome way to enjoy sardines that tempers their fishiness without extinguishing it.
There will be something you'll enjoy on the wine list. I had a glass of sangiovese ($18) that left me with no sense of urgency to order another but that is on me not the range of choices on offer. The tip, though, is the alcohol-free Aperol spritz ($18), which felt like the real thing and left plenty of mocktails bereft of any magic in the dust.
Dessert took the form of a panna cotta ($18) and a tiramisu ($19). Flashy presentation was not on offer, which is almost a relief after too many visual confrontations that mask flavour letdowns. Both were able renditions of the classics, sticking to comfortable terrain instead of breaking new ground.
The tiramisu was soft and springy, avoiding the trap of becoming sodden, and held its shape with each scooping advance of my spoon. The panna cotta was smooth and a tad shy on flavour, but the stewed pear served alongside it was the bright balance this dessert needed.
After a good run of years, Italian and Sons remains bright and fun. The pasta is serious and the ingredients mean business. This is Italian cooking that doesn't cut corners, confident in its choices and ability to offer the real thing instead of hackneyed transpositions.
Eating here, though, reminds me of a well-played LP of a hit album. The place has found its groove and its audience but repeat plays have left some of the finer notes and precision a little muddied.
Our table wasn't ready when we arrived and the service - out of busyness rather than carelessness, let's be very clear - experienced moments of patchiness.
But I left, as has always been the case, with a good impression. Restaurants like this are the reason traffic jams appear out of nowhere on Lonsdale Street.
They're also a reminder of why it really is better to get out of the house once in a while and enjoy watching the world go by over a bowl of pasta, professionally crafted.
Address: 7 Lonsdale Street, Braddon ACT 2612
Phone: (02) 6162 4888
Website: italianandsons.com.au
Hours: Dinner, Tuesday to Saturday from 5.30pm. Lunch, 12 to 2pm, Wednesday to Friday.
Access: A step up from the street
Noise: Tends to the livelier end
Dietary: In-house gluten-free pasta, some vegetarian options
How we score: Of 20 points, 10 are awarded for food, five for service, three for ambience, two for wow factor. 12 Reasonable - 13 Solid and satisfactory - 14 Good - 15 Very good - 16 Seriously good - 17 Great - 18 Excellent - 19 Outstanding - 20 The best of the best
