Finger-licking experience

Pasta Bar Veneto, one of the hottest new Italian eateries in town, promises a finger-licking experience. We found that it indeed delivers on the promise...
What eez it? What eez it? Well, if you happen to be one of those who are tuned in to radio 24/7, you probably know exactly what we’re talking about! It serves the paaastaa, the peeetza, the coffee, the thee, the juices — and no, it isn’t a ristorante.Or a café. Still errring? We’re talking about Pasta Bar Veneto, one of the newest entries into the burgeoning Italian eatery market in our food-lovin’ city.
Located inside a once-hugely-popular mall, the joint has a cosy feel to it, done up in warm colours and bearing a homely feel. And this feel lends itself to the menu too, which is replete with wholesome treats and dishes that promise to lift even the dreariest of spirits with cheesey command. From the anti pasti section, we choose the polpette lamb (balls of herbed meat) which comes with basil, and slices of tomato topped off with a blob of cheese. The simple flavour of the meat wins us over on first bite, preparing us for the mozzarella ricotta fingers that arrive, chewy and lush but just as greasy too. For the main course, we dig into a thin crust bolognese pizza, which is a delight. The chunks of meat that sit beneath a layer of rich cheese make for an extremely simple pizza, but each bite makes you lust for the next. But before we stuff ourselves silly, we switch to the frittata di verdure bake, which comes covered in a sheath of egg and is stuffed with bits of capsicum, chicken and if you’re lucky, olives too. The dish is deep and enjoyable, save for the dryness. We leave the best for last, or so we thought, with the pastas, that come highly recommended. However, the chicken pasta in white sauce that we sample is a disaster from word ‘go’. The sauce is the culprit; its consistency is far from creamy and the taste rings in a strong Maggi moment.
To redeem our taste buds, and also so the Glutton Gods don’t punish us with that dreaded extra inch, we include a Caesar’s salad, with lettuce and homemade dressing, in our meal too. But apart from making us feel less guilty, the salad does little else. So we reach for sin again, in the form of a tiramisu, telling ourselves that an Italian meal would be incomplete without it. And we’re right; the tiramisu marks a sweet and sincere end to what was a quick, simple and unfussy affair.