Authentic and simple Italian dishes, including this octopus salad, make Campagnolo one of Vancouver’s most pleasurable and accessible new restaurants — despite its somewhat sketchy location.

Credit: supplied

ON THE PLATE: A tour of Italy reaps authentic flavours

Campagnolo
1020 Main, 604-404-6018, CampagnoloRestaurant.ca
Food: 4 stars / Service: 4 stars / Atmosphere: 4 stars / Value: 5 stars (out of 5)

The last decade has seen two conceptual trends dominate Vancouver’s restaurant scene: small plates and “West Coast.” Both have spawned dozens of fine establishments in the city, but, as a consequence of their popularity, we’ve subsequently run a deficit of rooms that focus on traditional cuisines. A serious drought of Italian restaurants is particularly bothersome.

But 2008 changed that, bringing with it four Italian rooms, all of which made it onto my list of the year’s 10 best new restaurants. Cibo, La Quercia, and Trattoria Italian Kitchen opened in the summer, and then, just a few weeks ago, came Campagnolo, from the same people who brought us Kitsilano’s popular Fuel Restaurant.

The first thing that makes Campagnolo so remarkable is its location, on a block of Main Street that would scare away most mid- to high-end restaurateurs, right next to the old and not-too-attractive Ivanhoe Hotel (with its permanent huddle of smokers outside). Very daring stuff, indeed. I suppose there’s a chance the postal code could gentrify over time, but I can’t see that happening this year or next, especially in these trying economic times. Sure, it’s just a stone’s throw from a SkyTrain station and just off the Georgia Viaduct, but it’s still sketchy enough to keep the fancypants crowd away. For certain, the owners — Robert Belcham, Tom Doughty, and Tim Pittman — were thinking long-term when they purchased the building, and if — or, rather, when — the area does eventually take off, they’ll be sitting pretty.

The coming of Campagnolo (which translates as “country bumpkin”) was no secret in restaurant-industry circles. Its opening was highly anticipated, and it’s been busy since the first night. The design is pretty sleek, but not at all in an off-putting, that’s-probably-too-expensive kind of way. Once inside the heavy front door, diners pass through a burgundy tunnel to emerge in a cork-floored, wood-overdosed, open-concept dining room of 65 seats, with concrete walls, cutting-board tables, and charcoal chairs, all under a gorgeous exposed-fir-beam ceiling. It’s all fronted by a big window that looks out onto arterial traffic (there aren’t many pedestrians), making the whole feel decidedly insular.

A long hallway leads back to a cozy, amber-lit wine bar of 25 seats. The only discordant note back here is a flat-screen TV that casts an ugly blue light on the proceedings. (It’s for showing lots of Euro sports, so I guess it fits the concept well enough.) Modern but far from formal, there’s a democratic undercurrent running throughout that strips away all potential pretense.

Though co-owner Belcham is the executive chef at both Fuel and Campagnolo, the man at the pans here is Alvin Pillay, a longtime kitchen fixture at Fuel who recently returned from a six month “research” jaunt across Italy. The menu that he and Belcham have put together is based on many off his discoveries from the Emiglia-Romagna and Piedmont regions, and it’s priced to sell. This is his first time holding down a chef-de-cuisine position, and so far he’s knocking it out of the park.

On my first visit, I enjoyed a straightforward tagliarini pasta ($15), twisted conservatively with toothsome pork ragu, a few leaves of basil, and a little pecorino — very simple, traditional stuff, and totally delicious. My friend had the only risotto on the menu ($16), which was as simple and as wet as the best ones usually are, with pancetta cubes, marjoram, and globe artichokes offering up layers of very basic flavours.

On my second turn, I mistakenly began with a salty, appetite-suppressing peasant’s soup of borlotti beans and smoked ham hock ($8) that was dark, thick, and hard to resist plowing through quickly. It would be a filling elixir for those looking to warm up from the cold after 12 hours working on a farm, but with a sausage and arugula pizza (a steal at $13) coming for the second course, it was far too much. I would have been better off beginning with the octopus salad ($9), which I tried on my third visit. Meaty, citrusy, and fresh-tasting, it was apportioned conservatively, and accented with red pepper and little cubes of cucumber coolant. My principle plate that night was the best of the lot: plump agnolotti stuffed with mascarpone-whipped potato and flecked with sage ($16). All of the presentations were mounted with care, and with no dishes over $18, it’s totally accessible.

Both Doughty and Pittman run the floor, resulting in details-oriented service that is both capable and sincere. They’ve put together a good list of Italian and local wines, with 15 to 20 available by the glass at fair prices. Grappa figures highly, too, and there are some Italian-themed cocktails and Italian beer selections. Again, the price points are very reasonable, leaving the increasingly cost-conscious customer with good value. It’s a rare thing to leave a restaurant of this quality feeling like you received much more than you paid for, but Campagnolo is that kind of rarity. I wish there were more like it.