pick your bowl. or three.

rigatoni — the ridges do the work when there's no cream — under 140 grams of char-grilled thigh, naked slow-roast sugo, a chilli-oil crescent and gremolata. one charred lemon cheek. grana only if you pay for the shave; nothing here hides the char.

fettuccine — width is what cream needs — through the white sauce built on slow-roasted garlic, garlic-parm butter melted at the pan, garlic chips for the crunch, grana shaved over the top. garlic three temperatures, one bowl.

spaghetti — thin strands carry oil where ribbons drown it — through garlic three ways — confit chips, the chilli oil, the house crisp — pangrattato crunch and gremolata over the top. glossed, not sauced: the emulsion standard is printed, and it's oil and starch-water by weight, not a ladle. vegan as built — grana is a paid add.

rigatoni, char and naked sugo at lunch size — built to hold at a desk, priced like a habit. 11-to-3 is its natural habitat, but nobody's checking.

spaghetti — thin, fast, the roman canon — worked with pecorino romano and cracked black pepper into a sauce that is only cheese, pepper and the pasta's own starch water. nothing else, and nothing else is the point. plated at the counter — the emulsion doesn't ride.

spaghetti — the strand rolls the butter — through garlic-parm and its own pan juices under chargrilled prawns, a measured line of chilli oil, gremolata and one charred lemon cheek. plated at the counter or not at all — some things don't travel.

ten layers, set overnight, pan-seared on the cut faces, and a copper-pot sugo pour at the table. serves two to three people, or one significant appetite.

fettuccine — flat ribbons, easy twirls for small hands — turned through the white sauce — mild by birth, easy twirls for small hands, nothing to argue with.