There’s no table service, alas. You give your order and wait for the ticket to be called. It’s probably the only thing here that doesn’t scream la dolce vita – because everything from the looped film of Anita Ekberg swanning around the Trevi fountain to the heavily accented waiter who calls every woman in earshot “Bella” transports you straight to Italy.
And the coffee? A workhorse Italian with rough edges and a lingering kick.