Little Capo, Edinburgh

Che vuoi? What do you expect? That's the meaning of the Italian hand gesture pictured on the window here. It can be used with varying degrees of impatience, depending on how vigorously the hand is waved.

Whatever you may expect from this place, I guarantee it will deliver a whole lot more. But the first surprise is in the name. Aficionados of gangster movies will know that capo means the boss, the main man. Why then is he just a little boss? Perhaps Stewart McCluskey has plans for a bigger version soon. He's the best known of the partnership which owns Little Capo. Most have a background in the Bon Vivant Grop which McCluskey founded in 2008 and left in 2023. French chef Jamie Broussine is also a partner. More of him later.

The Instagram page describes the food as Italian-ish, which made it the perfect venue to catch up with the Retired Captain of Industry after a gap of some 10 months. You'll find it on the west side of Howe Street in Edinburgh's New Town, a cheerful if cramped space. Apparently it's never quiet and, unusually these days, is open seven days a week. I'd certainly recommend that you book, but, sensibly, this can be done only up to 30 days in advance.

We're well looked after, mainly by Jess and Sarah. Luigi comes to take the money at the end, but denies this denotes any seniority. The menu has sections of a sort, but the distinctions aren't of the clearest. Tom's tip: be hungry when you come here as there doesn't seem to be such a thing as a small plate. We're recommended that one dish from section one and one from section two would probably be enough for each of us. With the many intriguing possibilities we opt for a slightly different formation.

A plate of focaccia never did anyone (much) harm, and we start with a shared plate of zucchini fritti. Courgettes can be really boring. Not here. Batons are dipped in an exemplary batter, tempura-esque, and deep fried to perfection. Wait, no condiments on the table. No need, just the perfect amount of salt added in the kitchen.

We'd opted to go for three larger dishes, with the cioppino as a fish course. The name literally means chopped seafood. Probably Italian-American in origin (from San Francisco, I think), it's basically a fish stew. I've found recipes for it containing all sorts of good things. Here you have cod, mussels and potato. The broth has to be a base of fish stock and tomato. And such a broth, deep and rich, with a hint of fennel and just a touch of chilli. To save us messing around dividing a bowl ourselves, they served us half each. I would have been happy if my half bowl had been a full serving.

With risotto and pappardelle, we were trusted to do our own divvying up. The former was a triumph of subtlety with Jerusalem artichoke and goat's cheese. There were also some artichoke crisps for extra texture. The pappardelle were served with an ox cheek ragù which had been cooked for days. As an unusual twist it was topped with a blob of celeriac purée. Genius. RCI would have preferred another grain or two of salt. I thought that, like everything else we were served, it was bang on.

We're not pudding eaters, and the quantity of food would have prevented that anyway. For those that way inclined there is tiramisu, affogato or daily cake.

Stepping out into the April sunshine quite replete, I bump (not literally) into chef Jamie. He astonishes me by telling me that no one in the kitchen has any background in Italian cooking. You sure could have fooled me. Think how good they'll be when they've had some practice. I tell him how much we had admired the broth. RCI and I had got the recipe almost right. Fish bones, not shells, and just white wine not brandy or Pernod.

In the few months since the Little Boss opened his doors I've received a good few recommendations to go. Having complied,  I'm now a fully paid up member of the fan club.