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This venue is closed.

Chef Pippa Calland opened this quaint cafe in 2004 with a menu well-versed in red sauce classics and hearty meat dishes. But the kitchen's lost its way since her 2005 departure. While the space retains its bric-a-brac interior with whirring ceiling fans, antique lamps, a giant Venetian canal mural, and a scoping-friendly outdoor café, the execution of the now briefer menu lacks style, flair—and care. Fried ricotta balls should be renamed eggplant discs, as that's what really dominates in this leaden couplet; epic portions rob the homemade noodles of potential delicacy. Spaghetti alla Chitarra is heaped so high that the pasta turns to mush from its piled weight on the plate. The accompanying meatballs feature a tough exterior and undercooked center. Too much truffle oil overwhelms a dish that already includes potent porcini mushrooms. Lightly fried baby artichokes covered in Fontina cheese and drizzled with a refreshing, lemony kick seems to be the only surviving ode to Calland's legacy. Otherwise, this eatery—named to honor Calland's collegiate passion for poetry—has little rhyme or reason. — Kathleen Squires

Baby artichokes alla Romana, $7