Palazzo Salato review; Love Tilly Group Sydney; Italian restaurant Sydney

Ever see the film Big Night? Co-directed by and starring Stanley Tucci, it tells the story of two competing Italian restaurants on America’s Jersey shore in the 1950s. One, Paradise, is run with integrity; the food cooked as it was in the old country. The other, Pascal’s, has embraced the spaghetti and meatballs of Americanised Italian food. Pascal’s gets the crowds; Paradise doesn’t.

Just about every Italian restaurant that has opened since the film came out in 1996 has tried to combine these two extremes, craving critical acclaim but needing commercial success.

It’s possible the folks of the Love Tilly Group have been binge-watching Big Night as they grew their family of restaurants from Love Tilly Devine to Dear Sainte Eloise, Ragazzi, Bar Salut and Fabbrica. Small 40-seaters with an emphasis on artisanal foods. Hand-sliced salumi. House-made pasta. Vermouths, natural wines.

And now, Palazzo Salato, which weighs in at a whopping 120 seats. What was the Redoak Boutique Beer Cafe in Clarence Street, between King and Market, is now a clamorous dining room with a 20-seat private room and a stool-lined bar saved for walk-ins. If you know the tiny Ragazzi in Angel Place, it’s as if someone has simply zoomed in and magnified it. The bar, particularly, is reminiscent of New York’s modern American Gramercy Tavern.

The room’s original timber columns and arches add presence, floors are bare wooden boards, dining chairs are classic Thonet, and colourful wall art is by Sydney artist Louis Wayling. It’s a dynamic, new/old space in which to dine, and group executive chef Scott McComas-Williams, working with executive chef Alex Major (Ragazzi) and head chef Vincenzo Romeo (Casoni), has formulated a menu that has just as much character.

Palazzo Salato has the crowds, the buzz and the apparent success; and yet it doesn’t feel as if anything has been compromised.

Unlike most Italian restaurants, there is no calamari fritti. Instead, there is trippa alla Fiorentina ($19), the strips of honeycomb tripe richly sauced in a reduced tomato sugo studded with big fat white beans. A good whack of chilli hits the back of the throat, making it comfort food with just a hint of discomfort.

Instead of prosciutto, there’s rich, ruddy, Iberican paletta (cured shoulder) with grissini ($32). And it’s good to see a whole artichoke ($21) being heroed so ebulliently, cooked until tender, then finished on the grill and bathed in a vibrant, fruity sauce of fresh tomatoes and pesto Trapanese (basil, olive oil and almonds).

If you’re a fan of Italy’s crazy backlog of regional pasta shapes, you’ll do well with McComas-Williams’ non-cliched selection. Spaghetti alla chitarra is teamed with bottarga and egg yolk; mafaldine with spanner crab and sea urchin butter; and casarecce with Boer goat ragu from The Gourmet Goat Lady (consider sharing; portions are 150 grams).

Scarpinocc (“little shoes”) are filled with a dense puree of Andean sunrise potatoes ($30), the classic indentations on top acting as tiny pools for the delicious emulsion of balsamic vinegar and parmigiano. Damn, this is good, although the shavings of parmigiano feel a bit ’90s.

There is steak, of course – an 800-gram Rangers Valley rib-eye is yours to share for $180. A more modest dish of spatchcock ($38) is fine, crusted with crunchy Asian-adjacent spices, chilli oil and soy. To end, an almond and plum frangipane tart ($16) is gussied up with a dollop of mascarpone.

Big Night comes to mind once again, as staff ferry dishes of pasta and gelati to tables of corporates and couples. Palazzo Salato has the crowds, the buzz and the apparent success (Pascal’s); and yet it doesn’t feel as if anything has been compromised (Paradise).

The pasta is made properly, sauces are beautifully balanced, produce is from the best in the business, and vegetables are highly seasonal. There’s candlelight, scalloped plates, a massive wine list and intuitive wine service.

It makes Big Night even more poignant to know that the two seemingly intractable philosophies – integrity versus commerce – can be fused.