Maintaining a sunny disposition throughout a Vancouver winter is a challenge all its own. Luckily for us, we have Osteria Elio Volpe (or, more endearingly, ‘Elio’) – the namesake bright and bubbly younger cousin to Banda Volpi’s sage and savvy Osteria Savio Volpe (aka ‘Savio’) – with its light-hearted lean towards cocktails and shared plates, to take comfort in over the season ahead.

Pushing past Elio’s faded yellow door, I was greeted by a similarly hued vintage telephone, with its round, oversized rotary dial. Glancing around the room, I noticed that much was round and yellow – the friendliest shape and colour – and I couldn’t help but smile. At the time of my visit, it was only 5:08pm (they open at 5pm) but the room was already three-quarters full. As I followed the host, Cameron, to take my seat at the corner of the bar, we bonded over our commonalities of both being from Maple Ridge, and having lost a dear umbrella (or two) to rainy day dinners in the city.

Perhaps it was the gloom and darkness pressing in on the glass behind me – or my low blood sugar – but what had been forecasted as cloudy with a 70% chance of rain when I left home, had become rainy with 100% chance of pasta. After much deliberation between the calabreselli alla vodka and rigatoni cacio e pepe, I went with the latter. (I later got to try the calabreselli – which was delightful – courtesy of another solo diner sitting beside me; along with a carpaccio of Sidestripe shrimp pounded so thinly they melted upon contact with my tongue.)

The rest of my order was simple: grilled treviso with roasted grapes, and marinated cerignola olives to snack on. To ease my indecision regarding what to drink, my server Laurel thoughtfully offered me the option of doing half-glasses of two different white wines: the first to pair with the olives; the second in accompaniment with the rigatoni and treviso, which were served in tandem. Do I remember the names of the wines? No. But that had nothing to do with the joy that ensued. The olives were meaty and briny, lightly softened by the thinnest ribbons of candied citrus rind. The treviso, which was dressed in aged balsamic, was smokey, bitter and sharp, and balanced by the addition of more than a few “token” roasted grapes, which were jammy and supple. The rigatoni was playfully toothsome, and draped with just enough sauce. There was no fanfare – just honest, generous cooking. A rarity, especially in this economy.

In a city relatively recently graced by the Michelin guide, where the pressure to impress is paramount, the Elio experience felt refreshingly effortless. Everything — from the food and drinks, to the decor, level of service and general ambience – were all undoubtedly contemplated, creating a sense of unconditional welcome. No matter how chaotic your day has been, or how intense the conversation you’re bracing for is, Elio will make it all feel lighter. (It’s a special feeling; like nervously approaching a lively table, only for everyone to graciously “scooch” over to make room for you, without a word or a second thought. That’s Elio.)

If, like me, you’re able to lose track of time here, they’ll kindly remind you of it – if only so you don’t miss out on dessert. For me, “dessert” was their house Amaro. As I sipped, I experienced a lushness that lingered well beyond the glass, and I could imagine myself somewhere with sepia sunshine shimmering across honey-clear waves, and orange trees swaying gently just outside of the frame. Suddenly, the chill of winter didn’t seem so bad.

Osteria Elio Volpe

Neighbourhood: West Side

540 West 17th Ave.

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