The best (and worst) Italians in Liverpool

I’ve not always been a fan of Italian food. When I was still a regular gym-goer, I ignorantly considered it unnecessarily carby — pizza, pasta and pane. That was, until a few years ago when I and a few colleagues decided to spend our corporate Christmas meal gift at Bacaro on Castle Street, and sampled a far wider selection than your stereotypical menu: seafood, cured meats and a wine list and cheeseboard worthy of a bacchanal. 

Liverpool has never been short on Italian restaurants, as anyone who has seen the queues up Stanley Street for Casa Italia can attest to. In recent years, we’ve even benefited from regional varieties: Rudy’s Neopolitan pizzas or Francie’s Genovese/Bolognese-inspired butties. Before Carlo Ancelotti was lured away by Real Madrid, he could often be found dining at the now sadly lamented Il Forno on Duke Street.

But which sit at the top of the city’s gastronomic Serie A, and which deserve to be consigned to the deepest circle of Dante’s Inferno? We at The Post set out to investigate.

Casa Italia

Almost synonymous with “Liverpool Italian”, this family restaurant has enjoyed pride of place on Stanley Street since 1976. With the Eleanor Rigby statue opposite and the “gentlemen’s club” next door, it forms a kind of Triangle of Sadness right in the heart of the city — that’s if you believe our Jack Walton, who several years ago tore into Casa Italia like a piece of garlic bread sopped in olive oil.

Disbelieving that anything Scousers stand in line for could be poor quality (next you’ll be telling me Nike Air Max 95s are naff or Everton can’t play football), I headed there myself. 

Even before the queues, the restaurant is heaving in the early afternoon. The décor is to be commended: Roman arches, large bronze water jugs, wall mosaics and wood panelling give the place a warm, cozy ambiance. 

Considering the rapid turnover of families and groups of teenagers at the door, you might expect the food to be cheap and cheerful. I’m not sure it’s either: there’s nothing wrong with the carbonara, except that at £14.40 I might have expected a larger portion and to be offered parmesan and cracked black pepper at the table. (Unless the price is running past £20 I will allow for pancetta or even bacon lardons as a substitute for guanciale.) The polpette is pretty basic, and the tiramisu was not bad, which to be fair is almost as good as it gets outside of Italy. 

Casa Italia definitely feels authentic — if it was a tad quieter, you could easily imagine yourself assassinating Solozzo and Sterling Hayden in here. But despite its history and unique connection to the city, this tastes a bit like a chain.

Francie’s Focaccia & Coffee

Ever since Rob Gutmann 1.0 (the trendy nightclub version, not his 1880s pub landlord/taxidermy enthusiast regeneration) transformed the once post-apocalyptic Albert Dock into one of the city’s most desirable spaces, the complex has been blessed with a variety of chic eateries — and cursed by high prices.

One of the latest additions to this firmament for affluent foodies is “Liverpool’s first focacceria.” That’s according to Francie’s owners, who were inspired during a recent pilgrimage to Emilia Romagna — Italy’s ingredient capital.

Now, I’m a sucker for hot honey. So the fact that one of their butties has that over two kinds of salami, rocket, and (oddly) stracciatella on freshly baked pillowy bread makes it a winner for me. Plus the pistachio-encrusted coffee they brought me looked and tasted amazing. Sipping and eating these while overlooking the dock’s shimmering waters makes you feel somewhat sophisticated. 

But my mate was less impressed with the mortadella and pistachio, and after a cheeky nibble I had to agree.