Pop-up restaurants are terrific for the punters: they provide an experience whose appeal is, in part, a result of its evanescence, which lends it an air of exclusivity (it's not "Have you eaten at ...?" but "Did you eat at ...?").
They are also, no doubt, good for the popper-uppers: their capital costs are minimal, since they almost invariably occupy others' premises and their modest ambitions of longevity let them take the creative risks that are lamentably rare around town. (When was the last time you said, "Well, I've never tasted anything like that before"?)
But pop-ups present a challenge to the reviewer, whose work requires more than posting emojis of their best friends' eateries on a Twitter feed. By the time a review appears, the venture may be about to close or may have already closed.
All this is by way of saying that Cotto, which set up shop a month ago in the premises of a bar suggestively named 69, is one-third of the way through its planned lifespan, so you're going to have to move fast if you haven't already been. And go you should.
Everything about the venture - except perhaps the funky fitout, more bar than eatery - is perfect, from the simple yet evocative name (it's Italian for "cooked") through the menu (which has the work of a local artist on the back) to the $10 dolci, which is the Italian word for "pudding".
But the reason to go is to eat what must surely be the best pasta in town, handmade virtually on the spot and dressed up in ways that will have you saying, "Well, I've never tasted anything like that before."
You may, like me, remember when you first felt like this: about 15 years ago at Delicious in West Lynn, which served great pasta and smart sauces that I'd never met but have now become standard (broad bean, ricotta and mint ravioli; tagliatelle with zucchini). They may have made the Italian purist sneer, but they made my heart sing.
Delicious became legendary for the surliness and rudeness respectively of two of the people involved but its spirit lived on at The Refreshment Room in Scenic Dr and is reincarnated at Cotto, where pasta maestros John Pountney and Hayden Phiskie, alumni of both those places, are in the kitchen.
Of the several hundred kinds of pasta the Italians have come up with over the past millennium, Cotto's $20 selections offer only three (one of which, a rotolo, is like a Swiss roll filled with porcini, silverbeet and sausage), along with a dish of gnocchi and a risotto. These last two were state of the art: the gnocchi (made with kumara, not potato) so marshmallow-soft you could chew it with your tongue, was bathed in a creamy sauce of gorgonzola (the most agreeably smelly of Italian cheeses) and walnut; the risotto of smoked fish and leek was sensuously smooth but still perfectly al dente. Meanwhile the pasta known as maltagliati (it means "badly torn" and is traditionally made of scraps and offcuts) was a novel base for a knockout beef-cheek ragu.
Risotto - Saffron, fennel, buffalo mozzarella
Terrific starters included pork belly, roasted and then given the Venetian saor treatment of white wine vinegar, and buttery dumplings of spinach and goat cheese, topped with burnt sage, which were, er, delicious.
If these guys' food is new to you, you're in for a treat. If you are just renewing an old acquaintance, I suspect that, like me, you'll be hoping like hell they pop up somewhere else, soon and to stay.