Norma’s shtick is its house-made semolina pasta: punchy, prawn-laden linguini; cheesy, al dente conchiglione shells that might capture mushroom, peas and salty pops of guanciale; and those enormous tubes called paccheri, sauced with rich ragu.

But the power and wide appeal comes from its laser-like focus on the good stuff. Street seats are primed for pear Bellinis and loading white anchovies onto fresh-torn bread.

Tick-a-box, order-at-the-bar menus mean it’s easy to summon (excellent) extras, such as lemon-bright borlotti bean dip, pickled vegetables with fat coins of salami, or miniature pork schnitzels with “tonnato sauce”, and there’s a tight list of local and Italian beers and wines.

Smart stuff, right to the bittersweet finish of Campari-spiked blood orange juice, poured over passionfruit sorbet.