Where and what

Don't ask me why it's called The Way to San Jose. I don't have a clue, although just like the upbeat Burt Bacharach/Hal David song, this stylish suburban eatery is pretty much guaranteed to deliver a burst of happiness. It boasts a dazzling bespoke fitout that nonetheless fits comfortably into the McKinnon 'hood, a great team of waiters, food with an Italian soul and some fine pizza. It's all here.

Where to sit

Orio Randi, of artisan woodwork shop Arteveneta, opened The Way to San Jose with partner Emma Clarke towards the end of 2012, and the timber-loving fitout showcases the work he's long performed in the service of the Melbourne hospitality industry (Izakaya Den, Neapoli, DOC and many, many more). Even the American oak floor is a thing of beauty; the long bar, decorated with sunny retro tiles of white and yellow, features high wooden seats for two, and the rear room is no consolation prize, with an indoor-outdoor feel, white-painted brick and a view of the open kitchen.

Randi and Clarke, who runs the floor with quiet aplomb, imposed a patina of age on their new baby, so vintage lights dangle in clusters, and the windows are stained glass. A fun-loving vinyl soundtrack (it's been a while since I heard Abba) makes light work of a frenetic Saturday-night service.

Drink

Mostly Victorian and a little bit Italian, the wallet-friendly wine list will have something for everyone.

Eat

There are pizzerias, and there are places that do a mean pizza as a part of their native Italian repertoire. The Way to San Jose is in the latter camp, with a simple, fuss-free menu that captures Italian food's essential brio. Take the starter of globe artichokes: fried, so the ''petals'' bloom into pull-apart things of crunchy-salty loveliness, served with suckable strips of lardo (pig fat), rocket and mashed potato. A tumble of fried calamari is non-greasily addictive; the pizza is ruggedly puffy around the extremities, boldly charry and with no funny toppings business - the capricciosa is as classic as Michelangelo's David. Pasta? Gnocchi doesn't disappoint, with a gorgonzola sauce fielding correct weight in blue cheese funk. Desserts are the usual blockbusters: creme brulee, tiramisu, gelato - or what the hell, go the Nutella calzone.

When to go

Tuesday to Sunday, 3pm-late (full menu starts at 5pm).

Who's there

Half of McKinnon, by the look of it.

Why bother?

The Way to San Jose is paved with good intentions and fine execution.