AF Reeves (@afreeves23)

I had other plans for this month’s piece. Ones I’m still dedicated to, so watch this space. But when a friend (cheers, Brandon) whose taste you trust sends a commanding poster of a deer and the promise of good company, copious vino and the delivery of said woodland creature served in properly Italian style, who am I to argue?

STROMBOLATA: A rare opportunity to try a true homemade Italian dish, an invention from the owner Leo's past. Photos courtesy of @afreeves23

Despite spending time in Italy at any whisper of an opportunity, and loving the passion Italians express so freely, my linguistic skills are vastly eclipsed by my adoration for the gastronomic expressions of this culinary titan. As partial as I am to neighbouring cuisines, Italian food truly makes my heart sing.

While Italian dining is certainly a fine thing, it is the preservation, almost to the point of preference, towards the rustic which appeals. Certainly not lacking in precision, there is a notable lack of pretension in how the food is prepared and presented.

This was clear at this month’s ‘tavolaccia’, where upwards of 20 guests, some well acquainted and others as fresh-faced as myself, gathered in a humble yet abundant testimony to the value of food and friendship.

SINCE 1997: It's hard to believe that I was only five years old when this institution first opened their doors.

The ability of Italian food and culture to tread that almost paradoxical line between inclusion and extravagance is what so endears me to it. The promise of an afternoon that embodied all of these things easily turned my head. The 'tavolaccia', I’m reliably informed, is an in-house tradition rather than a commonly known term, which may go some way to unfurrowing the brows of our Italian readership.

It speaks to the nature of the event, etymologically derived from and focused around one long, communal table where guests share in a selection of classic, seasonal, regional and occasionally unique dishes, specially curated by Chef Leo each month. Chef and proprietor of Mediterraneo, Leo hails from Ancona, a coastal city looking out to the Adriatic Sea, and after moving to Việt Nam roughly three decades ago, fell in love with the country as so many of us have.

SPEZZATINO DI CERVO: The communal centrepiece, a mighty portion of Venison to feed a whole room of hungry Italophiles.

At 27 years of continuous operation and counting, Mediterraneo is the godfather, or at least the most senior, of Việt Nam’s Italian restaurants. What is refreshing is to see the restaurant not only still Italian-owned, but more importantly still Italian-operated. Leo is very much a hands-on presence, deeply involved in the cooking and curation of life at the restaurant. Something rare enough to be celebrated.

Between himself, his wife Lan Anh and nephew Jess, there is always a family member on hand to ensure the experience rings as true as the bells of St Joseph’s Cathedral that literally chimed through the dining room as we ate. Arguably Hà Nội’s most famous European landmark stands only a hundred or so metres from the very same front door they opened almost three decades ago, picturesque from the upstairs balcony.

TAVOLACCIA: Wine glasses line the antipasto board like a crowd around a parade.

Pay attention to the warm aesthetic of hardwood and lean into the recurrent clink of glasses, and you could be forgiven a lapse in personal geography as you are visibly and audibly transported to a classic trattoria in the old town of an Italian city, with a charm that cuts through the bustle of nearby tourists. Somehow, despite having lived a stone’s throw from here, it’s my first visit, and a better occasion I couldn’t have chosen.

Tavolaccia starts, customarily, with baskets packed with bruschetta and grissini alongside the classic duo of olive oil and balsamic. It’s from here that the wine begins to flow, starting with a bottle of 2023 Vette San Leonardo Sauvignon Blanc, northern Italian. Dry, fresh and full-bodied with a peachy aroma even an amateur such as myself could detect.

It is a laid-back atmosphere and guests mingle and make polite introductions. There is laughter and a sense of anticipation only impending antipasti can provide.

SEASONAL: A cinnamon spiced, sweet apple frittata is exactly what was needed to round off the feast.

It arrives as two long wooden boards, imposing enough that one side of the table rises and temporarily retreats in order for three staff to lift each one into place. It is everything anybody of sound mind could be gleeful about. Cold cuts, antipasti, charcuterie, whatever you wish to call it, is surely the pinnacle of casual shared dining. This is a board with intent: stuffed olives and sharp pickled veg with an acidity that keeps everything honest.

Capocollo: thick ribbons, red and saline, fine marbling on show, folded into rose-like bouquets. Speck, neatly wrapped around soft goat’s cheese and firm asparagus. A Tuscan pâté arrives rich and a touch nutty, the sort that renders even the finest bread a simple vessel. Triangles of caciocavallo balance the lot, firm yet smooth, mild, sweet, buttery. Both an accompaniment and a reset between bites.

FRESHLY BAKED: House made Italian style bread is an excellent touch and perfect for soaking up olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

The story piece of the board is undoubtedly the strombolata, a first for me. This slow, cold, marinated onion soup is charged with anchovy, chilli and capers. Born in tight quarters during his time working on a boat, built from what was at hand, Leo has brought it ashore and refined it for Mediterraneo. Simple in essence, deep and complex in flavour, a sailor’s recipe turned dining-room keeper.

Ignoring advice to save space for what was to come, I indulged in only three helpings of the day’s centrepiece: spezzatino di cervo. Thick chunks of now-tender venison, braised and slow-cooked for over three hours with carrots, onions, tomatoes, herbs and of course red wine.

The result is nothing short of an autumnal revelation. As the seasons change, the comfort and warmth of a thick stew that soaks so deeply into the creamy polenta that accompanies it is more than welcome.

ANTIPASTO: Are there any greater joys in life than cheese, dry-cured meat and all their accompaniments?

Showcased in an enormous pan, intended to satisfy an entire room of hungry Italophiles, the communal style of serving seems fitting for the occasion. As I finish off another glass of seemingly unlimited red and tuck into my second slice of sweet apple frittata, cinnamon-scented for the season, I reflect on what a wonderful concept the ‘tavolaccia’ is.

At just over VNĐ1 million (US$42), it was a privilege to be here as the guest of one of Hà Nội’s culinary institutions. The gathering is held monthly by Leo and the Mediterraneo team as a thank you and a reminder to loyal customers that they do not go unnoticed or under-appreciated, even in a location where tourism and walk-ins would almost surely make for a more profitable afternoon.

This is where food meets friendship. Warmth and generosity pour as easily as the wine and conversation, and even a random Brit like myself can feel at home. Salute. VNS

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Mediterraneo

Address: 23 Nhà Thờ Street, Hàng Trống, Hoàn Kiếm, Hà Nội

Tel: 0833 397 414

Price: VNĐ1.1million or US$42 (all inclusive)

Dining companions: Fellow friends of the restaurant, pay patronage and you will become a welcome addition to a lovely afternoon.

Top tip: Come down and try the food anytime, it’s good all month round.