From the enchanting entrance hall displaying posters of Italian festivals and foodstuffs from the "boot," we made our way up a flight of stairs and into the second-floor dining room. Like a true trattoria, Il Pacioccone's interior has a homely, rustic look with bright orange tablecloths, framed liquor ads hanging from chipped beige walls, and bare tree trunks supporting a ceiling painted roughly in scarlet. Once shown to our table, we immediately put our diligent waiter to work with an order of the house red wine (¥600) and a limoncello aperitif (¥600). 

Our surroundings made lively by incessant orders barked in Italian as well as the chatter of the predominantly female patronage, we carefully perused the menu-written on a chalkboard-and opted to begin with the prosciutto di Parma (¥1,200) and cozze marinara (peppered mussels in white wine sauce, ¥800). The steaming mussels, now in season, were delectably chewy and piquant, while the slivers of prosciutto with figs made for a great treat with focaccia, which we downed with fizzy Surgiva mineral water (¥700/bottle) from the Brenta Alps. 

We almost felt sorry watching our waiter clambering up the stairs with an enormous slab of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, which we soon discovered contained our other starter, risotto parmigiano (¥1,000). Scooping helpings onto our plates, our man in the black apron explained how the famed Italian cheese infused its rich aroma into the cooked rice, and true to his word, we needed no extra seasoning to enjoy the plain but immensely savory primo piatto. 

Following a brief interval spent gazing at the expressway overpass and draining another glass of wine, a huge portion of salsiccia alla griglia (grilled homemade sausage, ¥1,500) arrived along with seared zucchini and a special helping of polenta-a daring, personal request generously fulfilled by the Florence-trained chefs down below. Judging by the several slabs of salami hanging from the ceiling, we had decided a pork entrée to be worthy of a try, and indeed, the salsiccia proved a feast of spicy chunks of authentic Italian meat made even tastier with dashes of virgin olive oil.

Knowing our night wouldn't be complete without a dainty dolce and an espresso, we decided on the panna cotta (¥500), a rare delicacy in Tokyo, especially one as good as the sweetened baked cream that sat on our plates shortly afterward. Stuffed, content and swaying to the soothing lyrics of Andrea Boccelli, our Italy immersion was complete-to the point of not even noticing our check was written entirely in Italian too.