Fortunately the Barbabietole et Rucola ($20.95) restores our enthusiasm. The beets create a rich, vibrant red hue and add an elegant note to the supple grains. The heated risotto is placed in the centre of a giant parmesan wheel and stirred just long enough to absorb some bite from the cheese and acquire a garnish of shimmering shavings.

Much to my delight, the menu features the astoundingly silky gnocchi swimming in sharp gorgonzola and sweet drizzles of Jack Daniels and strawberry puree ($12.95). We are stuffed, there is not a trace of the gnocchi or sauce to be found, but Cico insists we have a taste of the desserts. A small irresistible square of Tiramisu ($7.95) and a sliver of Chocolate Salami (dark chocolate studded with nuts and flavour sliced to resemble a cocoa junkie’s wet dream of what luncheon meat should be, $7.95) materializes at our table.

The Vittorio’s tradition of hospitality is also intact. Cico works the room relentlessly (I hope his heart is being monitored by professionals) making sure that no request is refused and that each plate is perfect. The staff is slightly frazzled as they adjust to a new working environment but are out-going and eager to please.

Happily sipping wine (a Yellowtail Merlot, $30) we contemplate future encounters with the rest of the tapas - I mean “Small Plates” - menu. The couple next to us are Vittorio regulars and have lived in the area for an unspecified but lengthy time. Bizarre gossip and stories are related about the past of the building ranging from Mafioso and Nazi former owners and the distinct possibility that there are more ghosts. The couples’ qualifications for reporting are that they ran a boarding house down the street before an influx of “topless waitresses” brought down the quality.

The location is not as convenient, and parking is not ample, but food fanatics prematurely terrorized by the impending (in about two years) demise of Vittorio’s on Yonge can breathe a sigh of relief. Vittorio’s on Avenue is now open and any fears about the quality and atmosphere decreasing in a larger space appear to be utterly unfounded (based on the opening night’s performance anyways). Cico should not have to resort to the area’s apparently bountiful supply of “topless waitresses” to keep seats filled, though I’m sure the ghost of Vittorio would gleefully drink to the idea. Cheers to life’s excesses! -D.R.