Rustico

96-97 Commercial Road,

Swindon, SN1 5PL

Tel: 01793 251000

Bring on the competition... Swindon’s newest Italian has the recipe for success, says MICHELLE TOMPKINS

WHO’D have thought Swindon could sustain yet another Italian restaurant?

When Rustico opened its doors last autumn I had my doubts whether it could do battle with the big guns already pulling in the town’s pasta and pizza lovers - Fratellos in the town centre, Fabios up in Old Town and La Carbonara down at Westcott Place.

Surely with these and the many, many others competing to serve up Italian fare, Rustico had its work cut out to get people through the doors, let alone keep them coming back for more?

But it turns out someone at Rustico has their head screwed on. Because far from being ‘yet another’ Italian, Rustico is offering something fresher, more modern and completely different to any of the others vying for trade. Combine that with fantastic food and exceptional customer service, and this place just might be onto a winner.

We visited on a murky Saturday night, with the rain lashing down outside, and were relieved to find the door held open for us by a very enthusiastic doorman. If I’m honest, I found his exuberance – “Welcome, welcome, how lovely to see you... isn’t it dreadful outside? Is this your first time? Let me take your coats...” – a little overbearing, but I’m sure that’s just me. Most people love that kind of fuss and he was, after all, only doing his job, albeit in a slightly ingratiating way.

There were plenty of other tables occupied already, but such is the vast floor space that we still had our pick of where to sit.

There are no remnants of the restaurant’s former life as a Chinese buffet left. The decor on one side has been replaced with an exposed stone wall, with uplighters adding a modern twist, and the old circular tables I remember of old are now stripped back pine or beech squares, with sleek leather chairs pulled up to them. The effect is contemporary yet warm, not unlike the style of Pizza Express (and it never did them any harm).

One look at the starters menu and we knew immediately what we wanted. Dough twists (£3.85), garlic prawns (£6.95) and mini pizzas (£4.45) are all on offer, but our eyes were drawn to the antipasti sharing platters, in our case the Rustico special at £11.75.

What arrived surpassed our expectations; a giant plateful of cured meats, olives, artichoke hearts, buffalo mozzarella, sundried tomatoes and grilled vegetables, with chunks of fresh bread for mopping up the juices. It was sensational, especially the soft artichokes and vegetables, charred on the edges and glistening with oil.

There’s also a vegetarian platter, with porcini mushrooms, olives and cheeses for the same price, and smaller platters for £6.95.

The platter was a meal in itself, but since we’d both ordered pizzas to follow there was no option but to plough on (slowly) with the next course. I’d gone for more artichokes on the Sicilian (£9.95), also dotted with roasted peppers, mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, goats cheese and basil, while my partner had picked the Rustico speciality (£9.95) of roast chicken, mozzarella, provolone cheese, gorgonzola and red onions.

The pizzas were enormous and crispy thin on the base - just how I like them - with those slightly scorched edges that make a successful crust. I managed about half of mine, but felt no shame in requesting the rest be boxed up to take home. It was even better cold for breakfast the next morning.

The Rustico also looked amazing and my partner made a valiant effort to see it off.

What possessed us to order a dessert I don’t know. Well, actually I do - it was reading in the Chef’s Table column that chef Massimo Nerola specialises in making a limoncello tiramisu (£4.95). Some might call it greed, I prefer to think of it as research.

Regardless, the slice we enjoyed between us delivered everything an Italian dessert should; rich, rich flavour and a hit of alcohol. It was to die for, but I’d have to order one of the menu’s skinny pizzas next time (wholemeal dough with a salad centre) if I wanted to truly do it justice.

After two hours of what felt like solid eating, that doorman was back again with our coats and the offer of a cab to take us home. Barely able to move, we accepted, as we did the umbrella he held over our heads as we plodded to the car.

Suddenly he wasn’t quite so annoying after all.