Seared beef tongue. Zabaglione custard with whipped egg yolk and Marsala. Housemade salumi. Handmade pastas. House-cured olives. Roasted duck breast. Fresh-baked bread. These are the indulgences that will thwack your epicurean pomposity silly. But David and Jennifer Uygur’s Lucia is more than just unfussy Italian fare, er Italian comfort food. It’s a cozy 36-seat repose in what is perhaps the city’s most stimulating neighborhood. With a tin ceiling, transom windows, a mutt-match of chairs, and faux abused tabletops, Lucia almost demands lingering, which is what diners mostly do in the boot anyway.

The New York Times calls Lucia “the best restaurant in Texas” at present (it seems to have a new “best restaurant in Texas” each Sunday). We don’t know if we’d go that far, but we sure would avoid a sweat fighting the designation. Just whiffing the fume from the attractively tiled, open kitchen is enough to strike one with the foodie vapors (low-cooked lamb shoulder with olives, tomatoes, and polenta—oooh). Relish the relics: the rustic cupboards, the art, the paper goods, the hand-cranked pasta machine, and other collectible ephemera. Is Dallas really starting to get a sultry Latin vibrato out of its six-shooters? Dang if it ain’t.