It seems that every couple of weeks another Italian restaurant crops up doing that whole “nonna” cookin’ schtick. These restaurants are like a wave washing upon a shore. A shore littered with the remains of those restaurants’ Italian brethren where their grandmothers may, or may not have, been in the kitchen. Normally, I’d say that Toronto doesn’t need more Italian fare served up. I really would. If only the fare wasn’t so damn good.