Santini

Sicilian polish above the Portomaso masts — competent beef that lately prefers riding a fettuccine Alfredo to standing alone.

The review

Santini does the Italian marina fantasy properly: level three above the Portomaso yachts, handmade pasta, lava-grilled fish, service with Sicilian warmth. The beef tartare, though, feels like a guest in its own house. Mine was finely cut and politely seasoned, but it had the composed stillness of something assembled ahead of the rush rather than à la minute — pleasant, cool, a little muted. A telling detail: on the current menu the standalone tartare has vanished altogether, folded into a fettuccine Alfredo with 36-month Parmigiano and white truffle oil, where the raw beef plays condiment. That pasta, honestly, is the better argument. Come for the handmade pasta and the masts at sunset; the tartare is supporting cast.

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