Baggage Claim P.
Google
Parked in a dungeon across the road… I emerged squinting, mildly resentful, and immediately felt better the moment I stepped into Tiamo, which is what happens when an Italian restaurant decides not to chase trends, influencers, or lighting that allows you to see what you’re eating. It’s dark, it’s homely, it’s friendly, and the accents are so thick you could spread them on toast. Perfect.
You walk in and immediately feel like you’ve interrupted someone’s family lunch, which is exactly how you know you’re in the right place. The place runs effortlessly, like it’s been doing this forever because it has. No theatre, no nonsense, just quiet confidence and plates that know what they’re doing.
The Pinot Noir and the Pinot Grigio were exactly what lunch wine should be, yummy, forgiving, and happy to be there. They didn’t demand attention, they supported it. Ideal companions for an afternoon where no one’s in a hurry.
To start, bruschetta and chicken livers, and yes, I ordered them in a place with lighting so low I was trusting the kitchen on faith alone. The bruschetta was honest and generous, the livers rich and comforting, the kind of dish that tells you they’ve stopped trying to impress people and started feeding them instead.
Then came the mains: spaghetti marinara, absolutely delicious, briny, full, and unashamedly itself. The warm chicken salad was equally spot-on; simple, well-balanced, and cooked by someone who understands restraint.
Tiamo works because it doesn’t try. It feels like a home kitchen that accidentally became famous and never bothered to update the decor. Friendly service, effortless food, no ego, just a superlative Italian experience that reminds you why Carlton still matters.
I’ll be back.
I’ll park in the dungeon again.
It’s worth the climb.