A big nugget of Parmigiano-Reggiano, spicy slices of fried zucchini, bruschetta, Italian bread, focaccia crisps. Flutes of Prosecco. The menu (voluminous, plus about 30 verbally recited specials). A bowl of pasta e fagioli and a trio of breaded, garlicky shrimp, each the size of a lobster. Endive salad — a palate-cleanser of sorts. A magnum of Barolo. Pillows of porcini ravioli in a champagne-black truffle cream sauce. Whole salt-crusted branzino deboned tableside and accented with olive oil and lemon. With potatoes, succulently roasted in garlic and sage, on the side. No. Make that veal saltimbocca with fettuccine Alfredo alongside. Hell, make it a double-cut veal chop, seared on the grill. With the roast potatoes. An order of wild salmon, too, to get something of a surf-and-turf going. Tiramisu for dessert. And a trifle of flourless chocolate cake. With sabayon sauce. Cappuccino, of course. A glass of complimentary homemade vin santo dessert wine. The check (pastas $16 to $34, entrées $20 to $45). An after-dinner mint? Why not?