Magari Pasta, Milsom Place, Bath

In a city that’s currently struggling to digest the restaurant world version of a modern Roman invasion, Magari Pasta have taken a bold step in opening the doors to their second venture in Bath. The original Magari thrives in Bristol’s hip street food destination Wapping Wharf, a mere 14-ish miles from Bath but world’s apart in terms of — well, all kinds of everything the tale of two cities can tell us, really. 

But just a handful of weeks since opening in the Escher-style enclave that is Bath’s Milsom Place, Magari is already proving that not all Italian restaurants in the city are equal — and Magari is ahead of the curve in terms of all the good stuff that an authentic ‘modern Italian’ eating out experience offers.

For a start, the vibe on MP’s upper level terraces feels more Bergen than Bath… and the same could be said of Magari itself. The attitude is Scandi-style seductive (blond rafters raising the roof; clean-cut tables in a clean-cut layout; big windows letting big light in), and the décor as smart, fresh and uplifting as the restaurant’s ethos: “We have chosen to do as the farmers of the past,” I learn; “if an ingredient is not there, we adopt a similar one, and we often discover that it fits, thus creating a new variant…”

And thus we embark on a journey around a confidently concise menu that puts locally sourced produce (currently including Sussex Charmer cheese, CackleBean eggs, Ruby and White sausages and OddKin Coffee — something tells me there will be many more suppliers to come) at the heart of a small, self-assured selection of Italian classics from bruschetta to tiramisu by way of a neat line-up of saucy pastas. And who doesn’t swoon at the very mention of saucy pastas, especially when they slink along to a chilled out beat that forthrightly eschews elaborate descriptions and thankfully avoids promises of the dreaded “like mamma/Nonna used to make” platitudes? 

To begin, a neat duo of beautifully-presented bruschettas, one laden with a super-umami, super-piquant tapenade of leccino olives and capers, and a second topped with intensely-flavoured sundried tomatoes and bright, herby basil oil. We tried a luxuriously rich burrata too, oozing that burrata-specific, creamy curds’n’cream combo (stracciatella, don’cha know) and served with more of that basil oil, more of those slinky tomatoes and scrumptious bread. A carafe of rosé, a jug of water, views into a remarkably calm-under-pressure open kitchen that made me want to get in there and cook but in all honestly made me glad that I didn’t have to: stop right there and go no further, and all’s already well with the world. And then…

Silky carbonara made with golden egg yolks and dotted with depth-charge flavoursome nuggets of Guanciale, all pleasantly gritted by nutty-fresh Pecorino Romano. More of that Guanciale, this time in a spicy, chilli- and black pepper-laden Amatriciana sauce. And then…

What do you get if you muddle anchovy-infused butter with breadcrumbs, white wine and lemon zest and tumble the whole lot through pasta? If you’re in the wrong hands (or trying this one at home, which I strongly advise against), you get a watery puddle of raw wine, gritty fish, soggy crusts and oily pasta held together by chewy pith. If, however, you order Magari’s Alici, you’ll be instantly transported to a magical place where the essential components of so many classic pasta sauces can, in their own right, create one of the loveliest pasta dishes you’ve ever eaten — guaranteed.

The pasta itself (you can’t miss seeing loads of the fresh stuff neatly displayed in glass drawers at the entrance to the restaurant) is sturdy and confidently al dente. The prices are inordinately down-to-earth, especially when you consider the quality of the ingredients. And overall, the whole experience is a paean to How To Eat Out Today, quietly resetting our where and how we do that principles by serving thoughtful, generous, feel good food rooted in tradition but cheerfully waltzing along to a contemporary beat.

In a city that’s currently struggling to digest the restaurant world version of a modern Roman invasion, Magari is spearheading a much-needed revolution.