LIzzie Renkert, fashion label co-owner and former magazine editor from Cremorne

WHERE

Pasta Emilia, Surry Hills.

WHY

"It makes me feel like I'm in Italy.  Other than Australia, Italy is my favourite place in the whole world.

"My desk in my office looks directly across the road to it.  One day, I was starving and grabbed my sister, who is my business partner, and had such a lovely lunch. There's something to be said for doing it the way the Italians do and having a glass or red and taking your time. It was just incredible and ever since we have taken our families there and have had birthdays there. Our family is very loud – there are 20 of us and the staff put up with us.

It's quite rustic and charming even though it is the middle of Surry Hillls. It's got that family look to it, it feels really homely, it doesn't feel like a special architect has come in and made it super cool – that's not what it's about. It's about the food and it's got a really lovely energy."

WHAT

 "I tend to always order the ragu pasta and the desserts are amazing and I get them to bring whatever wine they suggest because I'm not very good at wine. The fact that they make their own pasta is really lovely too. They supply lots of other premises. "

ABOUT

"If I do cook, I tend to cook Italian, but other than that it's very simple. I love food, but I love food that other people cook! I've eaten at such amazing restaurants that I'm always disappointed by what I cook at home. I don't try very hard.

"I'm really busy working on We Are Kindred with my sister. In the fashion industry, you're always six months ahead,  so I'm working on next year's autumn/winter collection now.  We started the label in late November, and I do a morning fashion segment on Channel Nine every week. And I have two small children."

Pasta Emilia,

259 Riley Street,

Surry Hills,

Phone: 9212 1069

www.emilia.com.au.

Entrees, $7.5 - $25; mains, $19 - $32; desserts, $9.50. $90 for two, plus drinks.

Star rating ★★★★

★★★★★ Molasses magic

★★★★ Sugar and spice

★★★ Sweet syrup

★★ Sticky business

★ Burnt treacle

Says Daisy Dumas:

A molasses factory is a sticky kind of a place. So enduringly gummy and gooey, in fact, that it took many days of high-pressure hosing, coaxing and swearing (perhaps) to remove years of grime from the rundown shell of a building that was to become the spit and polished, warm den of durum-wheat goodness that is Pasta Emilia.

The Riley Street bolt hole remains a factory of sorts, this time producing great tracts of fresh pasta, mountains of tortelli and swaths of tagliatelle, rather than black treacle. Its history is now unrecognisable, give or take the odd clue – a tangle of industrial pipe work sits behind a table for two nestled next to the open fridge full of takeaway pasta. Exposed beams, shelves painted a deliciously retro soft green and terracotta-coloured paving stones give the big, would-be echoey room warmth. And beyond looks, on a cold winter's night, it's deceptively toasty, too.

I fell for this place from the offset. How couldn't you? Anna Maria Eoclidi, creative dynamo in check, waits on us as she oversees her family-like team of Emilia-Romagna countrywomen and men (and a half-French, half-Greek gentleman whose heritage completes the great Mediterranean gastronomic trifecta). She is so down to earth and humble that her clever business sense hides behind hard-working kneading hands. Eoclidi says that while it looks unfinished, it took many months of work to get it to where it is today (a leap from her old rook in Bronte, the move completed about two years ago). To be sure, it's actually taken many centuries – flavours and techniques are true to her motherland, without any fusion distraction. This is as honest as food can be when it is 16,500 kilometres from its home.

We start with a sharing platter of mixed salumi, pickles and cheese with garlic bruschetta. Tiny olives, vinegar-doused mushrooms and a glug of olive oil  on the sourdough are just right.

Caprese salad comes plainly furnished – torn bufala giving green leaves, lettuce and tomato a sweet, nutty anchor.

Sacks of onions sit below stacks of well-used cookbooks, the former appearing on our plate as part of our seasonal baked vegetables, the onions golden and sweet from the oven. The remainder is made up by discs of roast potato, skin on and moreish.

The main event, though, is the pasta. We try four kinds – what a job! The duck and truffle tortelli has bite and give and gusto, and its sage and butter is like a fur stole on a perfect pair of shoulders. Immaculate. Ragu di carne is a mere sideshow to the strozzapreti – twisty "priest stranglers" of pasta that absorb and are absorbed without any airs and graces, and perhaps not quite enough salt. Our tortelli pasta of the day with truffle sauce is rich and strictly not diet-friendly. The fishy pasta, crab and prawn tortelli, a greedy last-minute extra order, is the only off note in the meal – it's just not as interesting or bold as it could be.

Throughout, from chatting with Eoclidi to shuffling out as chairs are being hoisted onto tables, service is laid-back and our selection of waiters charming. Cooking lessons are on offer here and I can think of many worse ways to spend a few hours than dusting, kneading, rolling, stuffing and then eating my way to northern Italy.

We drink BYO – corkage is $8 – and go easy on dessert, sharing the flourless chocolate cake between us. It's put a little to shame by its preceding courses.

Earlier in the night, before I had tried the fruits of Emilia's sleight of hand, it was hard not to miss the two separate sets of couples who hugged and canoodled, limbs pretzeled together, as they paid at the wooden counter, its top lined with jars and bottles to take home. Never mind tips – that's a sure sign of a happily spent meal and warmly satisfied customer if ever there was one.