There’s mythological Italy – a land of lovers in starry piazzas and pastel-hued towns dripping into the Med like gelato on a summer’s day. And then there’s Italy in real time – traffic jams, big hair and brash beach clubs where the Euro house music pumps a little too loud. Uccello at The Ivy is the tale of these two cities.

Antipasti make for a strong first half. Piedmontese veal tartare with anchovies, witlof and charred bread is a generous portion – perhaps too big – the lean richness of the raw veal countered by flecks of raw garlic, which make up for a lack of black pepper, the hallmark spice of dishes from the northern Italian region. Cuttlefish, so thinly sliced it resembles slivers of red onion, is perfectly tender, atop a bed of richly buttered and pleasingly textured white polenta. It’s at primi that the game starts to fall apart.

There’s scampi risotto, crab tagliolini and pork ragu paccheri, but the only vegetarian option on the menu from here to dessert is ricotta mezzaluna with pumpkin and sage butter, a comfort-food classic that is tragically underwhelming. The ricotta is strangely chewy and grainy, the burnt butter sauce not quite burnt and diluted with water (from the ricotta perhaps?) and the ‘half moon’ ravioli more like card than silk ‘to the teeth’.

The waiter reveals the pasta is made from the whole wheat grain, which should add bite and a nutty flavour (and which explains the tanned colour of the pasta), but ends up being more of a home goal than a winner.

The Ivy has the once-was appeal of so many seasonal beach towns on the Ligurian Riviera, and the unsettlingly loud house music is discordant with the pleasant surprises on the menu – that cuttlefish and a impressive selection of Italian wines by the glass, thanks to Coravin, from the hard-to-find skin-contact pinot grigio from cult natural wine label Foradori, to a $60 glass of Brunello. Uccello, like its inspiration, is a tale of highs and lows.

Must eat dish: Cuttlefish with soft polenta, broad beans and marjoram