Execution is everything. Ori Menashe, his wife, Genevieve Gergis, and restaurateur Bill Chait envisioned a warehouse east of downtown as a testa-serving, guanciale-curing, pasta-extruding temple of authenticity, and darned if they didn’t achieve it. Menashe lights up beef heart tartare with champagne vinegar and boosts grilled orata with an anchovy and lemon paste. Gergis’s panna cotta with persimmon wedges ends a meal—whether it’s lardo-draped pizza or brothy cassoeula—on an exquisitely soft note. Italian peasant food hasn’t been this romantic since the last late-night showing of Padre Padrone at the old New Beverly Cinema years ago.