Giulia

Pasta at the center of the station

The pasta work sets the rhythm at Giulia in Shepherd's Bush, London, where Endris Kerbizi is head chef and co-owner and works the kitchen largely on his own with a porter. His cooking is tied to repetition rather than display: dough handled until it gives the right resistance, sauces kept clear enough for the ingredient to stay legible, hospitality treated as part of the same discipline as the pass. Giulia Quaglia, his partner, gives the restaurant its name and holds the front of house, often in her native Italian. At Giulia, that arrangement sits inside a small neighbourhood trattoria on Askew Road, where handmade pasta, bread, sauces and desserts carry the house more than any single flourish.

The place opened in late 2022 on the former Adam's Café site, and the work still reads as local in scale: short menu, close room, a kitchen built around the long way. The register is Italian, seasonal and compact, with produce sourced mainly from Italy. The menu gives pasta its own course, then lets fish, meat, bread and sweets take their turns without crowding the table.

A short menu with bench discipline

Giulia works à la carte, with a brief selection by course and a separate primi section for pasta. The menu changes monthly, which matters less as a calendar note than as a method: the kitchen can keep the list tight, bring in produce for its moment, and let the plate stay uncluttered. Pasta is made by hand. Bread is made in house. Sauces and desserts stay within the same homemade program, from focaccia and grissini to tiramisu, lemon tart, gelati and sorbets.

The dish that stays on the menu is seared octopus with cauliflower, potato purée and 'nduja sauce. Around it, the cooking moves through Italian forms with a London neighbourhood tempo: spaghetti alle vongole with parsley emulsion, bucatini all'amatriciana with guanciale and pecorino from Lazio, aubergine ravioli with baked ricotta, roast lamb rack with braised shoulder, ossobuco alla milanese with saffron risotto, and Amarone-braised short rib on creamy mash. The wine program stays Italian and curated rather than encyclopaedic, with cocktails alongside it. The point is not breadth. It is fit.

The room on Askew Road

The room is small enough for the counter, the pass and the tables to feel related. Cream and sage green walls soften the edges; ivy runs across the ceiling; woven pendant lights keep the pace low. It is the sort of room where a short menu makes sense, because the kitchen does not have to perform abundance to hold attention. Conversation stays near the table. Plates arrive without theatre.

That restraint gives the cooking room to register. Focaccia comes first as a signal of the bench, not a filler. Pasta follows with the pressure of fresh dough behind it. Mains lean on braising, searing and clean garnish rather than height. Desserts keep the same domestic grammar, finished with enough care to belong to the meal rather than trail after it. Michelin recognises the house for good cooking with an honest feel, and the Good Food Guide has put it among the best local restaurants in the country. At Giulia, the close is not a gesture toward spectacle; it ends, quietly, with tiramisu.