Dad must be smiling big up there in Florence’s side of heaven. (There’s much better food in that part of heaven, I would imagine.) And not just because his son has succeeded in opening his own place, but because of what his young son has already accomplished in his 33 years of life. Iacapo is a savory chef, most recently of the two-star Bread Tribeca, but he was also the pastry chef at Le Cirque 2000. Prior to coming to the States, he was the bread baker and executive pastry chef in Florence at three-star Michelin Enoteca Pinchiorri, a bread baker at three star Michelin Michel Bras in Lagouille, France, and the chocolate chef at Michel Belin, a small chocolate shop in Albi, France, where he collaborated with Fauchon to develop new techniques in chocolate making. See what I mean? Dad must be beaming.

The thing is, not only is he talented and accomplished, but the guy is so sweet and full of life, you just want to hug him on your way home, and wish him well. He is like the chef version of Life is Beautiful star Roberto Benigni. He is miraculously jubilant and effervescent—bubbling over with genuine passion for what he does—bringing joy to his guests from his small kitchen.

Falai, the restaurant he owns with his wife Sofia, is a Cinderella slipper of a restaurant—a petite space with an open kitchen (chefs Matteo and Fabio are up there cooking nightly), a perfume counter-styled bar, and glowing white walls washed with delicate lace and dazzling crystal sugar designs falling unexpectedly from corners of the room, like shooting stars frozen in flight. The concise menu (YAY! This is one you can really wrap your mind around – like Bruni, I am OVER long menus) is Italian, but not of a specific region, more of the heart of the chef—his favorites from his native land.

On my first night at Falai, on a (fun) date, we were charmed by wine director Alberto Taddei, the chef’s best friend from his days in Enotecca Pinchiorri, who served us an amazing bottle of red which my date, a wine guy, was quite happy with, and which I loved as well. But I have no idea what it was because I was too interested in the Chicken Liver ($7) in front of me: a light puff of mousse given some depth and texture from dried dates, and set over a crisp flat of white polenta and topped with chanterelle mushroom for an earthy note. My attention was also stolen by the Gamberoni ($11)—juicy shrimp snuggled into in a pancetta wrapper nestled in a puddle of lush chickpea cream.

We also shared the Gnudi ($14)—plump little pasta-less dumplings fashioned from ricotta cheese and baby spinach topped with Parmesan in butter and sage. But we found them overly salty. On a more recent visit though, they were creamy and mild—even a bit under-seasoned—they could have used a little hit of nutmeg and bigger hit of pepper and maybe a finish of sea salt to wake them up. We also shared a bowl of Pici ($13) with white bean puree, crispy musetto (pig jowls) and rosemary, which was disappointing—the thick spaghetti-like noodles were mushy and the white bean broth too salty. But all was made right when Alberto came round after dinner and poured us a few glasses of dessert wine (the list is fairly extensive) and we left Falai with a fizzy happy buzz.

On my more recent visit, with my all time best date Susie and our friend Adrienne, the restaurant had rid itself of most of its kinks. Alberto served us another spectacular bottle of wine, this time one from Puglia, and again, I have no clue what it was, because I was concentrating on toasting to Susie’s new apartment and to Adrienne’s career change. But I do know it was an amazing bottle of wine (that was finished with alarming speed).

Our celebration of apartments and careers was soon eclipsed by a celebration of the octopus in front of us. Iacapo’s Polipetti ($8)—the most tame and tender grilled octopus in the city—is worthy of a party. It is nicely charred, well seasoned, and served with a shower of the most amazing caramelized black olives—sweet but sly and salty at the same time—a flash of brilliance. The Farro Salad ($8) was also a charmer—firm and nutty grains of farro tossed with shaved artichokes, shards of peppered pecorino cheese in light lemon juice and cumin dressing that allowed the flavors of this dish to soar. I was lovin’ that Farro. My pasta choice that night, the wild boar ragu over broad ribbons of green pea papparadele ($15) was good as well—the boar ragu was heavy with spices from its long slow journey from beast to braised sauce, and the handmade noodles, though again, slightly soft for my taste, had the fresh aroma of young spring peas opening up. Susie had the tuna ($21), which unfortunately was overcooked and dry as toast, but nicely seasoned with salt pork and set up with a great red rice cake, while Adrienne, a shameless carnivore, went for the pork ($17), a nice moist medallion accented with fennel seeds that nudged up against a happy fluff of potato puree.

Desserts at Falai are listed in two categories—classics and non-classics. Under the former, you will find a drunk and delicious baba ($8) set in a pool of rum, and a collection of adorable bite-sized profiteroles ($6) filled with chocolate mousse and drizzled with bitter chocolate sauce. I’d rather have them filled with cold ice cream, because the mousse seemed to make the choux pastry dough wilt and get soft. Under non-classics, the warm polenta cake with green tomato jam and milk froth was pretty much demolished in minutes, and the Panna Cotta ($9) with almond foam, was fantastic and flawless—cool and creamy but still firm, that left me sighing in its wake.

I cannot end my review without talking about the most amazing part of Falai—Iacapo’s magnificent breads. If you have sworn off carbs, do not read any further because you will be transformed into a wild bread-seeking maniac. Okay, for all the rest of you, read on.

Iacapo makes his dough several times a day by hand, following artisan techniques he learned in Italy and France. The dough is baked off several times throughout the meal, so it often arrives fresh from the oven to your bread plate. His soft, gentle-crusted rolls, shaped like country biscuits, are filled with shredded cavo nero—an earthy heirloom Tuscan black cabbage. Don’t think you won’t be stuffing several in your purse for lunch the next day. But the ultimate deliverance to carb heaven comes in the form of mini rounds of golden foccacia flecked with flaky grains of sea salt and glossed with grassy olive oil, that arrive warm and soft from the oven, like puffy little pillows that make you just want to rest your head on them and fall into the sweetest of slumbers. But don’t sleep on them! Instead, eat them. Take a bite of the hot soft dough, and the musty-sweet aroma of fresh yeast reduces you to a docile purring kitten. Honestly, I was in heat. And what’s even better is that he has rented a space across the street where he will open his own bakery and pastry shop in three months! Until then, you will have to go for dinner to get the bread, but that’s not such a bad deal.

Look, I know there were dishes that could have been better at Falai. But, the thing is, the place is all heart. It is an incarnation of one man’s expression of love for a father he never knew. It is a tribute to big, bold, beautiful life. When you sit down in this little restaurant—whether on a date, or on a priceless night celebrating with your dearest friends—you may notice it gets loud, you may feel a draft from the door, you may not find every dish is perfect, but you know what, you will still be happy. There is reckless, unabashed joy in the air at Falai. And if joy doesn’t do it for you, then the bread will.

Falai is located at 68 Clinton Street, near Rivington, 212-253-1960.

Andrea Strong