Piatti

Piatti sits a block from the surf, a salt-scented trattoria that refuses to be flashy. The courtyard fills at sunset with couples and families who order slowly and talk loudly. Squash ravioli arrives pillow-soft, glazed in a walnut cream sauce that tastes like comfort and small decadence at once. The stone-hearth pizzas have blistered char and chew, the lasagna is unapologetically rich, and the house bread comes warm enough to demand attention. Servers move with a practiced ease, not showy but never absent. On windy nights you hear the ocean under the murmur of conversation; on calm evenings the patio is all light and citrus. It costs more than the hole-in-the-wall pasta places, and it delivers the kind of comforting precision you notice in tiny details. Ask for the courtyard table at sunset and do not skip the bread with the oil.