Central’s new Italian address, Il Presidente turns aperitivo hour into theatre, plates unapologetic classics with real portions, and proves that nostalgia, done properly, can taste devastatingly good.
You climb before you dine, and it’s probably for the best. Duddell Street’s old granite steps do the work of a good overture, and at the top of them sits a sunset-orange façade that gives little away amidst the calm, moneyed chaos of Central. Push through into Il Presidente’s captivating interiors and you’ll immediately discover a space where Dix Design has created something that shouldn’t work on paper — rosewood wainscoting, Belgian velvet, British leather as thick as an Ulsterman’s accent, deep-pile carpet, mirrored ceilings — and yet does, spectacularly.
Up the Granite Steps and Into 1979
With just 70 seats, Duddell Street’s new posterboy feels intimate rather than cramped, which is its own small miracle in a city where “intimate” usually means your neighbour’s fork flickering through your peripheral vision like a dodgy fluro bulb. The new culinary haven is less a moodboard for old money, like so many of the city’s esteemed institutions, and more the fever dream of a well-connected uncle who spent the 1970s doing deals in Rome and never quite came home. Not only is it plush, but it’s refreshingly unfussy about being plush, and it was, on an entirely unglamorous Wednesday night, absolutely rammed, so book ahead — like getting your kid accepted to a liberal UN-sponsored Mid-Levels international kindergarden early.
Il Presidente is the work of the team behind Wan Chai’s Trattoria Felino, which is worth knowing, because Felino has spent three years quietly out-lasting the usual Hong Kong F&B mortality rate, and its new sibling has inherited both the kitchen’s confidence and, mercifully, some of its most iconic presentations, including its hugely popular signature egg dish, which now comes dressed with truffle (because subtlety was never really the brief here).
Aperitivo With Educazione
The bar, which should be your first stop, gets equal billing with the dining room, something that’s rarer than it should be. This snug, L-shaped respite, built for 10-14 fortunate souls, is the domain of Simone Ciambrone, whose CV reads like a highlight reel of the world’s great hotel bars, from The Ritz London and Donovan’s Bar at Brown’s to The Dorchester and most recently the Bvlgari Ginza Bar in Tokyo. His philosophy, which he calls miscelazione educata (“educated mixing”), is really just good manners applied to a cocktail shaker and is centred on pushing flavours without showboating the technique.
The 12-cocktail-strong opening list plays it exactly that way. The Whisky e Sole (above), a rye-and-Fernet riff on the old fashioned softened with Nardini almond liqueur, has the quiet confidence to be sipped rather than photographed, while the Piazza Duomo dresses up an Aperol Spritz with peach and raspberry vinegar, becoming the more seductive of the two sisters in all the ways that count.
I opted to venture ever-so-slightly off-menu and ended up with a Cuccorucco (above), a tequila-based libation that was pleasingly salty, and tropical enough to flatter the food to come rather than fight it. If you’re treating your body like a temple(as my wife was), the peach and mandarin-laced mocktail list is no mere consolation prize, and the Old World-heavy wine list (which we avoided only because it was a school night) is as worthy a reason to return as anything else you’ll encounter.
The Stuzzichini and Starters: Warm-Up Acts Worth the Applause
Like many likley lads, I treat the bread course as a first foray rather than a distraction. Fortunately, the kitchen team didn’t disappoint. A sundried tomato slice with the density and snap of a Roman pizza might be a strange thing to rave about in a review and yet, here we are. This was followed by salted and smoked Cantabrian anchovies, which tantilised our palates, teasing at what was to come, and that coveted Egg Tartufato, topped with a potato-and-truffle foam and served inside its own eggshell in the kind of small, theatrical dish that makes a table go quiet, if to only to reflect on memorable culinary moments past.
The Seafood Arancini deserves to become the thing people order at volume before they even sit down, with a crunchy-crisp exterior, a sinful cheese pull, and an almond pesto doing more heavy lifting than pesto usually gets credit for, while the Wagyu Beef Carpaccio (above), finished tableside with balsamic aged older than most second wives, is lovingly layered with Parmesan and is the sort of morsel you’ll defend from your dining companions with a ritualistic fork.
The Hamachi Crudo (above), paired with smoked aubergine and a bright salsa vergine, is genuinely lovely — just be strategic about how much of it you eat, because the portions here are more generous than a pre-rev AI start up, and there’s a great deal of dinner still to come.
Pasta and Secondi: This Is Where the Restaurant Wins the Argument
Any Italian kitchen lives or dies by its pasta course, and this is where “new classic” — Executive Chef Marcello Scognamiglio‘s philosophy of elevating rather than reinventing the familiar — earns its keep. The Homemade Agnolotti All’Ossobuco, filled with an oozing Parmesan fondue, is an umami bomb that’s rich enough that you’ll be grateful for whatever bright, acidic vino you ordered alongside it to reset the palate between mouthfuls. Meanwhile, the giant Cannellone (above), stuffed with ricotta and spinach, is designed to sate the appetites of the masses, so order it to share, and see your generousity through.
The mains don’t let up. The Costoletta Alla Valdostana (above) — a breaded veal chop stuffed with fontina and smoked ham — arrives at a portion size that borders on architectural, the breading somehow holding its structural integrity against everything trying to escape from inside.
The tableside-carved Porchetta is the other headline act: with the skin shattering on contact, the meat beneath is improbably supple and balanced by a sweet apple purée that keeps the whole thing from tipping you into Dante’s third circle. Bring people you like sharing with, or don’t, and simply let them watch you finish it alone.
Dolci: The Gelato Show Is Not a Gimmick
The Gelato al Tavolo — fresh gelato churned tableside — is exactly the kind of Old School theatre this restaurant does best, a bit of spectacle in service of a genuinely excellent product. Ask for the olive oil and lemon peel toppings, which offer a small, savoury-adjacent twist that elevates the whole desert into euphoric glory. The grandmother classics rounded out our sinful feast — tiramisu, panna cotta, and a chocolate cake dense enough to be studied by NASA — each confidantly satisfying without needing to compete for attention.
The Verdict
During my meal I concluded (as I am sure many will) that Il Presidente is what Carbone wishes it was — the same swagger, the same theatre, the same “we know exactly what we’re doing and we’re not going to be precious about it” energy, but with food that actually competes with the stellar ambiance. In fact, it sits comfortably alongside Otto e Mezzo (which was, until Wednesday around 8 pm, my Italian go-to) on pure cooking quality, which I know is a significant claim for a restaurant that’s been open five minutes, and given how different their registers are. Even better, Il Presidente does all of this at prices that make sense for what’s on the plate, in a location where that is very rarely a given.
Beyond the fare, the staff were sharp, intelligently witty, warmly funny, and clearly enjoying themselves, delivering the sort of front-of-house energy that sets a table’s mood before the first course even arrives. Il Presidente is loud, it’s generous, and it’s unmistakably concieved for grown-ups enjoying a well-deserved night out, sadly another rarity in a city dining scene that takes itself all together too seriously.
Come to my new date-night favourite for dinner, or for lunch (coming soon), and come hungry, but whatever you do, book ahead, as this is not a restaurant that’s going to be short of admirers, even mid-week.
