EVOO captures the grace of Italian cooking that most restaurants in Dilli miss

Oct 30, 2026

The beauty of an Italian dinner is in its simplicity. Most dishes require a small shopping list and a mastery of core techniques. Less is more. There are no complex rhythms, no dozens of ingredients, and no hyper-technical skills — quite the contrast to many Indian cuisines. Source fresh vegetables and borrow an Italian nonna’s cookbook, and even an amateur chef who is well-versed in the fundamentals will be halfway to opening a successful restaurant of their own.

Most Italian restaurants in India miss this mark. In an unnecessary attempt to adapt their dishes to an Indian palate, they complicate their fare to a point beyond saving. The piquancy of a rich arrabbiata gets diluted with dull processed milk and heavy cream. Pastas are often cooked to a point far beyond al dente. An industrial quantity of pepper flakes, chilli powder, garam masala and other spices gets dumped all over the minimalist philosophies of Italian cooking.

I am not attempting to wage war on culinary experiments. I am one of the biggest defenders of well-done fusion food, and detest the pedestalisation of “authenticity” in culinary conversations. There is nothing wrong in trying to Indianise a cuisine, as is proven by the humble gobhi manchurian, but not all attempts at such localisations have been successful so far. Perhaps it is the inherent philosophical mismatch between the two cuisines, but barring Jassuben Shah’s pijja in Amdavad, I am yet to encounter a version of Indianised Italian food that has reconciled this difference.

EVOO in Malviya Nagar has been getting the formula right since 2017. It is part of a wave of restaurants that have popped up across the country for the grandchildren of globalisation — the progeny of the first beneficiaries of the early 90s economic reforms. We harbour the aspirations of the generation before us, but grew up with much more exposure to cultures from across the world. 15 years ago, my parents had to quench their pizza cravings by ordering from the same four places serving gooey melted cheese on top of vapid, crusty cardboard. While I’ve had my fair share of U.S. Pizza and Real Paprika in my adolescence, such fare is widely recognised as substandard slop. Having grown up during the Indian internet boom of the 2010s, with exposure to global food writing and travel vlogs, I demand more, and so do many like me.

EVOO’s Gouda Margherita Pizza is elegantly uncomplicated. Their marinara sauce is the perfect base for the dish. Fresh, clean, and bright. Not too acidic, and not too sweet. The wood-fired Neapolitan crust is baked all the way through, and strikes a balance between the floppiness expected of it and the sturdiness that ensures it retains its structural integrity. The Gouda was the highlight of the dish for me. The mild sourness contrasts well with the other ingredients (they have a variant with mozzarella, but I was feeling experimental that day). No more than two small basil leaves on top of each slice, and that’s all you need for a banger pizza. Their Pepperoni (pictured above) is delectable as well, despite it featuring a few too many toppings for my liking.

Their pastas are a fresh reminder of a mastery of the very basics of Italian cooking. To start off, the Cacio e Pepe has a sharp, rich, cheesy taste to it. It is clear to me that they have deep respect for the traditional (non-)secrets of emulsification, rather than relying on the addition of heavy, sterile, dense cream. The kick from a sprinkle of black pepper rounds off the sauce perfectly. There’s hardly a better vessel to absorb it than the fresh, thick, firm handmade pici it is served with.

The gnocchi in their Gnocchi e Burrata is light and tender like a pillow, carrying hints of the velvety richness of the humble potato within it. This subtlety allows it to absorb the strikingly tangy pomodoro, which is cut by the creamy burrata. This heartwarming dish is as comforting as the loving grace of the Italian nonna I never had.

If you’ve mastered the basics, you get the licence to play around with complications, and EVOO knows this. The Caramelle Ravioli — candy-shaped pasta filled with four cheeses, and served in a burnt butter and rosemary sauce — was one of the most whimsical things I’ve tasted in the past few years. The cheese was mild and complemented the softly flavoured nutmeg and rosemary sauce. The choice of pasta was a disservice to the craft that went into it. A bit too thick, and the edges were more al chiodo than al dente. This would’ve been more suited to a richer, thicker sauce, such as an arrabiatta or a bolognese (for what it’s worth, they do serve this dish with a bolognese as well). The fragile delicacy of the rosemary sauce warranted a pasta more muted, something more subdued.

Not everything is a full bed of roses. Their Lasagne Bolognese falls into a familiar trap — the tomatoes are too tangy, and do not mix well with the lamb. It feels like an assortment of parts rather than a whole. I suspect this is a result of the sauce not being cooked for long enough, which is a rookie mistake. There is also too little cheese in proportion to the sauce or the pasta, which dampens the experience.

This was the second tiramisu experience of my life, and I was blown away. Fluffier than a cloud, lighter than a feather. The coffee did not overpower it, allowing the texture to rightfully steal the show. If you wanted a stronger bite, you could always take more of the coffee powder sprinkled on top. Heterogeneity remains unrivalled as a quality to aspire to. I’ve been wanting to explore more of this Italian delicacy for a while now, and EVOO has inspired me to take that vague commitment more seriously.