It’s small, in fact, some richer readers probably have shoe cupboards that are bigger. But there lies the charm. Buzzing with warmth, here an interior composed of pre-war floor tiles, exposed brickwork, and black and white images of Italian icons sets a casually good mood that’s sustained by the owners. They’re knowledgeable, as well. If Prosciutteria feels good, then it tastes even better. Based around cold cuts, find heavy wooden boards loaded with imported delicacies from small producers that the couple have befriended: Ubriaco cheese bathed in Prosecco; pork belly fat dry-cured for six months; salami from Milan and Naples; five-year-old Veneto cheese washed in beer; and the kind of sundried tomatoes you feared you’d never find in Poland. There’s more, of course, but it all becomes one in this orgy of pleasure.

Prosciutteria
ul. Solec 85