My chic Danish friend and I walked into Tavernetta on a brisk afternoon a few months ago, she in fabulous boots that look like they’re covered in tiny disco-ball mirrors, me in salaryman Rockports. We passed the fireplace lounge that overlooks the tracks at Union Station and took a sharp left around the massive open kitchen, where, amid a bustle of cooks, one chef was hand-cutting a four-foot yolk-yellow banner of pasta.

Our host led us into the first of two compact, but not cramped, dining rooms; pale stone walls, fabric banquettes, and rich wood accents make the space feel as if it were a sanctuary. My friend looked around and said, “Good hygge.” For the next 100 minutes, we had a properly urbane lunch whose timbre, in food and service, echoed one you might find in Italy’s Milan or Bologna.