An Amalfi Afternoon in Versova

There’s something immediately disarming about walking out of the Versova metro station and into a space that feels like it belongs to a different rhythm altogether. One minute you’re negotiating Mumbai’s afternoon bustle; the next, you’re settling into Lygon St., a new Italian restaurant named after Melbourne, Australia’s famously food-obsessed Lygon Street that houses the city’s “Little Italy” enclave. It’s a clever name, but more importantly, it’s a promise of everyday Italian pleasures, and of meals meant to linger way into the evening.

I was invited here for lunch recently, on one of those bright afternoons that already feel halfway to a holiday. The restaurant sits conveniently right next to the metro exit, yet manages to feel tucked away from the city’s noise. With just 38 seats split between an intimate indoor area and a breezy, road-facing alfresco section, it is designed as a neighbourhood wine bar rather than a flashy restaurant, a deliberate choice by chef-founder Sneha Upadhya. Her years living and cooking in Melbourne have shaped this place as a personal, lived-in interpretation of Italian dining culture.

‘Wine’ing Ways at Lygon St.!
The space sets the tone. I noticed immediately the absence of a traditional bar counter. Instead, a wall stacked with wine bottles anchors the room, more working cellar than showpiece. Wine here is meant to be chosen through conversation with a sommelier guiding you at the table. It’s a quiet, thoughtful detail that speaks volumes about the restaurant’s philosophy: no theatre, no pressure, just ease.

We began gently, as all good Italian lunches should. The mini cheese platter arrived first, and while the flavours were spot on—mature cheddar, smoked provolone and a goat’s milk feta, joined by olives, nuts and crackers—it truly lived up to the word ‘mini’. Delicious, yes, but modest to the point of being fleeting. Still, it did its job, teasing the palate rather than overwhelming it.

Drinks, thankfully, were more generous. A peach bellini was crisp with the fizzy prosecco and cheerful with the sweetness of the fruit juice, the sort of drink that instantly conjures images of sunlit terraces. Alongside it, an elderflower, cucumber and mint mocktail was refreshing without being saccharine, the kind of thoughtful non-alcoholic option that never feels like an afterthought.

Breaking Bread
The bread basket was where the table really began to relax. Warm focaccia and ciabatta, made at the restaurant’s central kitchen, were served with honey, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and a hit of hot sauce. It’s the sort of spread that encourages you to tear, dip and talk all at once, the bread disappearing faster than you expect.

For antipasti, we chose a single dish: the gamberi piccanti. Plump, translucent prawns bathed in warm chilli butter, lifted by garlic and lemon zest, arrived sizzling and fragrant. It was straightforward, honest cooking, the freshness of the seafood doing most of the work, with the seasoning playing a confident supporting role.

Pasta followed, and this is where Lygon St. really shows its hand. The linguine carbonara was reassuringly uncomplicated and cooked al dente, coated in a glossy, golden egg yolk emulsion with pecorino romano. A generous scattering of bacon lardons added depth and salt. There was no attempt to reinvent anything here, just a quiet confidence that comes from getting the basics right.

The gnocchi al rosso was a contrast in texture and mood. Pillow-y, house-made gnocchi sat in a tangy tomato sauce with garlic and basil, finished with whipped ricotta. While the gnocchi itself was excellent, I did feel the sauce slightly outweighed the pasta, tipping the balance just a little. Still, it was comforting in the way only tomato-based Italian dishes can be.

Pizzas and Desserts That Encourage You to Linger
Then came the pizza, and with it, the clear highlight of the afternoon. The bella pepperoni was, quite simply, one of the best pizzas I’ve eaten in a long time. The crust struck that elusive balance between crisp and yielding, the sauce and cheese were in perfect proportion, and the pepperoni was of superb quality. It’s the sort of pizza that makes conversation pause, if only briefly.

Dessert felt like a gentle landing rather than a finale. A panna cotta arrived delicately wobbly, topped with berry compote, light and clean on the palate. Alongside it, a generous serving of tiramisu was rich, comforting and unapologetically classic, the kind that would earn quiet approval from a true-blue Italian Nonna!

As we lingered over this coffee-saturated wonder, it struck me that Lygon St. isn’t trying to shout about Italy. Instead, it channels the spirit of long, sunny lunches on the Amalfi Coast, filtered through Melbourne’s neighbourhood wine bars and translated for Andheri West. There’s charm here, and restraint, and a sense that this is a place built for return visits. In a city that often favours spectacle, Lygon St. chooses something rarer: the pleasure of simply being at the table.