First thought upon walking into Portobello Garden Arcade: "are we really going to fit in here?". Before you visit, beware: the place is tiny, and fills up pretty quickly. If you're waiting for a table, you're condemned to stand outside; it might not be exactly what you'd hope for, unless it's the middle of summer. The good news is you might not have to wait that long: this is a restaurant that would attract far larger crowds and queues if it was any bigger, or any easier to spot from the main road. Right now, it might well be one of Portobello Road's best kept secrets; so well kept, I've only discovered it recently, despite having lived in the area for three years.

I visited the week before Christmas, and found the place decorated with panettone and pandoro boxes everywhere. They were even hanging from the ceiling. "Woah", said the three colleagues I was with, "that's so pretty". "Woah", said I, "Are those for sale?". I averted my eyes before the cake cravings kicked in, but resisting temptation is not an option in there: it wasn't long before I spotted the counter at the bottom of the room, where most ingredients for cold dishes are on display, and staff members assemble generous portions of salads and sandwiches. If you're not hungry by the time you get in, you will be by the time you order.

Encouraged by what I'd just seen, I considered getting the mozzarella, prosciutto, rocket and carasau bread plate (simple but fulfilling, a reliable favourite of mine), or a ham, mozzarella and aubergine sandwich made with pizza bread (boy did that sound promising). It being a freezing cold Friday however, I went for a warm, hearty main: wild boar ravioli, from the daily specials menu.

The ravioli came with plenty of rich, smooth tomato sauce. You can hardly go wrong with slathering pasta with sauce, but this was the overpowering type. I could barely taste the meat, which felt disappointing, as the filling is the best part of a ravioli recipe to me. I loved the smoked ricotta topping, though: I don't see that often enough in London. I'd grate smoked ricotta on all my pasta dishes, if I could find a single store that sells it. I should have asked where they get it from, damn it.

One of my colleagues ordered potato gnocchi with beef ragù. He was impressed with the gnocchi; not so much with the seasoning, which he claimed was missing a kick. Even from the outside, it looked overly rich in tomato passata and poor in beef. The meat was chopped in large chunks, and, I'm told, a bit too fatty for a sauce ingredient.

Another colleague ordered octopus salad, and was very happy with it. She can't eat gluten, so she passed the side bread on to us. We were quick to snatch it, and my enthusiasm about warm bread was quick to fade, as I realised it was garlic bread. I don't know who spread the word that garlic bread being distinctively Italian, but this needs to stop right now. Garlic bread is not a thing; plain bread, which we may dip in olive oil (that's on the menu too, by the way), serve with some kind of spread, ot just eat on its own, is. We do rub garlic on bread, sometimes - but that's to make bruschetta, which is a completely different thing. No discerning Italian I know likes garlic bread. Some don't even know it exists, because bless them, they've never eaten the UK's rendition of Italian food.

In sum: Portobello Garden Arcade makes more convincing food than the average budget-friendly Italian restaurant in London, but their dishes could be much closer to what you'd actually eat in Italy. I could be disappointed; I choose not to be. I went in for a decent, warm, hearty meal, and got exactly that - as well as a mood boost, thanks to the restaurant's warm, lively atmosphere. I wouldn't mind returning, and trying a different dish.