KUALA LUMPUR, July 3 — Italian restaurants, by virtue of the cuisine’s unceasing universal appeal, are a dime a dozen in Kuala Lumpur. But the actual variety of dishes on offer remains limited to the specific brand of Italian cooking that’s proved popular with Malaysians: safe, uninspired pasta and pizza. 

And although we have finally started coming around to Neapolitan pizza in the last few years, our reluctance as diners to expand our palates beyond what our TikTok and Instagram algorithms tell us means most restaurants have to stick to what is tried and tested. 

So how does one stand out from the rest?

Some try in ways that don’t quite work. They might chase trends and shoehorn pistachios into a dish — yes, it’s a current trend, slathered on anything from nasi lemak to ayam gepuk. Although, in fairness, it would actually be pretty suitable for an Italian restaurant. 

Others rely on striking interior design, and when all else fails, plaster their Italian chef/owner all over their marketing. 

To many of us Malaysians, nationality trumps actual cooking experience — and we love taking the Eurocentric approach. 

We’ll flatter a European face the way a starved-for-attention child performs for a negligent parent, hoping this time it’ll be enough.

Truth be told, at first glance, I thought Bacio Italian Kitchen in Mont Kiara was exactly this type of restaurant. 

It is set in the half-completed B.LOT development, its white, curved walls and windows evocative of the famous trulli from the southern Italian region of Puglia. 

It’s the newest addition to the Portofino group, which began as a single restaurant in Lucky Garden, Bangsar in 2014 and has since grown to include two concepts in Bangsar South, and, as of September 2025, Bacio. 

The menu did little to dispel my initial scepticism; aside from a few encouraging signs like vitello tonnato and an interesting-sounding spin on spaghetti aglio e olio, the rest of the pages were filled with the usual suspects: burrata, steak, tiramisu. 

I prepared myself mentally for a competent, if slightly pedestrian, meal. 

Then the fritto di mare (RM52) arrived, and it was everything you’d want it to be: light, crispy and exceptionally well-seasoned, with baby shrimp that were especially sweet. 

It’s served on a comically large plate that makes the portion look miniscule, but it’s a promising start. 

Vitello tonnato (RM48), a dish of Piedmontese origin, is one I think should be on far more menus than it is here. This cold antipasto of thinly-sliced roasted veal covered in a creamy tuna-flavoured sauce is ideal for our tropical climate; in Piedmont, it’s especially common in summer. 

The soft, almost milky flavour of the veal adds to the lightness of the dish, a quality often lost when pork is used in place of the pricier meat. 

Bacio, being a pork-free restaurant, has opted for the more traditional veal anyway.

The most compelling dish of the night was, ironically, a twist on one of the most replicated pasta dishes of all time: spaghetti aglio e olio. 

Rather than a poorly integrated pile of overcooked noodles swimming in oil, Bacio’s spaghetti alla chitarra aglio olio e peperoncino (RM44) is true to technique yet creative. 

Cooked to a perfect al dente, the pasta has a slightly rougher texture from the chitarra method — rolled dough pressed through a wooden tool strung with metal wires, yielding a firmer bite — which allows the emulsification of oil and pasta water to cling to it better. 

This is taken one step further by the incorporation of cheese. Cheese isn’t typically added to this preparation, but it is here in the form of a fondue made from 24-month-aged Parmigiano Reggiano, which coats the noodles better than grated cheese ever could. 

To ensure it isn’t an overly indulgent affair, cili padi and habaneros are used as the peperoncino for added kick. It is, without question, the highlight of the night.

The secondi should have gone by without incident, except for one that ended up dominating my experience on the night. It wasn’t the cotoletta di pollo (RM58) that stuck with me, though it was well-seasoned, expertly fried and overwhelmingly juicy — like, squirting-in-my-mouth level of juicy. I strongly believe the chicken is brined. 

Rather, it was the filetto di dentice (RM72), a charcoal-grilled red snapper fillet, which arrived seemingly without any salt — anywhere at all. 

I wasn’t sure if my palate had lost it at first. The fish was perfectly cooked: moist flesh, immaculate skin, and yet, a taste of distinctly… nothing. 

Well, not nothing. Bland, completely tasteless, like someone hadn’t just forgotten to put salt, but actively prevented the fish from even glancing at a tub of salt. 

A taste of the lemon sauce proved my palate was still working (sour!), so I asked for salt, but it wasn’t enough.

I have never sent a dish back to the kitchen while reviewing a restaurant before, but two things convinced me to do so this time. First, every dish prior to this had been impeccably seasoned, which told me this wasn’t a case of underseasoning by design — in the heat of a fully seated service, some poor commis had probably genuinely forgotten the salt. 

Second, mistakes happen all the time. People aren’t robots, and they should be given the opportunity to fix them, so I sent it back rather than stay silent and write a less-than-glowing review.

The waiter was sympathetic to our plight, immediately offered to replace it, and whisked it away, returning with a new plate a short while later. 

The difference was night and day. In fact, the salt had improved the texture of the flesh, and even brought out a slight sweetness in the snapper. 

The chef came to check on things, which wasn’t necessary at all, but was appreciated nonetheless. 

It was a remarkable display of the fundamental tenets of hospitality — I may have sent a dish back, but as a customer, I now walk away with a glowing account of the restaurant and the team.

This shouldn’t even bear mentioning, but the moral of the story here isn’t to send back any and all dishes that aren’t to your liking. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with it.

After that, I found a second stomach for dessert, which the pannacotta (RM26) more than satisfied. 

Silky, rich and creamy, it arrived with a classic strawberry sauce and shards of meringue for crunch — a clean, bright note to close out a meal that had, by then, earned its indulgence.

A meal at Bacio probably isn’t going to evoke Botticelli or The Divine Comedy, but if you’re looking for a pretty place to woo a pretty date over plates of pasta, this is it. 

The prices run about what’s expected in Mont Kiara, and you might have to deal with every other table in the restaurant also being there on a date that night, but the excellent service can go some way in making it hurt a little less. 

If you’re lucky enough, there might be un bacione (a kiss) at the end of the night.

Bacio Italian Kitchen

B.LOT Mont Kiara, 

Block B, Kiosk 5, 

Lot 1908, Jalan Kiara 5, 

Mont Kiara, Kuala Lumpur.

Open daily, 11am-3.30pm, 5.30-11pm

Tel: 010-399 7008

https://www.portofino.my/bacio

Instagram: @bacio.my

* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.

* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.

* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and occasionally self-deprecating humour.