A restaurant with only a small, temporary sign apparently proclaims confidence, style and a certain je ne sais quoi that only the hippest of hip can understand — at least in New York City it might. In Toronto, though, not so much. For us Canucks making a place difficult to find just tests our patience. And Buca (pronounced “boo-hah” if you’re Tuscan) takes the too-cool-to-care concept to new heights by not only forgoing the signage, but by hiding down an alley, around a corner and down some stairs. Seriously, if you don’t hire a Sherpa to get you there, ensure you have a number handy for directions.

Given that this chic but simple and rustic Italian food is by the guys behind Brassaii, Brant House and Jacob’s, it’s little surprise that Buca’s basement is booming only weeks after opening. And when its recipe for success also includes chef Rob Gentile, who honed his skills under Mark McEwan (North 44, Bymark, One), one could quickly conclude that finally finding the destination was well worth the hunt.

Or was it? The room is as design-heavy as most in the area. Trendy, yes, but with a relaxed elegance where the accent is on comfort, not bling. But service is overwrought at times: our server asks if we would like another beer just after another waiter finished pouring wine; and collecting plates while you’re still chewing your last bite can be a bit annoying. Even the food, though living up to its billing as authentic Italian comfort food, is, at times, equally confusing.

Delicate sheaves of lamb carpaccio ($15), bathed in fowl egg yolk, come topped with freshly foraged dandelion and a hugely generous portion of shaved black truffle. Yet the addition of heavily roasted pumpkin seeds overwhelms the delicate flavour balance.

Perfectly cooked candy-wrapper shaped agnolotti parcels ($16) come in a beautifully buttery reduced broth, yet the pasta are too small for any taste to ooze out of their mortadella- and veal-stuffed middles. Fried olives stuffed with sausage ($5) are just plain silly, as a barely there batter adds gratuitous greasiness to one of nature’s most perfect oils. The kind of kitchen talent that Buca boasts could be better utilized.

The arrosticini ($5-$9), tiny lamb cubes on a stick with a whack of lemon and pepper, are divine even if somewhat fatty. But a bowlful of bread nuggets, with shiny oily crusts and soft, doughy centres, doused in garlic, olive oil and salt, must have been made by God — it seems even more heavenly when matched with a superb salumi platter. Sourced from as far away as Italy, and as close to home as Buca’s own curing room, the portions of these treats, including house-cured sopressata and Gentile’s bang-on Berkshire pork fennel sausage, are more than generous at $5 a pop (3 for $15/5 for $25). And the plumpest pair of salty, citrus-grilled quail ($28) with sweet cippolini onions is pure unadulterated smokehouse heaven.

Thin-crust pizzas ($15 to $18) are also praiseworthy, with wickedly decadent lobster mushrooms over gorgonzola-laced mascarpone. But the real gimmick is scissors to cut the large rectangle into pieces — too bad they’re dollar-store quality. And too bad for a ricotta tart dessert ($10) that’d best be served as a savoury. Thankfully, house-made gelato (3 for $10), including butternut squash, is fabulous.

Partners Gus Giazitzidis and Peter Tsebelis are veterans on the dining-out circuit. They’ve built a small empire of foodie establishments with that have outlasted many who’ve come before and after. For this reason we are confident that Buca, in spite of its flaws early on, will be a long-time player on King West’s corridor of cool.