Toscana’s counsel, Andrew Kline, stated that the speakers will soon be removed entirely, and his clients had already agreed to narrow their request by closing up shop at 11 p.m. on weekdays. Commissioner Tony Richardson said that he had personally “knocked on every door” within earshot of Toscana, and there was universal consensus that the restaurant was indeed a good neighbor. The ANC voted to negotiate a new voluntary agreement with the restaurant’s ownership that would allow for a conditional extension of the hours.

The one abstaining vote came from Commissioner Ryan Velasco, who argued that the ability to stay open until midnight was not an unreasonable expectation on the part of businesses in a large metropolitan area, such as Washington.

“I think we often forget that we don’t only represent the residents, but also the business owners,” he said. “They’re in our community … and they’re taking a retail space that’s now of a contributing retail use.”

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Catalani’s crusty loaves are so flavorful they practically steal the show from the top-billed ingredients, particularly the Italiano’s spicy fennel pork sausage, which is a fine link, save for the casings that were (in my case) crisped into a rubbery mass better suited for teething infants. Once, the ciabatta was even MIA on my Napolitano meatball sandwich, replaced with an inferior sub roll. It didn’t distract a lick from those rich, melt-in-your mouth meatballs, braised in Catalani’s tomato sauce and shot through with fresh parsley, oregano, and roasted garlic puree. It’s the current gold standard for meatball sandwiches.

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Baked that morning, its rosemary-yeasty scent still strong by evening, the bread is one of many from-scratch foods that have made Daniele Catalani’s Italian takeout a go-to in the near-Northeast neighborhood.

Catalani opened the eatery a year ago in a converted townhouse just east of Union Station. His setup is unconventional: You enter via the kitchen, place your order with whoever is standing by (often, it’s a cook making eye contact), then watch the meal come together.

About a dozen seats fill the second floor, but most orders get rushed out the door (in well-insulated plastic carryalls). Which is just how Catalani planned it: “At lunchtime the place is more like a deli. I wanted to drive that concept through to dinner. I wanted people who don’t have time to sit down to have an option.”

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Daniele Catalini, who once wielded his whisk at the late Galileo, Toscana settled into the space vacated by Banducci, across the street from Ebenenzer’s Coffeehouse. Blue umbrellas mark the café’s outdoor patio, where picnic tables seat about three dozen. Above, the red-white-and-green Italian flag flaps in the breeze alongside Old Glory.

Open for dinner Monday through Saturday, for now, Toscana’s lunch is carryout only, which is fine with harried workers from the nearby Supreme Court, Senate office buildings and the SEC. Later on, Catalani might add sit-down lunch and weekend service.

“We are so happy to come to your neighborhood,” said Catalani, who lives in Adams Morgan with his wife Vicki and 3-month old daughter Anna Bella. “You have been most welcoming, and we are glad to be able to come here and provide a service.”

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Not only have offerings improved dramatically on H Street Northeast and Eighth Street Southeast, but tucked away in a corner row house not far from Union Station is also a new Italian restaurant – Toscana Cafe – that blows any competition, particularly within its own moderately priced category, out of the water (and gives its more upscale counterparts a run for their money).

Young chef and owner Daniele Catalani, a former Roberto Donna protege and originally from the medieval Tuscan town of Pistoia near Florence, has succeeded in creating a menu that is so compelling that within the first month of opening his restaurant, he needs to expand to accommodate Italophiles and foodies from near and far.

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A fresh place to eat in the shadow of Union Station? No sooner does a reader share the word (“I’ve lunched there three days in a row!”) than a friend and I hop in a cab and join the line snaking outside the sunny yellow, two-story Toscana Cafe on a recent workday.

A gelato cart parked near some tables on the patio is a good omen. Scanning the menu on the wall inside, we are also pleased to see “homemade” lasagna and pizza offered by the slice. We order both, throw in a sandwich and a plastic cup of tiramisu, pay for the spread at a cash register and head outside to soak up some afternoon rays and verify my tipster’s rave.

Read the entire review at the Washington Post