Antipasto di Marco at Marco Cucina Romana

^{Photo: JOEL VEAK}

In the dense, misty jungle that is the world of romance, knowledge of the restaurant scene's terrain can be a real competitive advantage. First, it shows savoir-faire, a dedication to the pursuit of worthy pleasures. Further, being able to choose exactly the right spot to suit the evening, the neighborhood, and the mood can be like a squirt of WD-40 in love's rusty lock. But it's tricky business. Overly loud venues inhibit conversation. Too fancy can look like you're trying too hard. Food aversions are another minefield: you're not going home with the vegan you brought to the steakhouse. And you must avoid cliché: folks who lack imagination in the dining room may be presumed to be dull in other quarters, too.

So, are you sure you want to bring Ms. Right Now to the North End, Romeo? All those touristy, samey, Jersey-Shore-ish red-sauce joints that make you wait in line on the freezing sidewalk and then drop the check with your entrée? Maybe, if you're savvy enough to know about Marco Cucina Romana (253 Hanover Street, 2nd Floor, Boston, 617.742.1276), hidden in plain sight on the neighborhood's busiest block up a discreet flight of stairs. Dimly lit and cozy as hell (just a couple of dozen seats), it boasts casual, very friendly service and a thoughtful wine list that doesn't start at $60. The food is no sack of marinara-drenched clichés, either, rather a Roman notion of Italian cuisine. Vitello saltimbocca ($28) figuratively jumps in the mouth with a classically Lazian combination of essential flavors - the salt of prosciutto, the forest scent of sage, the cream of fontina, the umami of mushrooms, the sweetness of marsala - layered atop tender veal scaloppini. Or chef Matt Adboo can escort you north to Emilia-Romagna, plating a properly meaty, chunky Bolognese ($15 half, $26 full) atop perfect house-made tagliatelle.

And as any nonna in mourning weeds can tell you, sometimes Italian cuisine is all about the shopping, as in the antipasto di Marco ($18), a platter of simple, must-share tastes. There's the cool stuff: a quintessentially Roman hunk of burrata, a few pristine white anchovies over chickpea salad, little mounds of white bean salad and gently mashed tuna, marinated roasted red peppers, shredded marinated eggplant. Piquant, salty bits beckon from the center: hot peppers stuffed with prosciutto and mozzarella, crunchy caperberries, well-chosen olives, pickled cauliflower. Underneath are slices of perfect imported salumi: sopressata, mortadella, salami. No restaurant can feed you lines, Cyrano-like, to compensate for your anemic banter, but letting Marco feed your date fabulously will at least give your evening a sensual shove in the right direction.