A WORD of warning to anyone intending to visit Cucina:

beware the complimentary bread basket. Its contents lure you to destruction as surely as siren mermaids to rocks.

It's not just the small matter of the very evident freshness of the breads, nor that they are accompanied by a luscious extra virgin olive oil with organoleptic characteristics that signal an impeccable pedigree. It's also the selection. Two-inch-high squares of moistly springy focaccia with semi-dried cherry tomatoes barely concealed on its dimpled surface, triangles of dense, blistered piadina, jagged slivers of brittle, wafer-like pane carasau, wholewheat and white pane casereccio ... it's a line-up fit to soften the resolve.

To make matters worse, you are egged on by personable, enthusiastic young men, who seem fresh from the mother country. More bread Signora? More oil? They might as well be whispering, "Go on, go on", in your ear. They should be arrested for aiding and abetting gluttony. My default low-carb policy was overruled in minutes.

I have noticed that chefs who lavish love and attention on breads often take similar care of other ingredients they handle, and this theory holds good at this restaurant on the mezzanine of the former Missoni, now G&V hotel in Edinburgh. Chef Mattia Camorani seems to treat as essentials elements that less pedantic chefs would sideline as peripherals. This is a kitchen that shops well, and can thus offer up some authentic tasters of il bel paese. So, for instance, the velvety rolls of herby lardo, doused with olive oil, that top the warm, wonderful, char-grilled focaccia come from not any old pig, but from la Cinta Senese, the ancient breed that occupies pride of place in Tuscany's gastronomic patrimony.

Sicilian caponata - a dish as traduced as Provencal ratatouille - was, for once, faithfully rendered, a well-lubricated mound of submissive aubergine, celery and ripe tomato, bound in a glorious sweet and sour melt with salty olives and capers, sweet raisins and caramelised onion. It was a steal at £3, as were other "small bites". Zucchine fritte - strings of fried courgette - rustled in their crisp, featherweight batter. Juicy morsels of cuttlefish worked improbably well in a salad lush with skinned tomato flesh and crunchy candied celery.

Despite the boutique hotel location, it would be perfectly possible to eat cheaply at Cucina. Just order a few "small bites" and get stuck into the bread basket. But then you wouldn't get to taste the more major courses: dishes such as duck with endive, confit peaches, and potato and fennel puree.

Our mood on the night was more vegetarian than carnivore, so we enjoyed some fantastic aubergine and ricotta-filled ravioli, bathed in a sublime buttery tomato sugo, and ricotta and parmesan-stuffed courgettes, which came with a golden pile of softly cooked, finely chopped saffron-scented vegetables. A very fine, very delicate, very interesting dish, but most people wouldn't be chuffed to pay £16 for it. The pricing policy at Cucina escapes me. It seems erratic.

It didn't go with what we were eating but, what the hell, I had a hunch that the potato and olive oil puree would be special. In the event it was nothing short of divine. We didn't turn away potato wedges roasted with rosemary that were brought in error either - let the unscheduled carb fest continue! - so I can vouch for those too.

Cucina's Achilles' heel would seem to be desserts. How Italian. Even the gelati weren't up to scratch; the pistachio one tasted as if the nuts had been over-roasted, the Marsala was downright odd, and didn't capture the flavour of Sicily's fabled fortified wine. Simple rhubarb and strawberry compote came with a much better yogurt ice cream and a superfluous, but nevertheless perfectly pleasant, foam.

Cucina boasts an extensive wine list, one that glories in Italy's rich, regional oenological diversity. Wine buffs will be in their element, with rare wines, such as Pecorino from the Marche, available by the glass.

Post-Missoni, the Italian brand's characteristic multi-coloured Spirograph-pattern fabrics remain, as do the linen-napped tabletops sparkling with glass and gleaming cutlery. Cucina remains a bright and stylish place to eat, now with admirably authentic Italian food.