Donato & Co Ashby Avenue Berkeley Ca

There's a corner on Ashby Avenue in Berkeley that smells like hot bread and simmering garlic. You could walk right past it. Please don't.

That's Donato & Co, an Italian spot that feels less like a restaurant and more like somebody's very stylish, very well-fed aunt took over a storefront and started feeding the neighborhood.

The "Donato" is Donato Scotti, a chef from Bergamo, up near the Italian Alps. The "& Co" is everyone else — cooks, servers, pasta rollers, and whoever's pouring the wine.

Bergamo matters here. It's not the Italy of sun-drenched postcards. It's the Italy of casoncelli, brown butter, and food that hugs you.

Which is a strange and wonderful thing to find on a Berkeley avenue better known for hardware stores and commuter traffic.

The Pasta Is Not a Side Note

Fresh pasta gets made in-house, and sometimes you can watch it happen. Sheets of dough. The crank of a machine. Flour on somebody's apron.

Order the casoncelli if it's on the menu. They're little filled pasta parcels from Bergamo, usually finished with sage and butter.

They taste like someone's nonna is standing behind the kitchen door with crossed arms, waiting for your verdict.

Fair warning: the portions are not dainty. You'll still order dessert.

Roman Pizza, Berkeley Zip Code

The pizza plays by Roman rules. Long rectangular slabs, sold al taglio — literally "by the cut."

The crust is airy and crackly at the same time, which feels like a magic trick. You'll buy "just one piece" and then buy three.

Don't call it a slice joint. It's a pizza counter, and it takes itself exactly the right amount of seriously.

Donato & Co. offers Italian cuisine in Berkeley’s Elmwood district

Aperitivo Hour Is the Whole Point

Early evening, the place shifts gears. That's aperitivo — Italy's pre-dinner ritual of a drink plus a little something to nibble.

A spritz. A glass of something white and crisp. Olives, salumi, a plate you didn't plan on and don't regret.

It's not a happy hour in the American sense. It's slower, chattier, and always involves somebody gesturing with their hands.

Come alone and sit at the bar. Come with five friends and take the long table. Both work.

The Little Shelf of Temptation

Somewhere near the front, there's usually a small market moment — imported pasta, olive oil, tinned fish, maybe a jar of something you can't pronounce.

You came for dinner. You leave with groceries. This is normal here.

It's a sneaky trick, honestly. The retail shelf turns a Tuesday dinner into a pantry restock.

Coffee, Because of Course

Espresso shows up the way it should: small, dark, and gone in two sips. No venti anything.

Order one at the end of a meal and you'll feel briefly, gloriously Italian.

You'll also feel awake enough to drive home. Win-win.

Weekend Adventures Update: Berkeley: Donato & Co.; restaurant review

The Berkeley Thing

Ashby Avenue is a genuinely odd strip. Neighborhoody on one end, roaring with traffic on the other, and weirdly close to everything.

That's part of the charm. You're near the Claremont, near BART, near a dozen streets where parking is a competitive sport.

And then suddenly: fresh pasta. Berkeley does this constantly, and it never stops being fun.

Why It's Fun to Talk About

Because it isn't trying to be a scene. There's no velvet rope, no DJ, no fifteen-dollar ice cube.

It's a restaurant where the point is eating well and staying a while. That's a rare and beautiful business model.

It also gives you excellent conversational ammunition. "I know this little Italian place on Ashby" is a great sentence.

Go, Order, Wander

Start with something bubbly. Get pasta. Get pizza even though you got pasta. Get espresso.

Sit too long. Talk too loud. Point at the dessert menu and lie about sharing it.

Then walk out onto Ashby Avenue, slightly overfed and quietly delighted, and wonder why you don't do this more often.

That's the Donato & Co effect. It's not a grand statement. It's just really good food, served like it matters.