The Tuscan trattoria-inspired Ship Street newcomer is an instant classic and neighbourhood mainstay where we'd happily eat every night of the week
A great neighbourhood restaurant needs to be many things to many people—a gathering space, a reliable safe haven, a comfort zone. They're anchors in storms—built around menus and meals you'd want to eat every single day, and run by people you can't wait to see, who welcome you home every time you walk through their doors. Within the first three weeks Associazione Chianti was open, I ate there six times—partially for the sake of this review you're reading, but mostly because I'd been looking forever for a regular neighbourhood haunt. At Associazione Chianti, I found love at first bite.
Behind its glossy façade—a red-and-gold beacon situated smack in the centre of the quietly thriving Ship Street restaurant thoroughfare—guests are transported to a vibrant, convivial space, where the setting, colours, smells, and flavours evoke all the emotion and atmosphere of a Tuscan trattoria. The ingredients-forward menu, by executive chef Josh Stumbaugh—who decamped to Hong Kong from New York's legendary Barbuto with two sous chefs in tow earlier this year—highlights simple, authentic classics. A large-format Bistecca alla Fiorentina cut from melt-in-your-mouth grass-fed Black Angus sourced from Idaho is the clear star of the show, but don’t sleep on Chianti’s other shareable mains—the Pollo al Burro Omaggio a Sostanza is a chicken breast pan-fried in a luxurious puddle of brown butter, a dish created in homage to the legendary Trattoria Sostanza in Florence.
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My favourite restaurants have always fallen somewhere in the liminal space between the not-too-casual and never-stuffy—they're quietly extraordinary (not shout-y) and imbued with a strong sense of place. Chianti is unfussy in both concept and execution—its Italian logic and rhythm, exported and adapted for a Hong Kong audience, feels like a familiar friend for an expat like me, whose restaurant sartorial ideal is rooted somewhere in the nostalgia of early-2000s Keith McNally. The vibes at Chianti, with its bottle-lined walls, flickering molten candles on every table, and red banquettes arranged around a room optimised for people-watching—not to mention the glossy prosciutto slicer that takes pride of place in the centre of it all—inspire long, leisurely evenings.
