Address: 15 Lyuben Karavelov Str
Tel: 02/ 981 87 18
Open: 10am to 10:30pm

There's much more to Mediterranean cuisine than olive oil and pasta, but a Mediterranean-inspired restaurant that charges for olive oil and bungles on its pasta is a broken promise. And yet, how often do we forgive loved ones their failure to fully deliver on their promises? Just as often, perhaps, as I'm likely to return to Red Cafe, despite some major faux pas in an otherwise impressive act.

Located in the shady tunnel-like garden of The Red House Centre for Culture and Debate, Red Cafe manages to exude a laid-back attitude, despite the screaming Miro-inspired tables in white, black and red, which face the tin pales with potted garden geraniums in all shades of red, lined along the looming deep red wall of the historic building that houses the centre. The generally polite and casual service mirrors that attitude, so much so that on one visit the server brought us two shopska salads and a beer that were destined for two tables over, then delayed our actual order by 20 minutes (maybe it went to someone else...), all done with such a disarming smile that we failed to take umbrage.

Red Cafe's menu is a thoughtful and manageable selection of light seasonal dishes, complemented by a small but well-chosen wine list. We tried three of the eight salads available (prices ranging from 3.80 to 7.80 leva). The tomatoes with roasted peppers and olives seemed to come from the freezer, which detracted from their flavour - a pity with tomato season finally in full swing. The peppers were roasted in-house, or at least they lacked that faint canned taste that accompanies roasted peppers coming out of a jar. The olives were actually a single large fleshy black olive, known in Bulgaria as mamut, which many people seem to fancy, though I find terribly bland.

Unlike the olive, the cheese in the tomatoes with fresh cheese and basil salad was super-salty, and, contrary to our expectations, arrived shredded. The fresh basil was encouraging, given the dried variety ubiquitous in Bulgarian restaurants.

The size of the arugula with cherry tomatoes and parmesan salad justified the steepest price on the salad menu. The chef had gone generous on both the cherry tomatoes and parmesan (well, it tasted more like Grana Padana, the younger, milder, less nutty sister of Parmigiano Reggiano, but let's not split cheese shavings here). The salad arrived perfectly seasoned, which only deepened the mystery of why wine vinegar and sunflower oil stood where balsamic vinegar and olive oil should have been on the table.

Of the three soups, minestrone, tarator (a cold youghurt-and-cucumber soup) and seasonal vegetables cream soup, we sampled the delicious cream of carrots and zucchini, which had great texture, a dollop of creme fraiche and croutons served on the side, as they should be to avoid the unpleasant sight and taste of soggy bread. Our only gripe was the uneven temperature, which smacked of microwaving.

Of the appetisers, I recommend the roasted zucchini with feta and tomatoes, perfectly cooked to preserve a crunchy bite and the rosemary roasted potatoes, that looked picture-perfect with a golden crust and a fresh sprig of rosemary.

The pasta menu (prices from 5.80 to 7.80 leva) impresses with its simplicity, featuring items like spaghetti with olive oil, garlic, hot pepper and parsley; spaghetti with cherry tomatoes and basil; and penne with tomatoes, capers, garlic, olives and basil. On my first visit the spaghetti arrived perfectly al dente, and in an outburst of gluttony I contemplated getting a second order. But on my second visit, the penne was boiled well past its prime. Both sauces were light and delicate.

The selection of deserts, though in line with Red Cafe's cuisine, was too conformist for my liking, for items like cheesecake, chocolate souffle and tiramisu have become the standard fare in town. I've come to expect little from cheesecakes and tiramisus, which I've been served in anything from a bowl to a flute glass and all too often involved excessive amounts of whipped cream. But the tiramisu at Red Cafe was a pleasant surprise - moist and with true mascarpone - unlike the cheesecake, which had a perfumed taste.

Overly-chilled tomatoes and over-cooked penne aside, in three separate visits, Red Cafe scored consistently high on what ultimately brings one back to a restaurant: the experience. More than simply the sum of food, service and ambiance, the dining experience is what stays long after the bill has been settled and the palate cleaned. Chalk it up to the pleasant crowd, unlike in some of Sofia's better restaurants that tend to turn into a stage for mutra opulence; to the ubiquitous colour red, known to increase appetite and make one lose track of time; to the regal tree crowns shading the garden from the relentless sun; to the friendly (albeit occasionally absent-minded) service - all of which help make Red Cafe a good place for a light and casual meal with a sophisticated touch.