Francesco Farris was thirteen years old the first time he cooked for anyone other than his own family. It was New Year’s Eve, and he’d decided, the way only a thirteen-year-old can decide something like this, that he was going to make dinner for his friends. He remembered his mother’s simple pasta, just olive oil, garlic, and one long, thin chile pepper. He went to the market in Sardinia looking for that pepper. He couldn’t find one that size. So he grabbed ten of the small ones instead, figuring the math would work out.
It didn’t. The first friend to take a bite told him it was horrible, disgusting, way too spicy. Farris tells that story now the way most chefs tell their origin stories, with a laugh and a little wince, because it’s the moment he actually started paying attention to what he was doing in a kitchen.
He grew up working in his family’s restaurant in Sardinia before moving to Houston with his brother in the 1980s. The two of them eventually opened Arcodoro and Pomodoro together, restaurants built around the food they’d grown up eating, and brought both concepts to Dallas in the 2000s. In 2011, Farris decided it was time to build something entirely his own. He left the Oak Lawn locations behind and opened Zio Cecio on Lovers Lane, in the old Café Italia space, with his family’s recipes and, this time, nobody else’s name on the door.
“I don’t believe in fusion,” Farris has said. “Fusion to me equals confusion.” That’s the whole philosophy in one sentence, and it shows up on every plate. Inside, the room is a genuine tribute to where he came from: black-and-white photographs of the Farris family going back generations line the walls, and the food follows the same instinct. Nothing is reinvented for a Dallas audience. It’s just Sardinia, cooked the way he learned it.
The kitchen runs on a wood-burning oven Farris had custom built, and it shows up across the menu in ways that go beyond the pizzas. Start with the Focaccia Con Erbette Di Montagna, herbed focaccia with sea salt that regulars order before they’ve even opened the rest of the menu, or the Polpo Alle Spezie Al Carbone, tenderized octopus grilled and finished in a spicy tomato sauce. The Di Manzo Ai Capperi, beef carpaccio with capers and shaved Parmigiano, is a quiet standout for anyone who wants something lighter before the pasta course.
And the pasta course is really the point. The Malloreddus Orosei is imported Sardinian pasta tossed with Texas wild boar ragu and Flore Sardo cheese, about as direct a bridge between Sardinia and Texas as a menu gets. The Mezzeluna Alla Fonduta Di Pistacchio is ravioli filled with seafood and ricotta, finished in a pistachio cream sauce, and it’s the dish most people mention first when they talk about this restaurant. The La Bolognese Con Fettuccine, a beef and pork ragu built on San Marzano tomatoes, and the Lasagna, made with meat or a vegetarian version on request, round out the pasta list for anyone who wants something more familiar.
For the main course, the Costata Al Mattone, a 16-ounce aged ribeye marinated and roasted in the wood-burning oven, and the Scottadita Del Limbara, tenderized lamb chops finished with a red Cannonau wine reduction, are the two dishes that show off what that oven can really do. The Maialetto Sardo, slow-cooked suckling pig served with roasted potatoes, is the dish to order if you want to taste something you genuinely can’t get anywhere else in Dallas.
The wine list leans hard into Sardinia, and it’s worth letting it guide you rather than defaulting to something familiar. A glass of Cannonau, a Sardinian red, pairs naturally with the lamb, the ribeye, or really anything coming off that wood-fired grill. If you order seafood, ask for a Vermentino instead, a crisp white that Farris’s own regulars specifically request by name. Beyond the wine, the bar runs a full specialty cocktail program, along with a list of after-dinner amari, ports, and brandy flights poured an ounce at a time, built for lingering at the table rather than rushing to the check.
Save room for the Tiramisu, lady fingers soaked in Italian espresso and dipped in a mascarpone cream sauce, dusted with Piedmont chocolate. It’s the dessert regulars order without needing to see it on the menu.
The vibe here is closer to a neighborhood trattoria than a special-occasion Italian restaurant, even though the food is dressed up enough to earn an occasion. It’s intimate, a little dim, and built for a slow night rather than a quick one. There’s an enclosed porch that opens up when the weather cooperates, and a small patio for anyone who wants to eat outside. Reservations are genuinely worth making, especially on weekends, and the restaurant offers complimentary valet.
Zio Cecio is located at 4615 W. Lovers Lane in Dallas, open Tuesday through Saturday from 5 to 10 p.m., closed Sunday and Monday.
