All you really need to know about Cibo, a new little Italian joint on Dupont, just west of Spadina, can be summed up in three words: moon-dried tomatoes.

Not content with serving the overly salty, usually chewy, sun-dried variety offered on most menus, owner/chef Ros McCurdy (formerly of Smalltalk) defiantly makes his own. Whole, fresh tomatoes are brought in, cut and soaked with olive oil and herbs, then left to dry in an oven at low heat overnight (for 36 hours, actually). The shrivelled result has all the intense flavour of your bagged brand minus the excess sodium count and beef-jerky toughness. Voila: an ’80s cliché reborn and made fresh! Uh, dried. And when the tomatoes are combined with dollops of oil-rich pesto, thin slices of Reggiano and a drizzling of balsamic, the resultant appetizer plate ($7.99) scores big.
It’s this make-it-yourself philosophy, perhaps picked up during McCurdy’s year-long sojourn through northern Italy, that makes Cibo a tratt definitely worth a visit. Bread is baked on the premises, elevating sandwiches like the panino al pollo ($6.99) — with chicken, a mélange of roasted peppers, Asiago cheese and a zippy garlic-eggplant spread — to an instant modern Italian comfort-food classic.

Ditto for the dough of the thin crust pizzas ($9.99 for the basic Margherita with tomato, basil and mozzarella; $13.99 for the smoked salmon–topped Leslie). When the moon hits your eye, go for the Gina ($11.99), an option refreshingly different from the usual open-faced American pizza pie. Folded over on a delightfully crisp and puffy flat-bread crust (a cross between a scaccia and a flour tortilla), are loads of room-temp prosciutto, baby arugula and some of those luscious lunar tomatoes in a tangy lemon vinaigrette. Light, fresh and surprisingly filling, it’s a clever choice for a main and a salad all rolled into one.

And don’t get us going on the house-made veal sausage ($13.99). Delicioso! McCurdy splits the casing and grills his juicy salsiche flat, providing a generous dose of primal, smoky goodness to each bite.

Alas, the sides don’t stand up quite as well. A mess of caramelized onions are drowning in balsamic, with a sweet level right off the glycemic index. A pool of tepid rosemary-mashed potatoes suffer from a pabulum-esque texture, probably from an overzealous addition of cream — a minor stumble.
But we have nothing but praise for the pasta e fagioli ($11.99), which captures the real rustic essence of this traditional peasant dish. It’s a generous portion of al dente tubeletti tossed together with tender white beans in a bowl of rich broth, punched up with a smattering of prosciutto, escarole and (what else?) moon-dried tomatoes.

Authenticity continues into desserts. A lunchtime run on the house-made biscotti ($1.75) leaves us with nothing to dip into our fabulous decaf Americanos ($1.99), but a square of moist and airy home-style tiramisu ($5.95) more than makes up for it. And if you really want to go decadent, skip the coffee and try a coco latte ($4.59) instead, made by melting chocolate into cream, and topped with a house-made marshmallow.

There’s an honesty about McCurdy’s food, a sincerity as charming as the product displays of Coca-Cola and San Marzano cans littered throughout. Cibo is not about trying to blow your mind with new and bold techniques or ingredients. It’s just a simple, straight-up sandwich shop done right.