After visiting Apertivo when it first opened about three years ago, I remember feeling pretty convinced that the unselfish portion sizes of its Italian tapas would eventually shrink and that its low price points would spike ridiculously. Anyone who knows firsthand a restaurant owner’s struggle to preserve the bottom line would have surely agreed.

Having peeked in last week with a friend, I was proven wrong. Pity those who flock to places like the Olive Garden for salty and overpriced sub-standard Italian dishes. Apertivo’s food not only carries more breadth and passion than ever before, it’s still a giveaway bargain with decent-sized plates costing a mere $8 at most.

The restaurant’s menu, wine list and wait staff have expanded, as well as the space itself. Owners Ken Cassinelli and his wife, Janie, cut into an adjoining storefront earlier this year, allowing for more tables, a bigger kitchen and an extra restroom. But in the slothful city bureaucracy that plagues so many mom-and-pop restaurateurs seeking booze permits, customers must stick to the original dining area or back-wall wine bar to drink adult beverages until a license is granted to serve them throughout the entire room. The night we visited, only the handful of tables in the “dry side” of the restaurant remained largely empty.

I had forgotten how much I loved Apertivo’s pasta puttanesca until twirling my fork again in the mound of spaghetti laced with capers, black olives, tomatoes and anchovies that are melted into an olive oil base. Also extraordinary is the Caesar salad of all things – thanks to a rich, garlicky dressing thickened by wet crumbles of Parmesan cheese. And the marinara here is bright and basic, an accurately fast-cooked sauce using basil, garlic, red wine and whole tomatoes that Cassinelli squishes by hand.

Some of Cassinelli’s recipes originate from his grandmother. Others stem from an intuitive, charged-up knack for cooking.

“I’m an addict for food and started cooking in the third grade,” he said. “I grew up watching Julia Child and the Galloping Gourmet.”

Nothing we ate descended even remotely into the mediocre zone. Prosciutto-wrapped shrimp, for instance, develops a beautiful sheath of crispiness as the thinly sliced ham hits the pan of heated olive oil. It’s a superior rendition of bacon-wrapped shrimp that I’ve had in other restaurants, where the crustaceans become invariably upstaged by the bacon’s saltiness. Cassinelli has figured out that subtler prosciutto is the wiser choice, earning him a recipe mention in Deliciously Italian, a nationally released cookbook celebrating traditional family recipes.

Three splendid items we tried from the list of daily specials were braised leeks in béchamel sauce revealing a whisper of nutmeg. Rarely do I see leeks on local menus, so their earthy, scallion-like flavor was a welcome treat. Equally wowing was chunky tenderloin in a judiciously creamy ragu served over a choice of pasta. The recipe puts all other meat “sauces” to shame, and I would rally to see this dish promoted to permanent status on the regular menu before somebody steals it. Ditto for the Bosc pear poached in Marsala wine that we had for dessert, appointed in an oh-so-fitting Gorgonzola cream sauce.

“Nona Serventi’s” homemade ravioli pays tribute to grandma, who taught Cassinelli the art of making thin sheets of egg pasta for creating super lightweight casings. Inside was a modest layering of ricotta and chopped spinach. On top were plops of the cherry-red marinara that I could eat as soup.

Pliant, warm goat cheese served as the filler for baked eggplant rollotini, a more exciting choice compared to everyday eggplant Parmesan. Our manicotti tasted classic, although the tubes were rather heavily mantled by Mozzarella. And ranking among my favorite dishes was chicken diablo hiding tender pieces of breast meat in a dark-red sauce of sun-dried tomatoes and red chili flakes. Here, the sauce is cooked to just the burning point to add an indirect smoky zing.

Since these are not what I’d call pigmy tapas, we never got around to ordering lamb shank osso bucco, which I’ve been told by friends is extraordinary. Nor did we indulge in the turkey meatballs. I ate those with glee on my initial visit and was happy to see them still in the offing for only a buck a ball.

Among our lighter choices were marinated baby artichokes imported from southern Italy. They actually weren’t so petite, but rather medium-sized bulbous gems with delicate brine permeating their soft, meaty hearts. Sweet roasted red peppers struck a wholesome match to the complimentary bread sticks, or you can pair them ideally with mixed olives, oven-roasted carrots or crimini mushrooms sautéed in sherry.

Pasta choices abound with about 15 types of sauces and toppings suitable for marriage to five different cuts of noodles. Chicken, too, comes in several styles – Parmesan, piccata, marsala or plainly grilled.

The red wines we sampled (some local and others Italian) offered good complexity and discernible fruit. There are about 60 labels available by the glass, all affordably priced, along with a few Italian beers.

Much has been said about the noise level when Apertivo fills up. I wasn’t bothered by it this time around because the din was festive in a communal “eat, drink and be happy” sense. Service was speedier and smoother than what I remember. And for the first time in ages, I came away from a local Italian restaurant that replaces slapdash slop with veritable heart and soul.