Café Alaia is full of surprises. Tucked into a bank of nondescript retail and dining establishments on a commercial strip of Garth Road in Scarsdale, Café Alaia is an anomaly: It serves flavorful food in a humble environment.A Scarsdale trattoria has the makings of a true Italian star.

Owner Vincenzo Alaia hails from a suburb of Naples — fiefdom of the famous San Marzano tomatoes, so he knows how to guide his kitchen to dish up luscious tomato sauces. His café reminded me of one my husband and I found in a small outpost in Palermo when a woman, brilliant sunlight glistening on her white hair like polished silver, fox links draping over her shoulders in 80° heat, stepped out from a trattoria that looked like it had been tested by the passage of decades. I asked her if the food was good. She put three cupped fingers to her lips and threw the place a kiss! We went in. Mama Mia, what good food!

Like that small restaurant, Café Alaia serves generally tasty food, some of which is excellent. Branzino, filleted from a whole fish that has been dewed with white wine, lemon juice, olive oil, and parsley, was simple perfection. Tender ravioli filled with spinach and ricotta were bathed in melted butter infused with woodsy sage leaves. Pappardelle, made in-house like the ravioli, were tossed with a thick, tomatoey lamb ragù. The Caesar salad, prepared without anchovies, was a nest of delicate greens bussed by a shower of Parmesan cheese.

Like that restaurant in Sicily, Café Alaia is stripped naked of decor. This is a house of wooden floors, tables, chairs, and overhead beams. Two long shelves, high up on one wall, are crowded with wine bottles while a contemporary, poster-size painting in flashy orange and black adorns the opposite wall. Off in one corner, there’s a bar meant for two, but the four stools bellied up to it make it too tight for comfort. In the evening, instrumental Italian music (a bit more rock at lunchtime) trickles in over the sound system as four waiters constantly check every table (at lunchtime on a snowy day, one young woman handled the few occupied tables).

On the night we visited, Alaia strode up and down the center divide between two rows of tables that accommodate about 40 people. Sometimes he would stop at a table and say hello; most of the time, he was scrutinizing if the water glasses were full, asking if the patrons were pleased with everything.