Across from an artsy movie theater and The Pig, this small restaurant and shop adds considerable atmosphere to the Divine Pasta Co.'s fresh ingredients.

For the record, the Divine Pasta Co. is the manufacturer, and Cube the restaurant and retail space. But once settled into one of just a few tables—or onto a stool at the central booze-less bar—in the red room, niggling details flicker away in the candlelight. To start: cheeses. From Italy and the Netherlands, from goat and cow, from hard to semi-soft to blue, the crumbly bites were presented by an affable, well-versed server on small boards with each selection above its name written in chalk. A nice touch, as are the complementing nibbles like dried apricots and cashews. The charcuterie, pizzas and paninis were tempting, but we instead sampled the divine Divine Pasta. The spaghettini with checca (a bruschetta-y tomato concoction) was fresh and light, the roasted-eggplant ravioli spicy and fulfilling. Afterward, on the shelves bookending the room, easy-to-prepare lobster ravioli, saffron sauce, four-cheese mac-and-cheese and pizzas imported from Italy made us late enough we got a parking ticket. —Lonny Pugh