The problem is that it rarely comes back.
I worked this out all on my Jack Jones when I decided to burn some rubber on the way to a new dolce vita venue far from the Smoke.
I decided to make like a dead fish and go with the flow.
And that meant punching the name of Paolo's Italian Kitchen into the sat nav and heading for Airdrie.
"So another spaghetti house, Buster," said the Moll drily when I crashed the Buick's anchors outside the joint.
"You'll forgive me if I don't exactly jump through hoops…"
I ignored the cheap jibe - the Moll could make a happy meal cry. But I had high hopes for this place, which has only been linked to the food chain for a couple of months.
Toots expected Paolo to meet us at the door and was already flashing her eyes in the hope of eyeing an Italian stallion.
But I doubt it really was Paolo … his accent was more Newhouse than Napoli.
Still, buongiorno means the same in any lingo.
And he was definitely speaking my language when it came to style.
The Kitchen was bijou - that's Tec lingo for a bit on the small side - but it looked like the kinda place that does posh nosh provided you hit the a la carte road.
And it was packing them in this lunchtime, but Blondie's new BFF managed to squeeze us in near the window.
Word had clearly got round in these parts of a new kid in the culinary block. Judging by the number of dames, it was proving to be a big hit with the laydeez.
Talking of big hits, my cash reservoir was running dry, so the two-courses for less than eight smackers seemed like a deal to me.
The lunchtime menu didn't go OTT on the choice front but it was still pretty decent.
When it comes to trattorias I'm a traditionalist, so the minestrone got my vote right away. I'm happy to say it tasted just like momma used to make.
Across the table, the Moll was making short work of her deep-fried mushrooms.
They were a good bit weightier than the normal button job you get in some places and a quick calculation showed eight mushrooms to be good value.
The mushrooms were juicy, even though the batter had been slightly overdone. On the debit side, however, the garlic dip was pretty bland.
Feeling a bit lily-livered these days, I had decided to stay on the wagon with the soft drink stuff.
THE Moll, however, felt duty bound to charge in with a Merlot and now she was licking her lips - a kind of Terminator sign that signalled a refill was required.
Then it was time for Toots to say pasta la vista for her mains.
In for a penne, in for a pound was her mantra, and the penne arrabbiata was ideal for a saucy minx like the Moll.
The dried chillis and peppers made this a right nippy dish for my sweetie.
And the fresh tomatoes also packed a bit of a wallop.
But the real brownie points go to the pasta, which was creamily delicious.
Being a newbie, I had hoped Paolo's might have gone for a menu that differed from the usual suspects, even at lunchtime.
So the fact that I opted for the chicken suggests it's a place that prefers the tried and tested, which is fine as things go and the chicken was top notch.
The two chunky pieces of poultry were too big for the plate. My big gripe, though, was over the tiny amount of white wine sauce, which seemed almost like an afterthought.
I could have flashed a few more shekels for dessert but I wanted to keep the wiggle room for my wallet, which ensured that a bank-friendly bill with a reasonable tip still kept the joint in credit.
This is one kitchen that can stand the heat.