WALKING into Ciao Napoli, it’s hard not to look around for the candles stuck in Chianti bottles.

Tucked away in Mawdsley Street, Bolton town centre, rather aptly for me in the building which used to house the old Bolton Evening News, Ciao Napoli seems happily unaware of any interior design concepts from later than 1978.

And, similarly, the food is “typical” Italian, by which I mean it mostly has names that have since become so common in British supermarkets that the English translations are somewhat unnecessary.

There’s no veal carpaggio here, although in a charming nod to “special occasion” dining they do offer salmone champagne, branzino mediteraneo (sea bass cooked with Mediterranean vegetables) and a rather tasty-sounding trota al proscutio crudo — grilled trout wrapped in parma ham and served in white wine and butter.

We had garlic bread (£3.20) to whet our appetites — it was the proper flat stuff that I remember eating out as a child, none of this baguette or dough ball nonsense favoured by the likes of certain pizza chains.

Not wanting to stretch our stomachs too far, we passed on proper starters, although the selection is impressive — including as it does the fabulously named gamberoni casanova (£6.50), a concoction of king prawns, garlic, white wine and chilli, plus several cold-meat dishes, two types of garlic mushroom, spare ribs (£5.50) and, naturally, that staple of the 1970s dinner party, prawn cocktail with Marie-Rose sauce (£4.80).

For main, I had risotto romano (£8.50), which consisted of chicken, mushrooms, onions, parmesan, tomato and cream, while my partner opted for spaghetti amatriciana (£8) — spaghetti with bacon, onion, tomato sauce and chilli. Given the surroundings, I thought that the only proper thing to do would be to make like “lady and the tramp”. He, sadly, disagreed.

The waiter cajoled us into dessert, at which point I, to my great joy, discovered they served lemon sorbet in a real, hollowed-out lemon (£3.50), just like I often had as a child on holiday in Europe. This was clearly a grievous waste of a high-calorie opportunity according to the boyfriend. He had tiramisu (£3.50), served in a bowl that looked suspiciously similar to the ones my mother serves ice-cream in, purchased with petrol points circa the Charles and Diana wedding.

I don’t want to sound disparaging. The place has a real nostalgic charm, and while the food will never earn any Michelin stars, it’s a refreshing change to the pretentious and overly reverent atmospheres of many big city restaurants. Plus, the whole meal, including a bottle of Nero d’Avola at £14.50 and coffees, came to £43.80 for two — good value if you pass on the slightly overpriced starters.

It just felt odd, like dining in an interactive museum dedicated to “the way we were”. And with the world going to hell in a handcart, sometimes that’s quite nice.