You can taste the difference. A waft of rosemary perfume approaches the table a split second before the plate of warm, fresh Lombardia focaccia arrives. Four thick slices with a crispy crust and fluffy inside are salted to perfection. A dollop of creamy Gorgonzola is presented with a hollowed center, creating a small well for a pool of verdant olive oil. It’s unclear whether it’s the warmth from the oil or the heat from the bread that begins to melt the Gorgonzola dolce. What is clear is that the sight of the drippy cheese gliding across the wooden plank it’s presented on is glorious.

Under Contorni di Verdure, the menu’s slot for a rotation of vegetables and sides, organic Michigan-grown corn is milled into a creamy polenta. A savory cauliflower sugo is ladled over the porridge and topped with buttery pine nuts for a soft crunch.

Lombardo credits SheWolf’s miller and pastaio (Italian for pasta maker), Seth High, for the team’s ability to mill 100% of the flour and cornmeal used in each dish. Like a swift game of hot potato, High, the tall, good-humored gent who spends the most time in the pastificio-cum-chemistry lab, tosses the adulation back to Lombardo. “It’s not about me,” High says. “He’s the guy in front of this all.”

Lombardo was raised in Sterling Heights. Yet the SheWolf chef, who was born to Italian parents — his mother from Abruzzo, his father Sicilian — says he wanted to create a con- temporary Italian restaurant befitting any city in Italy. “People think they know Italian food, but they really don’t, so we do a lot of education with the staff. For example, making sure the servers are saying ‘Parmigiano’ and not ‘Parmesan.’ Parme- san is a word that the Kraft [Foods] corporation trademarked, and it just means grated cow’s milk cheese. We use Parmigiano-Reggiano, which is the king of cheeses and the cheese of kings.” In addition to language lessons, Lombardo implements regional Italian cooking classes with servers, whom he sees as the “salespeople” of the dining room.