The simplest thing on this entire menu, and one of the most frequently ordered, which is a pattern I've stopped finding surprising. Peppery greens, good cheese, and nothing standing between them.
Serves 4 as a starter or side.
Pile the arugula onto a platter or individual plates. Using a vegetable peeler, shave long curls of Parmigiano generously over the top.
Whisk the lemon juice with a good drizzle of olive oil, salt, and pepper, and pour it evenly over the salad just before serving. Toss gently, or don't -- the shaved cheese looks better left mostly where it lands.
If the salad tastes flat, it needed more lemon or more salt -- arugula's natural bitterness wants something bright to push against it, and a timid dressing simply disappears underneath the leaves. If the Parmigiano won't shave into proper curls and crumbles instead, it was too cold; let it sit out for a few minutes first, or use a sharper peeler. And if the whole thing tastes limp rather than fresh, the arugula was dressed too far ahead of serving; this salad wants to be eaten within a few minutes of being finished, not held.
A tourist attempted to place his entire order in Italian, working visibly from a phrasebook, and produced a request so elaborately, formally polite it read less like a lunch order and more like a diplomatic address to a visiting head of state. Rosa had to turn fully away from the table to keep a straight face while he finished, with evident pride in his own preparation.
He got his salad, and a glass of prosecco nobody bothered to put on his bill, and left without ever quite understanding why every single person on staff had smiled at him so warmly the entire time.