The cheese tray at the brewery was built for four people, not the crowd of us circling it like vultures fifteen minutes into a two-hour panel discussion.
We stood there staring at what looked like a Polly Pocket accessory, doing the math on how a roomful of thirty adults were supposed to split eleven cubes of pepper jack.
Then, as the panel wound down and an audience member lobbed an off-color question, my phone buzzed. It was my coworker sitting across from me. “Wanna grab dinner across the street?”
My stomach didn’t wait for my brain to answer. Obviously.
We ran, more like sloshed, through the pouring rain, dodging puddles the size of Rhode Island, and landed inside Compané Trattoria dripping and laughing. Six of us, no reservation, on a Thursday night. The host sat us anyway, and if that’s not a small miracle, I don’t know what is.
First order of business: wine. We needed something to drink while we relitigated the Q&A and its parade of cringe-worthy questions. Compané’s by-the-glass list leans classic and affordable, mostly California with a few detours through France and Italy, and I landed on a Chianti ($13) that hit exactly right after the evening I’d had.
The service matched the mood. Our server checked in on us three or four times while we debated the menu and never once made us feel like the table that couldn’t commit.
We started with a couple house salads with deliciously garlicky croutons doing most of the heavy lifting alongside crumbles of gorgonzola, then split meatballs ($18) and fried arancini ($14) that were so huge, they hardly required a negotiation. For mains, most of the table went for pizza, and my dairy-free coworker ordered the lamb lollipops ($24), holding one up like a trophy before diving in.
By the second round of wine, the rain outside didn’t matter anymore. We’d traded a Polly Pocket cheese tray for something actually worth talking about, and I hadn’t even scratched the surface of why this place has locals so loyal.
Turns out, Compané has been building that loyalty for more than a decade. It started as Compané Brick Oven Bistro a few blocks away on Fairport’s North Main Street, where it opened in 2010.
After ten years there, the restaurant moved to the Cannery, the redeveloped complex that once housed the American Can Company. The new digs more than doubled its capacity, with room for about 200 people.
And what a glow-up. The room is dark and a little sexy, with floor-to-ceiling industrial windows that nod to the building’s factory past. There’s the warm flicker of the wood-fired oven, too, sending a smoky, yeasty aroma through the room. Near the entrance, a neon sign reads, “It was all a dream,” which feels about right. The whole place does have that slightly dreamy, date- night-after-dark quality.
My favorite spot is a row of two- to four-person booths tucked along the far side of the dining room. They’re cozy little alcoves that feel almost private, especially once the lights go down and the rest of the room fades into the background.
The night I was there with a tableful of coworkers, nearly every other booth was occupied by couples on dates. Take the hint.
Brendon Clar bought the restaurant in 2015 and has run it as owner and executive chef ever since. The name promises Italian, and the menu delivers the classics you’d hope for: gnocchi, penne vodka, pasta Bolognese. But about half the menu changes with the seasons. Come summer, the spaghetti gets sweet corn and crushed pistachios. Last winter, a roasted salmon special showed up with a grain salad and blood orange marmalade.
This isn’t your average red-sauce joint coasting on garlic bread and nostalgia, though the marinara here would hold its own against any of them.
If you find yourself starving in Fairport, like I was, don’t miss the parm. It comes in chicken ($25), veal ($29), or eggplant ($22)—your call—served over spaghetti with a tomato-basil ragu and a blanket of mozzarella and parmesan.
Compané makes all its pasta in-house, using an Italian extruder to produce penne, rigatoni, and other shapes that most restaurants just buy in bulk.
Keep an eye on the “primi,” or pasta, section. That’s where Clar takes the real swings, working in whatever produce is peaking that week. If something on there catches your eye, order it. It probably won’t make an appearance again until that produce comes back in season.
By the time the bill came, we all vowed never to leave our dinner plans to chance again. Next time, we’d know better than to roll into an event on an empty stomach.
The rain outside had stopped, though none of us noticed when. Funny how a good dinner can make you forget you started the night soaked, cranky, and staring down a cheese tray built for four.
Compané Trattoria
25 Parce Ave., Fairport
364-0873
This article originally appeared in the November/December 2026 issue of (585).
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