When the temperature falls to the shivering digits in Boston, there's nothing better way to beat the chill than to hunker down in a cozy spot like the South End's Coppa restaurant. My friends and I politely fight over silky slices of milky white lardo and duck proscuitto, but split two giant fontina-stuffed arancini with grave ceremony, as if they're the last ones the kitchen will ever make. Cleverly, we squirrel away house-cured white anchovies for our pumpkin and burrata pizza, all of which is just a prelude to spaghetti alla carbonara_with sea urchin, _orecchiette bolognese and the last remaining whole roasted branzino, stuffed with lemon and tarragon, that we were smart enough to order along with our bottles of wine right when we sat down. It doesn't stand a chance against a hunger like ours. —Kellie Evans