Back to old-school cool

As we cooled our heels in a booth at La Dolce Vita in Beverly Hills, we wondered where our friend Jane could be. Traffic, most likely. But by the time half an hour had gone by, I’d figured it out. She was at the wrong restaurant.

A quick call confirmed she’d been sitting at Da Vinci down the street, sipping a martini dry, imagining we were stuck on the freeway. Who would have thought there could be two similar old-school Italians within a block of each other on Little Santa Monica?

In the dark, they look remarkably the same -- a tall curve of awning over each door, a topiary flanking each doorway, a tongue of red carpet leading up to each entry. But Da Vinci was Dino territory, while La Dolce Vita was Sinatra’s hangout.

I had made the same mistake one night. Following the maitre d’ to a table, I realized mid-stride that the bar was in the wrong place and the color scheme was different (pastel, rather than brick and burgundy). Wrong restaurant, I sheepishly confessed.

It happens all the time, La Dolce Vita’s longtime maitre d’, Ruben Castro, told me when I explained why we were late.

Though the two are a lot alike, La Dolce Vita has a jolt of new energy due to a much-needed restoration from a trio of new owners. They bought it because they love the place and consider it a home away from home. Young Hollywood is discovering its nostalgic appeal too, joining the old faithful for well-made martinis and osso buco.

Chasen’s is gone. Perino’s is gone. All gone, Castro laments, shaking his head. Castro (whose patrons call him Ruben) started at La Dolce Vita when he was 21. That was 1974. One evening a couple of years later, actor George Raft, who was one of the three owners who opened the restaurant in 1966, put the keys to his white 1974 Coupe de Ville on the table and told Castro he was too old to drive. It’s over, he said. I’m giving you my car.

Those were the good old days, when the stars and the town’s movers and shakers stopped in for dinner and drinks. Everyone knew each other. Castro remembers when Ronald Reagan was governor and the Reagans had their own booth. And when Frank Sinatra would hold court at booth No. 1 and tip royally, announcing to anybody listening that the staff was family. It was a neighborhood restaurant for the wealthy and famous.

Some of the old crowd is still around, for sure, happy to have its own place, where the bartender knows how regulars like their drinks and the kitchen will prepare fettuccine or veal scaloppine just the way they like it. On certain nights, it seems as if everybody at every table knows each other. Young couples will stop by to visit with the rich philanthropist at one table. Another group hops up to kiss everyone at a neighboring table goodbye before heading off into the quiet Beverly Hills night.

New owners Ben Myron, Alessandro Uzielli and David Simmer have restored the decor to its former luster, which is to say clubby. The walls are brick, and mirrors seem not only to enlarge the windowless space but also to give almost every table a view of the entire room. An oil painting of Venetian gondolas hangs over the booth designated “the Reagans” in bronze. George Raft has his too. Table lamps at the back corners of the booths cast a warm, flattering light. Bottles of wine, some of them very good -- Barbarescos, Barolos, super Tuscans, some with very high markups -- are gathered in little groups around the room, which makes you, naturally, think about trying some.

Castro and his staff fuss over diners in the nicest possible way. If you walk in without a reservation, he’ll apologize that he doesn’t have a table right away and offer you a glass of wine, a nice Pinot Grigio, at the bar. Newbies, I notice, tend to feel right at home, introducing themselves to the bartender as a statement that they intend to be back now that they’ve found this lost-in-time restaurant.

And why not? It’s fun. It’s quiet enough to really enjoy a conversation over dinner. Nobody is panting for your table. It’s yours, more or less, for the evening. And the food, I have to say, is better than Dan Tana’s or the Polo Lounge, to name a couple of other nostalgia-driven restaurants of note. It may not be the most modern or the most authentic Italian cooking, but it’s true to its East Coast red sauce roots, enjoyable, if expensive for what it is. You could say the same about any number of Beverly Hills restaurants. But at least here you’re getting something: crackerjack service and a pleasant evening with friends.

Italian comfort food

Among the starters is mozzarella marinara, a slab of the supple Italian cheese, warmed through and gooey at the center, in a fresh, loose tomato sauce. Eat it with a fork; put it on your bread. Either way, it’s basic Italian comfort food. The soup stracciatella alla romana falls in that category too, a bowl of chicken broth (which could be richer) with emerald green spinach leaves, Parmesan and a raw egg stirred into it for an Italian version of egg drop soup.

I’m also fond of the baked clams oreganata, basically cherrystone clams on the half shell, strewn with bread crumbs, garlic and a little oregano and baked or broiled till they’re browned on top. The Caesar is old school and quite decent, basically crisp, torn romaine with a garlicky dressing. Roasted peppers are deep red and flavorful, garnished with a slick of olive oil and some fairly good anchovies.

When it comes to the pasta and main courses, you’ll see the waiters fussing at a cart on the side. Every dish is warmed just before serving it. The idea of any plate arriving at your table stone cold, or even tepid, is sacrilegious to this crew.

Fettuccine Alfredo is one of the classics here, nicely al dente, and draped in cream and Parmesan -- what’s not to like? Lasagna verde stands up too, spinach pasta layered with a light besciamella and a nicely balanced meat ragu. You can basically get spaghetti any way you like it -- alla checca, amatriciana, carbonara, Caruso, puttanesca -- and get a reasonable facsimile. Veal cannelloni doesn’t show up on Italian menus too often anymore, but they do have it here; while it may not be a revelation, it’s perfectly fine. They’ve even got a dish that could have come off the menu of the film “Big Night.” It’s eggplant stuffed with angel hair pasta, fresh tomato and basil, and it reminds me of my Italian great-aunt’s cooking, simple and satisfying, if the pasta is a little overcooked.

Interestingly, this is one restaurant where they don’t hustle you for the bottled water. I had to ask for it, in fact. One sip of regular water, though, and it’s bottled all the way. But the water glasses reek of chlorine so much, we can’t drink the bottled either. Curiously, the wineglasses don’t.

I had to try the steak Sinatra, of course, which turns out to be filet mignon with roasted red and green peppers on top, a familiar taste dressed up with a fancy cut of steak. At $36, this little taste of nostalgia seems awfully expensive for what it is. So is the broiled sausage with peppers and fresh tomato on a bed of rigatoni, but if that’s what you feel like eating, and you’re here, why not? Veal saltimbocca is salty, but isn’t it always? Veal scaloppine, either in a Marsala sauce or piccata (with lemon and capers), is tender and not too floury.

I wouldn’t recommend the chicken Fiorentina, though. It’s a dried-out chicken breast stuffed with spinach and bread crumbs and very bland. I would recommend the osso buco, which chef Jeronimo Ceballos prepares only on Thursdays. It’s so popular that it’s a good idea to reserve an order ahead to avoid being disappointed. I’ve had some with more marrow in the bones, but this is your basic braised veal shank, unctuous and tender, served, however, without the classic gremolata.

Desserts are not really this restaurant’s strong suit. You can get a gooey sweet ricotta cheesecake, a gooey sweet tiramisu, or an incredibly sweet -- and gooey -- cannoli. Zabaglione for two, always a favorite, I forgot to try. And I missed the spumoni cake too. Spumoni? That’s a word that hasn’t crossed my path since I was a kid.

La Dolce Vita is banking on affection for a time when clams oreganata, fettuccine and linguine, steak with peppers and veal Marsala meant living the high life. It was also a time when the customer was always right, and when restaurants were quiet and comfortable enough to carry on a conversation with friends for an entire evening. Sounds preposterous, I know. But here’s at least one restaurant that’s keeping the faith.

*

La Dolce Vita

Rating: **

Location: 9785 Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills; (310) 278-1845.

Ambience: Classic Beverly Hills Italian founded by actor George Raft in 1966 with clubby decor, a small bar populated with regulars, and a devoted staff. Frequented by both Old Hollywood and New for its nostalgic appeal and old-school Italian cooking.

Service: Extremely attentive: Here, the customer is always right.

Price: Appetizers, $7 to $18; salads, $8 to $18; pasta, $18 to $31; main courses, $20 to $36; desserts, $6 to $10.

Best dishes: Scampi, roasted pepper with anchovies, baked clams oreganata, mozzarella marinara, Caesar salad, stracciatella soup, fettuccine Alfredo, rigatoni Bolognese, steak Sinatra, calf’s liver Veneziano, broiled sausage with peppers.

Wine list: Some top-notch Italians along with some very average ones too, most at high markups. Corkage, $20.

Best table: One of the horseshoe-shaped booths with

a brass plaque dedicated to George Raft or the Reagans.

Special features: The kitchen will gladly prepare any dish requested.

Details: Open for dinner Monday through Saturday,

5 p.m. to 2 a.m. Full bar. Valet parking, $4.

Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. ****: Outstanding on every level. ***: Excellent. **: Very good. *: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.