STILL THE GOOD OLD DAYS AT CARMINE’S

In Providence, R.I., where I grew up, the melting pot didn’t quite melt. Neighborhoods stayed neighborhoods. Federal Hill was the Italian neighborhood; the head of the New England mafia had his headquarters there, down the street from the class restaurants--the Old Canteen and my favorite, Camile’s Roman Gardens, a grand place full of statues and scenic murals, romantic private dining alcoves, and the cream of Providence’s Italian society for its clientele. I, a visitor from the town’s insular East Side, found it and all its formality very glamorous.

I’d found no place quite like it here, until I went to Carmine’s. Located in an unprepossessing little building among liquor stores and gas stations and fast-food joints, as everything is in Los Angeles, Carmine’s was the real thing--all red-velvet intimacy, corny wrought-iron fixtures, copies of the Italian masters in heavy frames along the walls, and a well-heeled clientele. I half-expected Dean Martin to walk in any moment, and from what I’d been told, he might. It was one of his haunts, and there was chicken and pasta Dino, named for him, on the menu (along with all the old classics-- zuppa di clam, veal parmigiana-- no arugula, no radicchio, no designer pizza here). Eddie, the head waiter/maitre d’, was the genuine article too, a 68-year-old Milanese with a sparkle in his eye, a 20-year veteran of the restaurant. He remembered my friend Jerry, greeting him like a long-lost relative, though it was years since Jerry had been in.

“Where’s Carmine?” Jerry asked, once we’d been seated in a cozy banquette.

“Passed away three years ago, 52 years old,” Eddie replied sadly. Then, brightening, “but his wife still owns the place.”

Had the restaurant gone downhill? There were a few empty tables tonight, not like in the old days, Jerry said. And the wine cellar was depleted--no more Chateau Bellegrave, 1966, no 1979 Pommard “Clos des Epenots,” no Burgundy or Bordeaux of a good or even fairly good year. We settled on a 1980 Brunello de Montalcino, which was good, if not spectacular. The antipasto was disappointing, too. The caponata was delicious and gutsy; the peeled, roasted pimentos and anchovies very nice--but what were those drab sliced beets doing there, that deli-counter provolone and salami, those pitted, canned black olives? I’d had a better olive in a dive on Motor Avenue the week before.

But then came dinner, and by the time we’d greedily scarfed it down and shared not two but three desserts, all the while pampered faultlessly by Eddie and his staff, we decided that, shortcomings notwithstanding, this was the finest meal we’d had together in a restaurant in Los Angeles.

Jerry’s poached whitefish in its pale, delicate sauce could not have tasted fresher if it had jumped straight from Lake Superior into the steamer. And the veal piccata was simply the best I’d ever tasted--perfectly tender veal in an also perfectly lemony buttery sauce. With our main courses was spinach, piping hot and with just the right amount of olive oil; and pasta that Jerry pronounced sublime--vermicelli for him, rigatoni for me, both in a light tomato sauce.

For dessert, the rum cake was homemade and looked that way, as if Mama had made it rather than some fancy patissier . The cake wasn’t soggy from rum, just properly flavored by it, and complemented by a middle layer of not-too-sweet imported orange preserve. The cannoli, too, probably does not have its equal in these parts. Its crumbly shell (from an Encino bakery) was the perfect receptacle for the house-made light, creamy filling, dusted prettily with pistachio. We also couldn’t resist ordering the cone-shaped tripolino --frozen zabaglione dipped in dark chocolate, a giant bonbon of a thing, nice, but outclassed by the other two desserts. Even the espresso was wonderful, without bitterness and served in a larger-than-standard demitasse.

Carmine, you can rest in peace.

Carmine’s, 10463 Santa Monica Blvd., West Los Angeles, (213) 474-3577. All major credit cards accepted. Valet parking. Full bar. Open Tuesdays-Thursdays and Sundays, 5-11 p.m.; Fridays and Saturdays, 5-11:30 p.m.; closed Mondays. Dinner for two (food only), $50-$70.