Friday Show Outshines the Food at Via Veneto

One unvarying rule has been observed in this column since its birth six years ago: For a restaurant to receive a favorable review, it must serve good food.

This has always seemed a natural criterion, and an essential foundation for a restaurant column.

Thank heaven, then, that rules exist to be broken.

Via Veneto, were it judged solely on the basis of its cooking, would fall into a kind of neutral zone, a shadowy Never Never Land populated by restaurants that have been diagnosed as having serious cases of the blands. None of the dishes sampled in the course of two visits was really bad, but neither were the dishes prepared well enough to warrant suggesting that a trip to this India Street spaghetti joint would be worth the effort.

Friday nights are this restaurant’s salvation. Patrons begin arriving at 7 p.m. or earlier to grab ringside seats for what has to be one of the liveliest, if least-structured or formal, cabarets in town. On these special evenings, the place turns into a big Italian family party, with voices raised in song, freely flowing wine, and the promise that there always is more manicotti in the kitchen.

Friday night at Via Veneto is opera night, and nearly everybody gets into the act. Just before the music starts, the master of ceremonies steps to the microphone and introduces the evening’s cast, which includes himself, a few “guest artists,” the hostess and several waitresses and, on occasion, the neighborhood priest.

Any patron who feels the urge to step up and belt out a little Puccini or Rossini is invited to do so, and because reticence does not seem an attribute shared by many Via Veneto patrons, quite a few take their turns in the spotlight. The pianist and drummer seem to have all the requisite music at their fingertips.

The singing is generally good and is not limited to grand opera. The hostess brought a breath of the Champs Elysees to Via Veneto when she offered a selection of Edith Piaf standards, and she did them so well that the great chanteuse herself would have applauded.

Via Veneto would seem the natural heir to Mario’s, the defunct Pacific Highway home of the opera-singing servers who dished up fettuccine verdi and Giuseppe Verdi with equal aplomb. But Mario’s, as casual as it was, would seem as stiff and rigid as the Savoy Grill if compared to Via Veneto. Here, an on-stage table is occupied by insiders, some of whom appear to be cronies or relatives of the master of ceremonies, and the effect is somewhat the same as that produced by the family members who sit on the stage during performances at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville.

Recently, a little girl who sat at this table repeatedly stole the show when she rose to dance and frolic to the singing.

In terms of decor, Via Veneto has a decidedly funky, homespun look. One wall is painted in a rather awful imitation of the Colosseum. Plants hang from a crazy network of ropes, carnations faint in the wine bottles that substitute for vases, and a raised seating area built of unpainted wood stands as silent testimony to someone’s high school shop classes. For some reason, though, this lack of style just seems to add to the fun.

If music fuels the evening, the menu at least provides moral support. The food certainly has sustaining qualities because it is served in quantity and can unquestionably be called hearty. Great cuisine, however, it is not.

The menu actually takes a most ambitious stance and offers to take diners on a culinary tour of Italy’s numerous provinces. About half of that country’s historic political divisions are represented by one or more dishes, and this would be quite a menu were the kitchen up to snuff. As things stand, though, the happiest guest will be he who wisely opts for caution and orders something simple and safe, such as lasagna, chicken cacciatore or spaghetti with meat balls.

Should the temptation to order a plate of antipasto strike, resist it. These bountiful salads are laden with attractive garnishes and prettily arranged, but the flavors fail to come through, partly because of an overbearing dressing that differs from the classic olive oil and vinegar combination. The bites of octopus have their interest, and the tiny--no bigger than a thumbnail--squid can be a treat, but overall, this rather costly offering is well worth skipping.

The kitchen relies on three basic sauces--meat sauce, meatless tomato sauce, and a white sauce--for most dishes, and adds an ingredient or two whenever necessary to give a dish a regional flavor. Thus the basic marinara sauce, or meatless tomato sauce, is spiked with a bit of pancetta (cured belly bacon) for the spaghetti all’Amatriciana, and with wine or other seasonings for other dishes. The Amatriciana, by the way, is a special type of dish that really requires a sauce made from scratch; Via Veneto’s version does not come close to making the grade.

Spaghetti with clam sauce proved adequate, a comment that can be applied with equal correctness to the homemade, cheese-stuffed ravioli in marinara sauce. The eggplant parmigiana was something of a surprise, though. Because this is both such a simple dish and such a staple of American Italian restaurants, one has come to expect a fairly well-done version. Served bubbling in a small gratin dish, Via Veneto’s rendition looked appealing, and it had an excellent “nose,” thanks to the fennel-spiked sausage that perfumed the tomato sauce. A thick blanket of mozzarella cheese covered the dish and kept it boiling hot. Unfortunately, the eggplant had been cooked to the point that it almost disappeared into the sauce, and it was difficult to decide where the cheese stopped and the eggplant began.

What may be this restaurant’s brightest culinary moment arrives at the end of the meal, when the server presents a tray of homemade pastries. The house makes good espresso and cappuccino as dessert accompaniments.

By the way, one of Via Veneto’s owners is named David Nelson. He is not related to this writer.

VIA VENETO

1745 India St., San Diego

233-6306

Dinner served 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. Wednesday through Sunday; closed Monday and Tuesday.

Credit cards accepted.

Dinner for two, with a modest bottle of wine, tax and tip, $25 to $45.