A PEEK AT THE PAST THAT IS FADING FAST

Romeo and Juliet, 435 N. Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills, (213) 273-2292. Open for lunch Monday-Friday, for dinner Monday-Saturday. MasterCard, Visa, American Express. Full bar. Valet parking at night. Dinner for two, food only, $42-$80.

“Put away that menu,” commands Nicky de Chiara, hovering over the table like a nervous butterfly. “Nobody needs a menu in my restaurant. Tell me what you want to eat.”

De Chiara comes from a long line of restaurateurs. His family opened Chianti almost 50 years ago. They opened Romeo Salta in New York. Then Orlando Figini, the legendary Los Angeles restaurateur (he opened La Rue in the ‘40s), adopted him as a grandson. So when De Chiara and his cousin Vito Sasso opened Romeo and Juliet five years ago, they had a lot to live up to.

Things didn’t quite work out. Nicky went home to Mama and her restaurant in Bologna, and Romeo and Juliet went downhill. But now Nicky has returned, and he wants the rest of us to do the same.

The restaurant has been repainted; pinks and purples have become white. Windows have been thrown open, all the stiffness of the past has been softened. But De Chiara and his cousin still have their hearts in the sort of service that was fashionable in the ‘50s. Nicky is everywhere, making suggestions, offering appetizers, making sure your glass is filled. Cousin Vito likes to walk around and press your shoulder, look soulfully into your eyes and ask how everything is. “I think they think I’m someone else,” said a friend I met there for lunch one day. “While I was waiting for you they couldn’t do enough for me. Who do you think they think I am?”

They probably didn’t think he was anybody; this may be one of the last restaurants in Los Angeles whose owners truly seem dedicated to making you comfortable. Despite the newly white walls, Romeo and Juliet is a little peek into a Los Angeles that is fading fast. It’s a place for stars to come and work the room, for men to smoke big cigars, for waiters to stand at your table, wire whisk whooshing against copper bowl, making zabaglione just for you. It is a place where the maitre d’ picks up a microphone at 10 o’clock and suddenly serenades the room.

And the food? In all honesty I wanted to love it. Especially when, on my last visit, Nicky suddenly recognized me, realized that four of us had been stuffed into a booth that was a little too little (the room is small and crowding can be a problem here), and began anxiously trying to look cheerful. But despite the fact that I let him do the ordering, the food was never memorable.

Pastas are traditional and good. They do a fine version of linguine with white clam sauce, the clams fresh, the sauce neither too salty nor too garlicky. The agnolotti, lightly filled with a mixture of ricotta and spinach in a rich creamy sauce, are quite delightful. Vermicelli topped with fresh, cold tomato and basil sauce, is also fine. But the risotto Nicky insisted we try was both salty and overcooked.

The secondi piatti all arrived on plates heavily festooned with enormous amounts of food. Lamb--good lamb--was squeezed onto a plate with overcooked vegetables and very fried parsley. A tough but tasty Porterhouse steak had been rubbed with herbs before grilling so that it was filled with flavor; it was served with white beans on the side and lots of vegetables. A mixed grill--shrimp, whitefish, scallops--was uniformly overcooked and tasted more like grill than fish. A veal chop was cooked to near inedibility.

Desserts are also big and baroque. Whipped cream and fruits are used liberally. Even cheesecake comes sitting on a pedestal of genoise with enough fruit on top to please Carmen Miranda. There’s a big Black Forest cake and a decorative fruit tart. And of course there’s zabaglione.

At lunchtime the restaurant seems quite different. Prices are lower--remarkably low, actually, for a restaurant with this sort of quiet, careful service. To begin there is a table filled with antipasti like stuffed zucchini blossoms and marinated peppers and wonderful cold pizza topped with escarole and pine-nuts, a bargain as a starter at $4.50. There are warm pizzas, and sandwiches made of focaccia filled with beef or fish or even barbecued chicken. There are salads and pastas. And there is a bargain three-course fixed-price menu at $12 that makes dinner unnecessary. It is a good place to come for a relaxed lunch.

But they only gather around the piano to sing at night. And the singing is a treat. One night the maitre d’ sang--what else--”I Left My Heart in San Francisco,” and then Danny Thomas’ wife, Rose Marie, got up at the microphone and, accompanied by the pianist and the singing maitre d’, she too began to croon. Outside the open windows people gathered to listen. They slowly drifted into the bar. It was all cozy and friendly and a little bit hokey. It was a scene straight out of the past--sort of like the restaurant.