RESTAURANT REVIEW : Gennaro’s Clientele, Decor and Cuisine Are All Dressed Up

It’s a rainy Saturday night, and we’re in the bar at Gennaro’s Ristorante in Glendale. At first, the clubby, den-like atmosphere seems cozy; there are books decorating the shelves, drinks on the coffee table, a crackling blaze in the fireplace.

But we’re squeezed on the sofa with strangers, nobody’s relieved us of our rain-dampened winter coats, and our reservations, made that afternoon and then reconfirmed less than two hours ago, have been lost. The dining room is full. More and more new arrivals keep crowding in, and most get seated ahead of us. Then, my companion, an artist in a sport jacket and a bolo tie, whispers in my ear, “I feel terribly underdressed.”

The couple seated across from us, an older man and a very young woman, look as if they’ve just come from a black-tie benefit. Checking in at the desk is an Italian matron in a red fox coat, her massive, low-slung bosom festooned with gold. And just as I decide that the muscle-bound young man by the door is really only the bouncer in a silk suit, he exclaims in conversation: “I mean, really, what’s $200,000?”

Gennaro’s is a traditional, upscale northern Italian restaurant where, if the truth be known, everything--the clientele, the decor, the food itself--is all dressed up. It’s the perfect place for the wife of a banker to wear that Chanel suit she bought for her last cruise, and for the mistress of that banker to show her cleavage, wear that diamond bracelet and be initiated into fine dining.

Owner Gennaro Rosato, who picked up much expertise and most of his staff from his years working with the Princess Lines cruise ships, has so successfully re-created an insulated, opulent international shipboard atmosphere in Glendale, that with a little imagination and a glass of the house Italian Chardonnay, one could make believe that the ocean, rather than Brand Boulevard, lies outside the door. Even the dining room walls, upholstered in a floral print fabric, are padded as if to guard against knocks on a stormy sea. Between the decor and the clientele, there’s a novel lurking here. Call it “Ship of Food.”

Finally we are seated, and it’s easy to relax. The pink plush chairs couldn’t be more comfortable; the professional, landlocked waiters couldn’t be more efficient. Menus, rolls, fresh drinks and a recitation of the night’s specials come in short order. Somehow, our waiter knows that we’ve waited more than an hour to be seated and warns us, when we order the risotto, that it takes 20 minutes. Do we have the patience left? Yes, we assure him, and vow to linger over appetizers.

The oath proves easy to keep. The fish in the salmon salad special is impeccably fresh, impeccably poached and goes fast. But there’s no rush to devour the Carpaccio ; sliced far too thickly, it’s mushy and over-garnished with vinaigrette, slabs of Parmesan and marinated mushrooms. The duck salad, a fan of breast slices on a mound of radicchio surrounded by spokes of Belgian endive, merely passes the time. And Gennaro’s minestrone is a salty, uninspired, beanless mush.

The risotto, although chewy, cheesy, buttery and dense with prized porcini , is too salty. The pastas we try are heavily sauced, the angel hair overwhelmed by plump shrimp, chunks of fish and flaps of calamary in a dense marinara. The gnocchi’s thick, rich, creamy goat cheese sauce almost succeeds in disguising a faint but persistent taste of undercooked flour in the dumplings. The tortellini in a four-cheese sauce is tasty but amazingly rich. We’re getting the hang of Gennaro’s. Here, more is more, and the more gussied up the better.

Scaloppine alla Valdostana, sauteed medallions of veal upholstered with prosciutto and fontina cheese, may not get points for low sodium and fat content, but it rates as the ultimate in pizza burgers--just delicious. The whitefish is a serious slab of impeccably prepared and lightly sauced meat and seriously excellent. The pheasant in a sweet Madeira sauce was noteworthy mostly for its abundance of porcini mushrooms, and the veal T-bone with artichokes and sage was remarkable for being huge, unwieldy and impossible to finish.

After the excess of a Gennaro meal, dessert might seem beside the point. But not when you spot that dessert cart. I found myself searching out that cart. And, yes, there was a cake on it. Made on the premises by an Italian chef, these chocolate, coconut and zabaglione layer cakes deserve all the famous cliched cake adjectives--rich, moist, light, feathery, mouthwatering, etc. The meringue cakes, a chestnut and a strawberry, are also compelling--crackly, crunchy and dense with layers of fruit, nuts and custard. The tirami su , coffee-soaked ladyfingers with a cream-based filling, is perfect.

At the end of a meal, when the crowd has thinned out and we’re chasing down cake crumbs and finishing a good, strong cappuccino, our waiter stops at our table to chat. He used to work in Beverly Hills, he tells us, but is happier here, with Gennaro and other colleagues from the Princess Lines. An amiable, efficient, guileless young man, he’s proud of the restaurant’s success, its wealthy clientele and the food. “I know all these other chefs around,” he says with disdain. “They think they need to send to Italy for all the special olive oil and vinegars and tomatoes. . . .”

I concede that Gennaro’s has made an impressive success without going to such extreme lengths. But, more to the point, I want to know about these other chefs he mentioned. What are their names? Where do they cook? How can I find them?

Gennaro’s Ristorante, 1109 N . Brand Blvd., Glendale (818) 243-6231. Open for lunch Monday-Friday, for dinner Monday-Saturday. Full bar. Valet parking. American Express, MasterCard and Visa accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $80 to $95.