RESTAURANTS : Locanda Veneta--Good Enough to Blab About : A Safe Haven Full of Simple Charms : Locanda

Locanda Veneta, 8638 W. 3rd St., Los Angeles. (213) 274-1893. Open for lunch Monday-Friday, for dinner Monday-Saturday. Beer and wine. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $35-$60.

Every once in a while somebody will try to bribe me into not writing about a favorite restaurant. But this is the first time that the Reluctant Gourmet has ever stooped so low.

The theory is that once the restaurant’s discovered, it will be ruined. “Don’t write about Locanda Veneta,” the RG said not long ago, “and I promise not to watch a single baseball game this weekend.” It was, I admit, tempting. Still, one has one’s ethics.

“What do you like so much about it?” I hedged, wondering if I might be able to cut some sort of a deal. This is not, you should understand, the natural habitat of the RG. It bears no resemblance to either Musso’s or McDonald’s, and it does not serve the sort of meat and potato fare he normally considers his due. It doesn’t even serve hard drinks. His affection for the place was puzzling. “I guess you have to be there,” he said slyly. “Why don’t you take me to dinner?”

“Notice,” he said, as we walked in the door, “the lack of a line.” It was true. We had reserved for dinner at 8, it was 8 o’clock, and there was our table. In fact, Locanda makes it a point not to overbook. Says co-owner Jean Louis Di Mori, “People get so angry when they have to wait. And it’s hard when people are angry and hungry at the same time.” Spoken in his soft French accent, the two words sound exactly the same.

“Note too,” said the RG, pointing around the room, “how comfortable it is. You can really hunker down and have a conversation here.” Personally I would have said it was a little frou-frou for his taste, what with the brightly printed cushions and all, but who am I to question his aesthetics? As far as I’m concerned, it’s an unpretentious and cozy little room, the sort of place that feels like a safe haven. Still, I couldn’t resist pointing out that I was leaning against an unpainted wall. The RG was unmoved. “A few minor renovations,” he said dismissively.

Then he sat down to a serious study of the menu. “I like the fact that it’s not too long,” he said, “you don’t have to read it forever.” “And I really like this carpaccio. “

Of course he did--a plate of raw meat is just the thing for the RG. This was one of those paper-thin slices of beef topped with capers, arugula and nice shavings of cheese. “I like the price too,” he said, noting the generally low prices of the menu. Next he started to extoll the virtues of bresaola, the air-dried beef of Italy, which comes fanned out on a plate in thin rosy slices and is topped with artichoke hearts and lemon.

The next thing to appear was what looked like a golden heap of wood shavings piled onto a plate with a puddle of onions on the side. “Ah,” said the RG, “my favorite.” He popped one of the tiny golden things into his mouth and followed it with some of the onion. “Wonderful!” he cried. “These are French fries with gusto!” In fact, they are more like French fries with eyes--tiny fish that have been fried to a crispy turn. Served with a confit of onions that has the slight bite of vinegar, they are totally addictive.

A big bowl of manila clams arrived next. “Another appetizer?” I asked. “Well, you do want to know what I like about the place,” said the RG, popping one of them into his mouth and following it with a bit of bread that had been dipped into the rich tomato sauce in which the mollusks had been cooked. “Aren’t these wonderful?” They were.

“And now,” said the RG, “for some pasta.” He ordered fettuccine in a very rich meat sauce. I thought there was too much sauce on the pasta. He thought it was perfect. Meanwhile, I had tortelloni gently stuffed with ricotta in a very light asparagus sauce. “Pretty good, huh?” he said. I had to agree.

When the RG ordered dessert, I was surprised. It was a rich custard topped with soft caramel, and the next best thing to creme brulee. But I had expected him to eat more. “What about this veal chop?” I asked. “How about a rack of lamb?”

“Oh,” he replied, “I’m saving those for next time. I intend to come here often. So, do we have a deal?”

I had to tell him we did not; I could understand why he liked Locanda, but I still intended to write about it.

So over the next few weeks he ostentatiously watched not only baseball but every sport on television--he even stooped to watching golf. And I ate a lot of meals at Locanda Veneta.

I discovered that it is the sort of place that grows on you, a nice little neighborhood restaurant that makes you wish you lived around the corner. The menu may be small and fairly simple, but the salads are good and the entrees--a fat veal chop, veal scallopine, various kinds of grilled fish--are all simple and fine. The pasta is tasty. Penne in spicy tomato sauce has a lot of spice; pasta with garlic and tomatoes has a lot of garlic. Gnocchi are light. And the risotto is a treat.

Chef/owner Antonio Tomassi (he last worked at Chianti and Chianti Cucina) comes from the Veneto, and he makes his risotto in the Venetian style, which means that it is left all’onda (wavy), with a bit more liquid than the way they make it farther west. This gives it a different consistency than risotto alla milanese; it is not quite so dense or compact. And it makes it the perfect vehicle for the velvety slices of porcini mushrooms that Tomassi is presently stirring into the rice. The waiter will offer cheese when he serves the dish, but I suggest that you try it in its naked state. The taste of the cheese overwhelms the gentle flavor of the mushrooms, and its dryness masks the subtle texture of the risotto.

“You know this is the last time you’re going to get to taste that dish,” the RG warned me the last time that we ate at Locanda Veneta. “We’ll never be able to get in here again.”

He looked lugubriously around the room as if he were bidding farewell to a favorite friend. He had a salad. He had some pasta. He stirred some sugar into his espresso. “Why is it,” he queried grumpily, “that just when I find a restaurant I really like you have to go and tell the world about it?”

Recommended dishes: fried whitebait with onion confit, $6.25; tortelloni, $9.50; spicy tomato penne, $7.50; risotto, $10; veal chop, $15.95. Creme caramel, $3.50.