RESTAURANT REVIEW : Why Not ‘Perche No?’ Some Hot Summer’s Night?

One of the things I want, now that it’s summer and my appetite is dulled by heat until well after the sun has set, is a light, refreshing dinner--say a salad and a pasta, or fresh seafood. I’ve kept an eye out, then, for a northern Italian restaurant, one preferably with outside dining, and I’ve found such an establishment in Perche No? on Ventura Boulevard in Encino.

Perche No? is one of those comfortable white-walled, wooden-chaired bistros, long ubiquitous in Europe and now nearly so in California. Perche No? paves its white brick walls with art, plays upbeat Italian pop songs over the speaker. The patio, which is raised off the street and lined with flower boxes, offers a particularly pleasant view of Ventura Boulevard, and La Bella Lingua can be heard in the kitchen. Our fellow diners seem an informal, easygoing group who, like us, are here for good food and conversation with friends in a comfortable, relaxed European atmosphere.

Because Perche No? has only been open for two months, business fluctuates, which directly affects the quality of the service. Tuesday evening is dead; the lone waiter stands at the patio railing, gazing out at the boulevard intently, as if willing customers to appear. Thursday about 8:30 p.m., there’s a rush; the waiter and one of the owners are at a dead run, and we customers endure long spells between courses. But Saturday night, the place is nearly full, fully staffed, and runs like clockwork, which indicates that the ideal state for this restaurant is busy. And indeed, it deserves to be.

The owners, Giovanni and Giancarlo, from Rome and Palermo, respectively, like to say their cooking is northern Italian with a southern accent. The menu is as familiar these days as fresh pasta in the supermarket deli case: appetizers of carpaccio, buffalo mozzarella, a wide range of pastas, veal and chicken entrees, and pizza. These standbys are augmented by daily specials, and we’re seduced by the likes of cioppino, lamb Dijonnaise, salmon and scallop carpaccio. And why not? (Or rather, perche no ?) Ordering specials is sound dining practice for several reasons: They often feature seasonal ingredients, and they’re what a chef creates to keep not only us, but himself, from getting bored.

That’s not to say, of course, one should spurn the insalata mista or the angel hair pasta with fresh tomato, garlic and basil, or grilled wild mushrooms simply because they’re on the menu; freshness, as such, isn’t much of an issue here.

In fact, everything we order is at the very least, acceptable. My companion dubs the scampi appetizer, big fresh shrimp with spicy chopped tomatoes, the best scampi she’s ever had. Natural-born quibbler that I am, I have to say that my salmon carpaccio is cut too thickly and served with more lemon than I like, and the prosciutto, served with perfect, ripe cantaloupe, is cut sooo thinly it dries out between the kitchen and my table.

Faultless Dish

A bucatini carbonara, however, is faultless--a find in an era when too many restaurants gussy up the classic dish with cream; these fat spaghetti-length tubes are rich with egg yolk and Parmesan and highlighted with many small flags of good, chewy pancetta.

The pesto pizza, according to the menu, comes with goat cheese, which both my companion and I have a weakness for. When the pie appears, however, there’s no such substance on it. The night’s one uncomfortable moment comes when one of the owners, who recommended the pizza, stops by to see how we like it. We say it’s a fine pizza--great pesto--but that we miss the goat cheese. He squints at the pizza and points to the ricotta. “That’s ricotta,” we say. He tells us that the ricotta is made from goat’s milk. When we express skepticism, he then says that chevre made the pizza too salty and has been dropped from the recipe. We’re here for dinner, not debate, and besides, the pizza’s good, so the conversation closes with mutual shrugs--body language for “you can fool some of the people most of the time.” True as that old maxim is, I would have felt better had another old truth been acknowledged, namely that restaurant customers, like other consumers, should get what they order.

The kitchen was certainly not too concerned with saltiness when it came to the cioppino, an attractive, evocative stew of clams, scallops, mussels and squid that’s served in a saucepan and makes us feel like we’re at the Mediterranean seashore. We wish we’d asked for the tuna rare; the good-sized fresh tuna steak comes well-done under a delicious fresh tomato sauce. We’re satisfied with the veal chop in an artichoke sauce. And the lamb Dijonnaise, a tasty tenderloin on a bed of sauteed arugula with a light mustard sauce is earthy and delectable, certainly the most memorable of the entrees we try.

Except for a dense, cheesy, not-too-sweet, wonderful homemade cheesecake, desserts are not exceptional. A tirami su is 90% whipped cream with only the thinnest layers of the thinnest espresso-soaked ladyfingers. A cannoli is a decent standard cannoli , a chocolate-raspberry cake light but uninspiring. Coffees, from the pot or espresso machine, are worth lingering over. In fact, in true European form, one is expected to linger here on the avenue: A check isn’t brought until it’s requested.

Had we wanted haute cuisine , a hip scene, or drop-dead elegance, we’d surely be elsewhere on Ventura Boulevard. But for good, fresh food on a hot summer night, affordable prices, a great perspective of the city lights, and a relaxing European atmosphere, we’re happy with Perche No? This restaurant manages to be something that I have often given up hope of ever finding on Ventura Boulevard, or anyplace else: It’s very good without getting all fancy about it.

Perche No?, 16606 Ventura Blvd., Encino, (818) 783-2920. Open Monday-Friday for lunch; dinner daily. Valet parking on weekends only. Beer and wine only. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $25 to $65.