Pasta and Pizza: Better Safe Than Sorry at Visconti

Ancestral Voices prophesy dull food. “My child,” they whisper, “when you’re out on the road, far from the Westside, order none but breakfast dishes, because it’s impossible to ruin them.” At least, according to the Ancestral Voices, it’s impossible to ruin them.

“At an Italian restaurant anywhere, even on the Westside,” they continue, “stick to the pizza and pasta. Any other entrees will disappoint you and make you feel wretched and used and something over 12 bucks light in the pocket.”

We know, of course, that these are prejudices, stereotypes, mad rumblings in the mind. There are in fact a myriad of reliable, responsible Italian main course dishes that are served at elegant Italian restaurants with finely set tables--places like Visconti, the romantic hideaway nestled in a secluded courtyard (as it shyly acknowledges itself to be) opposite Santa Monica Pier, sort of around the corner from Ivy at the Shore. It has the sound of an unusually good Italian restaurant: One chef is from a restaurant family back in Calabria, the other is the son of the president of the Italian Union of Chefs and recently worked at Ciao in San Francisco.

I guess it is romantic. Out on the courtyard is a long, awning-covered patio full of plants, and inside there are a lot of 18th- and 19th-century paintings on the walls (I’m quite fond of the one where, in the dusk of Old Istanbul, a Greek girl is examining a gold coin, or perhaps checking the manicure on her thumbnail). There’s even a grand piano.

A piano. Frankly, if I’d seen it ahead of time, I’d probably never have walked into Visconti at all. When it comes to music with my meal, I will put up with a little harp-playing, maybe, and only as long as they keep it down. The Ancestral Voices insist that any time a meal is interrupted with a medley from “Fiddler on the Roof” performed by a musician the diner can actually see, there must be something lacking in the food.

However, in an effort to conquer my stereotypes, I went ahead and ordered some non-pasta, non-pizza entrees at Visconti. Unfortunately, this time the Voices were right. The fish of the day was an impossibly dry halibut with a little dill sauce. The pollo alla cacciatora had a lot of fresh tomato flavor, even perhaps a bit too much fresh tomato flavor for the chicken’s own good, but the dish still struck me as pretty dull.

In the case of the beef filet with cream and brandy, the fault might have been in the service. Instead of our usual waiter, a guy in a pale-blue suit came and took the order, and when the dish came, we were not convinced it was precisely the same steak we had ordered. We decided it was an acceptable steak with mushrooms that might have been improved with some cream and brandy.

I was unwilling to experiment any more down this alley. Fortunately, in accordance with the stereotype, the pizzas and pastas do seem to be excellent (though I have not tried the “pizza Hawaii” with its prosciutto and pineapple topping, and I’m not going to, either, not as long as that pianist keeps noodling away at “Satin Doll”).

I’m thinking of the pizza quattro stagioni, with red pepper, prosciutto, mushrooms and olives. I’m thinking of pizza vicontessa, with its rich and funky mixture of shrimp and Gorgonzola. A simple thing like pizza alla checca, with chopped, peeled tomato, sliced garlic and lots of mozzarella is very enjoyable on this thin, semi-crisp pizza dough.

The pastas all seem enjoyable, like linguine alle vongole, made with baby clams, oil and garlic, sweet and simple. Many are richer things like fettuccine alla rustica, with cream, bacon and radicchio--rather similar to the irresistible rigatoni alla amatriciana, where the sauce was much the same, replacing the radicchio with a dash of red pepper.

The prosciutto in that last dish has a particularly ripe, aged aroma, which you can also enjoy in the antipasto plate along with some very authoritative salami (and some delicious, barely cooked broccoli, carrot and cauliflower--the chefs are said to shop at the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market). Also among the appetizers, the bresaola, with its deep, sweet, fermented taste, is about the best version of this Italian form of preserved beef I’ve ever had.

Appetizers are exempt from the Voices’ warnings, of course. Some of the other appetizers: a ramekin of barely cooked zucchini with cheese and marinara sauce, a nice tart salad of radicchio and arugula, covered with shards of grated parmesan, remarkably crisp fried calamari.

There aren’t many desserts, but they are full of surprises, apart from the giant ice cream bonbons called tartufi. The “strawberry cake” actually turned out to be a sponge cake with a lot of orange on it, and the tirami su, usually made of sponge cake with cream and stuff, turned out to be a cheesecake with a strong caramel flavor.

I think enough evidence is in. Heed, at least in this instance, the Ancestral Voices. I can say no more.

Visconti, 1541 Ocean Ave., Santa Monica. (213) 395-9101. Open for lunch and dinner daily. Wine and beer. Validated parking in basement lot. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $35 to $60.