At Il Tigullio, Italian Food Served Con Brio, With an Accent Almost French

The maitre d’ greeted us suavely and with a faintly inquisitive air, but there was the suggestion of a caged panther about him.

Here he was in a little place at the corner of Pico and Robertson. He’d underscored the green and white decor with a green awning out on the sidewalk. He’d changed the name of the place from Buona Sera, which means “good evening,” to Il Tigullio, which sounds worlds more elegant, though it seems to mean “the little hut.” The maitre d’ was bursting to show that his place could do more, much more.

The bread on the table was soft, chewy focaccia , still warm from the pizza oven, and when we asked for olive oil to go with it, the waiters came back with a choice of three flavored olive oils: garlic, black pepper, herbs. There was Italian bread topped with chopped tomatoes, of course. There was also an odd Italianate puff of fried won ton skins with no name.

And as he handed over the menu, the maitre d’ emphasized that it was merely a sketch of what the kitchen can do. What would you like? Anything you want. Give us tasks, give us challenges.

This is a way of doing things that can be found in a couple of other heavy-duty Westside Italian restaurants, and though I’m always impressed by it, I find it a little intimidating. I’m hungry, and now I have to write the menu?

OK, how about saltimbocca? Of course, he said obediently. I got the feeling he was hoping it would be something harder.

It was terrific saltimbocca , in any case, with a delicious little pile of fried mushrooms on the side. The scaloppini topped with thin-sliced ham were in a strong meat glaze flavored with Marsala, so meaty it seemed a French dish with a little florid Italian touch.

That turned out to be the style of a lot of the entrees. A filet of beef in a dark wine reduction, with rosemary. A very good half chicken grilled and served in a chicken meat glaze. A special of leg of lamb (it was unusual enough for an Italian restaurant to feature lamb at all): five thin slices of lamb in wonderfully sweet and powerfully garlicky lamb meat glaze, accompanied by carrots, long beans and potato chunks.

The pastas, available in half portions, though the menu doesn’t mention this option (whatever you wish, Signore), show a lot of variety. Some are exquisitely purist, some rather wild. The penne all’ arrabbiata, for instance, was by far the hottest, pepperiest version of this dish I’ve ever had. For the Italians, as for the French, the merest dash of red pepper is usually enough to christen a dish “devilish” or “enraged,” but this is a pasta even Californians would recognize as hot.

Likewise, an off-menu special of spinach-and-ricotta ravioli in a mushroom sauce, by which they mean mass quantities of porcini. It was a feast for mushroom lovers, though it might have offended spinach and ricotta lovers, if there are any. We’d also, rather off-handedly, ordered porcini risotto-- whatever sort of risotto Signore wishes, of course--but got a seafood risotto instead. In view of the massive porcini firepower of the ravioli, it was probably just as well.

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On the other hand, there were also dishes like spaghetti alla naturale, just spaghetti with olive oil and bits of radicchio, endive and de-seeded raw tomato, very pure and light. Usually, around these parts anyway, ravioli all’ aragosta is a dish where you get not only lobster filling but a staggeringly rich sauce; you are, after all, bound to be paying a staggering price.

But in Il Tigullio’s version, the sauce was thin cream, colored with tomato paste and mixed with some finely minced shallots and sweet peppers. The effect was an exceptionally pure and elegant lobster flavor.

The appetizers are less arresting than the pastas and meat entrees, on the whole. You can get excellent tortellini floating in simple chicken broth with just a little lemon, parsley and garlic (they do offer to add Parmesan). There are calamari, fried or sauteed, a Caesar salad with plenty of Parmesan and anchovy, a version of carpaccio covered with radicchio rather than the usual Parmesan, and an impressively pure tricolore salad--endive, radicchio and leaf lettuce in three parallel strips--dashed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. It is a little pricey; about $2.16 per strip.

And desserts are no big deal. There’s a tirami su that is unusually neatly put together and which the chef apparently plays around with. One time I had it with a lemony frosting, and another time in zabaglione sauce. Other than tirami su , all I’ve ever had here was lemon cake.

In any case, this little hut is a significant contender in the Italian restaurant scene.

Suggested dishes: tortellini in brodo , $3.50; ravioli all’ aragosta , $11.95; veal scallop al piacere , $14.50; tirami su , $4.50.

Il Tigullio, 8771 W. Pico Blvd., Los Angeles. (213) 273-1166. Open for dinner daily from 6 to 10:30 p.m. Full bar. Valet parking. MasterCard and Visa accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $30 to $65.