RESTAURANT REVIEW / LA CAPANNINA : Venetian Finds : The menu includes a myriad of pastas, grilled fish and a few southern Italian standards.

Enter La Capannina de Santa Barbara and quickly note: This looks like a family operation. Nothing corporate. Nothing configured with design consultants, nothing thematic or studied.

Yet things are trim, neatly turned out in warm brick and creamy plaster, and clean and reassuring. You are, after all, in an old house a few blocks in from the ocean. The prepossessing entrance--a modest bar to the right, two dining rooms connected by glassless arched windows off to the left--is its own warm statement of 7328welcome.

First, meet Pino. Pino Gaudino, a Neopolitan who has lived in Scotland, will greet you and seat you. Later, he will sing to you. That grand piano claiming valuable table space in the main dining room will be played by his partner, exuberant owner Emedia Grico, who also will sing to you and accompany Pino, who plays guitar.

The fear reflex is understandable. Is this place about food or entertainment? The two so rarely work together.

But as quickly as you are seated, a new statement is made. A complimentary antipasti arrives with the menus, and it’s sparkling: fresh-roasted red and yellow peppers, vinegar-spiked eggplant, a mini bruscetta redolent with basil and garlic.

As frontal as the music will be, so, too, will be the culinary fare. La Capannina, it is quickly made plain, is serious about food.

Enter Francisco Checco Solda, the chef and backbone of the place. He’s Venetian, and it’s written all over his menu. Sea bass every which way--though usually with a light, herbaceous, grilled approach--and sometimes even ground and seasoned and stuffed into ravioli set adrift in a puddle of intensely fragrant tomato sauce. Ditto for lobster and langoustine.

Still, the bent of the cuisine is broadly northern. Not surprisingly, the menu embraces myriad pastas, among them authentic and deeply satisfying gnocci and risotto, as well as grilled meats.

Delightful in their oddness are a few southern Italian standards, such as a brazen pollo pizzaiola, which quite possibly is a homey nod to Pino’s roots. La Capannina has no pretensions, a fact also seen in the prices. They are amazingly low for the quality and neighborhood, although a few exceptions will be noted.

Recent visits showed Solda’s hand to be sure at the grill. Fragile fish was always delicate, and nothing was less than inspired--even memorable--with pasta.

Yet there were failures here and there. One was a rather expensive mystery involving a lobster’s missing claws. Still, the all-around enjoyment of the place went unthreatened by what might be considered mishaps in a kitchen that, in only its seventh week of operation, is still cutting its (veal) chops.

Appetizers got high marks. Bresaola ($5.95), the Lombard specialty in which whole filet of beef is cured in salt and air-dried, was sweet and elegant. Sliced thin as paper, it was as delicate as prosciutto, its density offset by sharp rugola and fresh lemon.

Carpaccio ($7.95), or raw filet, was nearly as good, accompanied by artichoke, Parmesan and lemon. Crespelle di salmone, or salmon crepes ($6.95), were decadent in combining the edged flavor of smoky fish with a creamy sauce. Less successful, however, was calamari Affogati ($5.95), or squid in spicy tomato sauce. The squid were less than fresh and, sadly, tough from overcooking. And pasta fagioli ($4.50), the classic bean and noodle soup, was marred by a strong margarine flavor that not even a leaf of fresh sage could fight back.

La Capannina’s pastas--taken as a shared appetizer or a first or main course--are extraordinary. Ravioli bronzino ($11.95 as a main course) were so memorable as to haunt: fresh sea bass ground with spices, sealed in fresh pasta pockets and lightly boiled, and then set upon a chunky, textured tomato sauce spiked with cayenne and fresh herbs. All that, and a delicate sea-bright fish flavor still managed to pierce through.

Riso porcini ($8.95) was another astonishment: a mushroom risotto, or arborio rice, laboriously stirred to a heady, woodsy-flavored and cream-textured perfection at an unthinkably low price.

Gnocci with Gorgonzola ($8.95) defied the odds, as well: air-light pillows of dough (smart money calls them eggless), tossed in a shamelessly pungent, briny sauce of cream, butter, and melted moldy cheese. Any of these and a glass of wine will get you to gustatory heaven.

Entrees went both ways. Bronzino al forno ($12.95), or sea bass served with olive oil sauce and fresh spinach, was delightful: light, sweet, protected from overcooking and fragrant. Gamberoni ($13.95), or grilled fresh langoustines served with olive oil sauce and garlic, showed the same expert handling at the grill. They were gently cooked, happily underdone just a tad, and as moist and delicate as any crustacean can be, if somewhat dull and metallic in the flavor department.

Nodino di vitella buro and salvia ($13.95) was to sate the meat-eater at our table. And what could hold more promise than a fat veal chop sauteed in butter and fresh sage and served with spinach? The result, unfortunately, was troublesome: An expertly grilled chop--seared outside, slightly pink inside--was not thick and lean but instead thin and fatty. It was delivered swimming in the grease of the pan. In the place of spinach was stout broccoli rabe.

Most troublesome of all, however, was the aragosta Capannina, or lobster done in the house style (open-grilled with fresh herbs and olive oil). It was offered only when available fresh, and priced accordingly. Ours was $21, roughly twice the cost of most other items, but initially considered worth it if up to the standards of everything else on the menu.

It arrived cloaked in colorful herbs and neatly split for easy eating--a beautiful sight. Missing? The claws. The result was a tender, sweet, lone tail that, on this tiny lobster (1.25 pounds at most when crawling) left hunger pangs to accompany the frustration. It is to be avoided without a clear understanding up front about size and amputation.

Salads are quite ordinary. Tricolore ($4.50) has radicchio, endive and rugola dressed too heavily in a lovely vinaigrette. It’s all chopped and then set into three piles for the serial eater. Mista con formaggio ($5.95) was the best of the leaf salads but suffered from its most critical component, a particularly dull Parmesan that could, for more money and fewer pieces, be replaced by Reggiano. Insalata Caprese ($5.95) featured deeply flavored, tender mozzarella atop winter’s less-than-ready tomatoes; it was saved, however, by perfect leaves of fresh basil.

Desserts (all ($2.95) are nothing to plan your meal around. A crumbly style “dry” cheesecake was just that, without enough flavor to carry off its audacious texture. Tiramisu suffered the consistency of glue and the oppressive sweetness of a drugstore sundae.

La Capannina’s wine list--brief, well-chosen, priced right--is a good match for its direct fare. There’s a sunny, crisp Gavi ($21), married perfectly with seafood and pastas. At the bargain price of $19, the satisfaction of a medium-bodied, chocolaty 1989 Dolcetta d’Alba was hardly challenged by its slight vegetative edge.

La Capannina is new and showing some flaws. But it is doing much that is right. A fair amount is truly memorable for prices that are low. Add to that the warmth and humor of its proprietors, and it is worth the ride to Santa Barbara.

* WHERE AND WHEN

La Capannina di Santa Barbara Ristorante, 302 W. Montecito St., Santa Barbara, 962-6366. Open seven days for lunch 11 a.m.-2:30 p.m., for dinner from 6 p.m. until well past 10 p.m., as crowd dictates. Bar, wine list, major credit cards accepted, reservations accepted.