At Mangia Mangia, Patrons Are Motivated to Eat, Eat

The sound system was playing “That’s Amore” when we sat down to eat our first dinner at Mangia Mangia. Call me a curmudgeon, but that is usually a warning signal: Red sauce alert. Clear the area .

Happily, this time we got a reprieve. Chef-owner Pietro Cefalu, the gentleman you see behind the stove as you enter, is a fortysomething Sicilian, but he’s hardly your typical southern Italian chef. He has cooked in various European countries, on cruise ships and in several of Italy’s major cities. That explains why his thrown-together-looking menu of Italian favorites contains more than just occasional surprises.

Cefalu is a crackerjack sauce chef and pasta-maker. He also adds rustic touches to many of the simple dishes. In his hands, a minestrone soup based on a full-flavored vegetable stock is thick with tiny white beans and crunchy bits of celery, and sprinkled with pungent Parmesan. He makes gnocchi, those little potato dumplings which are tricky for even the best of Italian chefs, that are almost light enough to float through the ceiling.

In spite of being open for nearly seven years at a stubbornly suburban location (the intersection of Edinger Avenue and Golden West Street in Huntington Beach), Mangia Mangia is still a tough place to get into. Visit at lunch, and there is invariably a logjam of young, well-groomed office types at the door. Dinners are equally busy, mostly with local families and couples looking for a low-priced, romantic spot. You can even expect a gathering at the counter, because the restaurant does a healthy takeout trade. My last visit was a Sunday evening, and there were more than 15 names ahead of mine on the seating list. I didn’t mind the wait.

In appearance, Mangia Mangia is basic--a large, well-lighted space enclosing tables covered by faded red and white checked oilcloths, various framed photographs of panoramas up and down the Amalfi coast and an indoor awning embossed with the restaurant’s name.

The service is engaging, though, so the room begins to feel warm in short order. One evening we were ministered to by a waitress named Francesca, a real charmer from Milan who fawned over us like a mother hen, giving us admonishing stares when we left food on our plates. ( Mangia mangia means “eat, eat”--get it?)

So the next time we came hungrier, ate more heartily, and what do you think we got? Riiight . Admiring smiles from the staff.

Cefalu’s antipasti can be tempting. His calamari fritti are almost as delicate as Japanese tempura, fried in oil just hot enough to prevent the batter from soaking up an excess. You get a small crock of chunky marinara sauce for dipping, though I prefer nothing more than a squeeze of lemon and some chopped parsley.

Vitello tonnato is thinly sliced veal blanketed with a rich sauce containing tuna, capers and brandy. This may be one of the smoothest I’ve ever tasted. One complaint: It would be better with plain bread. Cefalu plies his customers with an excessively buttery garlic bread that’s definitely not Italian.

There’s more in the way of excess here. A typical pasta serving, for instance, would feed a small dance band. Take agnolotti , those diaphanous semicircular ravioli characteristic of Italy’s Piedmont region, where they are often filled with a light ragu of rabbit, veal and pork. Cefalu’s enormous agnolotti are stuffed with crab and lobster and served in an uppity French-inspired sauce Nantua that would be at home in a silver sauce boat.

Rigatoni is the foil for salsa puttanesca , a powerful Neapolitan sauce made with black olives, capers, fresh tomato and garlic (Cefalu has left out the traditional anchovies--he says this crowd doesn’t favor them). Salty, imported olives give this dish a powerful tang.

Mostaccioli arriminati is named for the resort city Rimini. It’s an eccentric blend of broccoli, pine nuts and raisins, a combination I might find daunting were it not overwhelmed by the wonderful house marinara sauce.

But the most impressive pasta here is easily the gnocchi. When they are good, they are very, very good, and when they are bad--well, you know. “Mine are all potato,” boasts the chef, and who will argue? They melt in your mouth, as does the creamy Gorgonzola sauce on them.

There’s a smattering of non-pasta entrees. Saltimbocca (literally “jump in the mouth”) consists of thinly pounded veal topped with prosciutto and a thin layer of Italian cheese, in this case Fontina. What makes it soar is Cefalu’s phenomenal brown sauce, which tastes as if the chef stood over it for days while it was reducing.

Eggplant Mangia Mangia, deliciously smoky, is also relatively free of oil, baked with good fresh tomatoes and layered with bufala mozzarella. Chicken Mangia Mangia, the only chicken dish here, resembles fajitas, but surprise ingredients such as ginger, shallots, white wine and asparagus make it far more sophisticated. Perhaps the one dish to avoid is braciola , a tired, excessively sweet steak rolled around a prosciutto, pine nut and raisin filling.

The desserts aren’t much, apart from the chef’s homemade cannoli , filled with with sweet cheese, candied cherries and chocolate bits. Pass on the drab, slightly tart tirami su , though the colorful store-bought spumoni ice cream is properly cold and creamy.

By the time you finish, the stereo should be playing Pavarotti. And here in the suburbs, as far as I’m concerned, that’s amore.

Mangia Mangia is high-end moderate. Antipasti are $4.95 to $7.95. Pastas are $7.95 to $12.95. Entrees are $11.95 to $14.95.

* MANGIA MANGIA

* 16079 Golden West St., Huntington Beach.

* (714) 841-8887.

* Open Monday through Friday, 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.; Saturday, 4 to 10 p.m., and Sunday 4 to 9 p.m.

* American Express, MasterCard and Visa.