RESTAURANT REVIEW : Il Boccaccio: Three Tales Are Enough

Giovanni Boccaccio was a 14th-Century poet who wrote “The Decameron” in which seven ladies and three men, hiding out from a devastating plague, each tell a story apiece for 10 days. A handful of these tales recall a memorable witticism or a long-suffering love duly rewarded, but most tell of raucous sexual misadventures: Wives tuck their lovers in closets or hen coops when husbands arrive home unexpectedly. Nuns and priests cavort naughtily. Men and women alike slip into the wrong beds, seduce one another in disguise.

Such ribaldry is not quite so apparent at the author’s namesake restaurant, Il Boccaccio in Hermosa Beach--even the down-scaled Michelangelo’s David sports modest boxer shorts.

Il Boccaccio is an old restaurant with new owners, Joe Venezia and Carla Ugolini, who met when he was the chef at Santa Monica’s I Cugini and she ran the front of the house. Now married, they purchased and reopened this buca or “cubbyhole” featuring northern Italian food with an emphasis on risotto and seafood.

The old restaurant does not, however, have a new look. Dark, knobby wooden chairs and wainscoting are dated , depressing. Chandeliers are black wrought iron. Stained glass panels depict coats-of-arms. Copper pans swing over the open kitchen. One expects boeuf a la bourguignonne , coq au vin , steak tartare and aging swains wining and dining their sulking mistresses. Indeed, older couples do come here, but the Venezias’ cooking and lively spirits have also attracted a younger local crowd. I myself have three regrettably chaste tales of Il Bocaccio.

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T he first visit to Il Boccaccio is a tale of diffident service and some memorable dishes, but the meal does not end happily.

At $9, two grilled shiitake mushrooms should tip us into bliss, but they’re a little too tough and dry. More transporting is a lemony Belgian endive salad studded with sweet, slippery chunks of blood orange. Also tempting are chard-filled ravioli tossed in brown butter and sage. A special, roasted duck, has moist, supple dark meat and a dull sauce with grapes. Rack of lamb, requested medium rare, is well done and fatty. But the bad ending comes from inedible profiteroles with tough pastry and refrigerant-scented cream and chocolate sauce.

A second visit to Il Boccaccio yields another tale of varied foods, but this time there are loud neighbors and neglectful service.

We’re quite taken with cannellini beans topped with three tender, flavorful shrimp. A plate of prosciutto and lovely crisped polenta is marred by strangely sweet baby artichokes. Bucatini all’ amatriciana is acidic, too tomatoe-y, average. The grilled chicken, with its perfect crackly skin and juicy meat is oversalted.

Midway through our entrees we lose our waiter to a boisterous, demanding table of six. As he opens their wines and consults endlessly on their dinner orders, our drinks run dry, our plates aren’t cleared, no back-up staff offers us coffee or dessert and, finally, it’s just a tedious wait for the bill.

A third visit is distinguished by a charming Italian waiter whose behavior still falls short of magnificent; the food provides some delight, some disappointment, and quite a happy ending. Plus, we meet a flounder.

We start this dinner by falling for our laughing, spirited waiter. Next, appetites are piqued with a creamy risotto topped with mild, sauteed chicken livers. Less enticing is a special bucatini, this one topped with fresh sardines and a murky sauce made of pungent whiskery fennel tops, pine nuts and raisins.

Pork chops braised in milk are tender and tasty; prime rib chop is medium rare, as requested, and delicious. Fresh brill is a fluffy white fish served on good soft polenta with butter, lemon, and walnuts for crunch.

The happy ending is due partly to wine-poached pears and partly to a dense, bittersweet chocolate pudding that attracts all spoons like a magnet.

Leaving, we peer in a cold case at raw chops and stiff, dead fish. I spot the brill, a proverbially flat flounder with side-by-side eyes. I’m glad to meet him after I already ate his brother: They’re far more comely disguised in herbs and butter.

* Il Boccaccio, 39 Pier Ave., Hermosa Beach. (310) 376-0211. Open nightly for dinner. Full bar. Major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $27-$80.