Dishing Up Tradition

With its striped awning, green neon sign and a dark interior featuring black lacquered chairs and starched white tablecloths, Marino Ristorante on Melrose Avenue looks like the kind of place the cast of the film “GoodFellas” or the HBO series “The Sopranos” would frequent, which must be why Paramount execs pile in at lunch for whispered conversations over hearty plates of linguine alla vongole, manicotti and veal scaloppine.

If you’re not a regular, you may get a guarded welcome, even if the place is half-empty. The bartender is busy polishing glasses. A waiter stands in the shadows at the far end of the room. It’s as if the restaurant is in suspended animation until a member of owner Ciro Marino’s family shows up to set everything in motion. Unfortunately, now that son Sal Marino, who was both a cook and a passionate advocate of Italian wines, has opened Il Grano in West L.A., the restaurant sorely lacks the enthusiasm he, his sister Rosanna (now in the film business) and his brother Mario (now living in Italy) showed for all things Italian.

“Zagat Survey 1999” commends Marino as a northern Italian restaurant, but it’s actually a red-sauce Italian place. Originally from Naples, Ciro Marino has been in this country since 1952 and has owned this Hollywood establishment for 16 years. It features the familiar Neapolitan style of Italian cooking that the first wave of Italian immigrants introduced here. And after several recent meals at Marino, I have one piece of advice: Stick with the tomato sauce. The traditional red-sauce dishes are invariably the best things on the large menu, which is supplemented each day by a full page of specials. Marino’s crimson tomato sauce is lavished over everything with a generous--sometimes too generous--hand.

Mozzarella that is breaded, fried and buried in tomato sauce makes an appealing starter. The manicotti, fresh pasta sheets rolled around ricotta and blanketed in the same rag, are filling and good. So is the classic lasagna of layered meat rag, cheese and tomato sauce.

The pizza Margherita comes bubbling with cheese and fresh-tasting tomato sauce scented with sweet basil, its crust bready and cooked to a dark crunch on the bottom. We happily scarf up every bite. Cut six ways, one pizza is substantial enough to put a rather large dent in our appetites.

After that, fewer dishes translate well. Stracciatella, the Roman version of egg drop soup, is laced with swatches of spinach and tastes as if it was made with bouillon cubes instead of a real stock. Arugula salad would be fine if the kitchen had used a better olive oil and punched up the dressing with fresh lemon or a good vinegar. Baked fresh artichokes alla Rosanna, which are stuffed with cheese and prosciutto, are cooked to the consistency of baby food.

When it comes to mussels or linguine with clams in a sauce of white wine, garlic and olive oil, the kitchen just doesn’t have the knack. Too much garlic gives everything a sticky, stale taste, and the olive oil is ladled on with a heavy hand. I found an excess of garlic in other dishes, too. And I’m someone who loves it.

Main courses are hit and miss. When Ciro Marino accompanies the waiter to our table with our branzino al sale, a special that night of whole striped bass cooked in a salt crust, he assures us the salt does not penetrate the skin but serves to keep the flesh moist. “Taste it, signora,” he urges me, putting his hands together as if in prayer. I do. It’s a wonderfully flavorful piece of fish--moist, yes, and just lightly suffused with salt. Another special, risotto with scallops and shrimp, gets an equally extravagant presentation. Adorned with a huge scallop shell, it looks like a festive hat that Edith Head might have whipped up in her heyday. None of us at the table have ever seen a scallop this big. Smaller, in this case, might have been better because this one is a bit rubbery. The rice is lost beneath the onslaught of broth, scallops and overcooked shrimp. (The list of specials is notably devoid of prices. We find out later that the risotto is $28 and that just about everything else is more expensive than anything on the regular menu. What’s more, the bill is handwritten, making it difficult to decipher.)

From the regular menu, breaded veal scaloppine is excessively greasy. Chicken Vesuvio, hacked chicken sauteed with white wine, is dried out. And while veal rolled up with cheese and prosciutto is a nice idea, the result is far too salty.

The Marino wine list has always been a draw for wine aficionados, who come to drink Felsina Chiantis or super Tuscans such as Antinori’s reliable Tignanello; a Barbaresco from Angelo Gaja or Bruno Giacosa; or a Barolo from Luciano Sandrone or Aldo Conterno. But one night, when we peruse the list long and hard, our affable waiter can’t find two successive wines we order, which makes me wonder if the list, riddled with misspellings, is really as good as it seems or if it’s in dire need of updating. Some of the Italian whites, in particular, are looking long in the tooth. And there are disappointingly few Tuscan reds from the great 1995 vintage.

Ruffled with sweet whipped cream, desserts have the polished good looks of a commercial bakery. Tiramis, which is presented to every person celebrating a birthday (one night there are four!) as the staff sings “Happy birthday from Marino’s,” is pleasantly gooey. Pass on the gummy, excruciatingly sweet ricotta cheesecake. Consider instead the cannoli, those fat tubes of irresistible fried dough stuffed with only slightly sweetened ricotta.

After 16 years, Marino can hold its own against trendier northern Italian restaurants with its familiar taste of red-sauce Italian. Just watch out for anything without tomato sauce.

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MARION RISTORANTE

CUISINE: Italian. AMBIENCE: Dark, old-fashioned Italian restaurant with white tablecloths, good Italian wine list and veteran owner who plays up his Neapolitan roots. BEST DISHES: pizza Margherita, fried mozzarella, manicotti, lasagna, branzino in sale, cannoli. WINE PICKS: 1990 Fontodi Flaccianella, Tuscany. FACTS: 6001 Melrose Ave., Hollywood; (323) 466-8812. Lunch weekdays; dinner Monday through Saturday. Dinner appetizers, $4 to $8; main courses, $12 to $28. Corkage $10. Valet parking.