A quick trip to Tuscany

WHEN Toscana opened in 1989, who could have predicted that Tuscany, the region in central Italy, would become such a star?

Beverly Hills and Napa Valley are sprinkled with “Tuscan villas.” Bistecca fiorentina and pollo al mattone, both classic Tuscan dishes, rule on Southern California’s Italian menus. Top level Chianti Classico and super-Tuscans are as much at home on wine lists at French or California restaurants as at Italian ones. And the word “Tuscany” now conveys not only a region but also a lifestyle.

Toscana, too, has had a remarkable 13-year run. I don’t think it has the best Italian food, or even the best Tuscan food, in L.A., yet loyal fans continue to fill the tiny spot night after night. One thing it has going for it is its looks. Urban and contemporary, it has an edgy big-city Italian style that has worn remarkably well. The Italian beaded hanging lampshades, the inspiration for countless schlocky knockoffs, are as beautiful as ever, warming up the stark white space with their golden glow.

To the right, as you walk in the door, is a heart-stopping display of desserts. And beyond that, there’s a long marble counter that functions as a sort of neighborhood regulars’ table. From here, you can keep an eye on the pizzas and steaks as the cooks slide them into the handsome wood-burning oven. But the center of the action is the long country table in the middle of the room, which functions as maitre d’s desk and waiters’ station.

Toscana is a well-oiled machine. It’s fascinating to sit at the table just vacated by Julie Andrews and watch the waiters and support staff, who seem to number in the dozens, clear a table in a flash, unfurl a clean tablecloth and fling on plates and silverware moments before the suave maitre d’ ushers the next guests in that direction. Toscana’s Italian waiters can lay on the schtick. Some nights, it can seem like a kiss fest at the door as wave after wave of diners walk in chirping “Ciao.”

Recently, after a few checkup visits, I wondered again whether Toscana’s runaway success is due more to the way the staff coddles the guests than to the food. Because, even at its best, it’s not all that inspiring. It’s not even all that Tuscan. For example, the ribollita, the traditional rustic soup “reboiled” with a piece of stale bread to thicken it, doesn’t even have any bread. (Though it now sports some swatches of cavolo nero, or Tuscan black cabbage, along with the beans and vegetables.)

The founding chef, Agostino Sciandri, who has since left to open Ago in West Hollywood, took Toscana’s popular pollo al mattone and spun it off into a chain of take-out rosticcerias called Rosti. Toscana’s version is still pretty good, served with little roasted potatoes and what tastes like completely unseasoned frozen leaf spinach. But where are such classic Tuscan dishes as chicken liver crostini, or, in summer, panzanella, the refreshing salad of bread, tomatoes, cucumbers and basil?

Aside from bistecca fiorentina, Tuscan touches are token. But the bistecca, a thick slab of steak finished in the wood-burning oven, is consistently one of the best dishes on the menu (still, certainly not one of the best steaks in town).

Why, I wonder, when everyone comes back from Italy raving about the food, do restaurateurs here shy away from the real thing? One reason may be that Tuscan cuisine is so plain, there’s no way to disguise the quality of the ingredients. Though the kitchen has regained ground under chef Piero Topputo, even something as simple as pasta fagioli, the cannellini bean and pasta soup, needs a swirl of peppery Tuscan extra-virgin olive oil to make the flavors sing. The complimentary pinzimonio -- crudely cut raw vegetables -- to dip in olive oil needs better than the pallid olive oil offered here (and it’s swirled with cheap balsamic vinegar, something you’d never see in Tuscany).

Every table at Toscana also gets a complimentary plate of plain thin-crusted pizza bread perfumed with rosemary. Hot from the oven, it’s a treat. Pizzas from the wood-burning oven are generously sized and very Italian. Best bets are the Margherita and the quattro stagione, the “four seasons” pizza traditionally divided into four quarters, each with a different topping. Here, though, the artichokes, olives, cooked ham and other ingredients are strewn throughout.

Raw artichokes, thinly shaved and dressed in olive oil and lemon with a shaving of Parmesan is another fine starter. A seafood salad, though, is a medley of shrimp and calamari that taste as anonymous as something from the frozen food case.

Pasta dishes tend to be workmanlike and filling, but not ravishing enough to lure you onto the next plane to Italy. The kitchen does a nice job with spaghetti alle vongole made with tiny clams in the shell, though, and trenette al pesto, flat noodles in a classic Genovese pesto. Penne in a rustic sauce of anchovies, olives, capers and garlic is generally a good bet too. But spaghetti with calamari features tasteless squid and an oily sauce. The best of the risotto dishes is that made with a mix of domestic and wild mushrooms. They’ll make one with truffles too, but before you sign on, make sure it’s clear which kind of truffles: the less expensive and less fragrant summer truffles or the real thing, white truffles from Alba. At times, Toscana has served both.

I have more trouble finding a main course other than the chicken and the fiorentina to recommend. The regular bistecca isn’t as flavorful. Poached salmon tastes like a last resort choice for dieters. Grilled branzino or sea bass is pallid, and the Milanese (that’s pounded veal chop rolled in egg and bread crumbs) tastes like a mystery meat it has so little inherent flavor. If you crave seafood, go with the Tuscan calamari inzimino. I wish the calamari were tastier, but when stewed with Swiss chard or spinach, tomatoes and white wine, it makes a delicious dish.

Desserts are entirely forgettable. If you must have one, go with the restrained ricotta cheese cake.

The place is incredibly noisy, boisterous and, if you’re not concerned about actually hearing what anyone at your table is saying, fun. Since I don’t think anyone enjoys feeling hustled, I have to surmise that either everyone here has come to terms with it or doesn’t notice the staff aggressively topping off water, the sooner to open a new bottle. Or the well-heeled crowd has such deep pockets, the high wine markups don’t even register. For a relaxed evening of dining, the food comes out far too fast, but then that may be another reason why Toscana is so popular with A types: You can be in and out in an hour.

*

Toscana

Rating: * 1/2

Location: 11633 San Vicente Blvd., Brentwood; (310) 820-2448.

Ambience: Smart, contemporary Italian with closely packed tables, high energy and a well-heeled Westside crowd. Solo diners gravitate to the long marble counter in front of the wood-burning pizza oven.

Service: Disconcertingly efficient. The food comes out fast, the better to turn the tables.

Price: Appetizers $6.50 to $17.50; pastas and risottos $11 to $17.75; main courses $17.50 to $34; desserts $7.75 to $8.50.

Best dishes: Pasta e fagioli, bocconcini di mozzarella, artichoke salad, risotto with wild mushrooms, pennette alla carrettiera, brisket, bistecca fiorentina, ricotta cheesecake.

Wine list: A predictable, uninspired mix of California and Italian labels with generally high markups. Corkage $15.

Best table: A seat at the counter in front of the wood-burning oven, with a bird’s-eye view of the cooking action.

Details: Open for lunch and dinner Monday through Saturday, 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m. and 5:30 p.m.-11 p.m.; and Sunday for dinner from 5:30 to 11 p.m. Valet parking, $3.50.

Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. ****: Outstanding on every level. ***: Excellent. **: Very good. *: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.