In? It’s never been out

EARLY or late, weekday or weekend, it’s party time at Dan Tana’s. Call for a reservation a day or two ahead and the only tables available are at 5:30 or 10 p.m., making this West Hollywood old-school Italian one of the toughest reservations in town. The regulars are passionate about the place. It’s fun. There’s always somebody or something to see. The bar makes a strong drink, and the bartender invariably remembers exactly how you like your martini or Manhattan. And, who knows, you might get lucky and end up rubbing shoulders with some kind of star.

At the door, a polite young man plays Eliza Doolittle, selling single long-stemmed roses to romantics. On the garden benches plopped on either side of the entrance, junior agents and actors-in-waiting take urgent cellphone calls, struggling to close a deal between courses. Fast-moving luxury cars squirt to a stop in front, disgorging aging rock ‘n’ rollers, industry honchos, famous faces and hangers-on, drop-ins from the neighborhood.

No restaurant in greater L.A. gets such a wild mix every night of the week. And this has been going on for more than 40 years. Dan Tana’s, in fact, celebrates its 42nd birthday in October.

There is a down side. And that’s the food, which, with the exception of a handful of dishes, is unfailingly mediocre. The kitchen turns out formulaic versions of classics, which, if they were well-executed, could be wonderful and appealing. One problem is that Dan Tana’s is not a chef-driven restaurant with someone who really cares about Italian cuisine and makes sure that every dish that leaves the kitchen is the best it can be.

When Dan Tana’s opened, you couldn’t find the top-quality Italian ingredients that are almost taken for granted now: aged Parmigiano-Reggiano, prosciutto di Parma, artisanal pasta, the great extra virgin olive oils, San Marzano tomatoes. Now that they are available, you’d think, especially at these prices, the kitchen would upgrade its ingredients. But why fix something that’s not broken seems to be the management’s sentiment.

And plenty of people love the big portions, the sloppy plates and the retro taste.

With a side of pasta

ITALIANS, though, would be hard-pressed to claim this food as their own, its qualities are so blurred and exaggerated. The house style involves great washes of tomato sauce, tons of mozzarella, and oodles of garlic and oil, which means everything looks and pretty much tastes the same.

Dan Tana’s is one of the few old-school Italians still offering pasta as a side dish with the main courses. Here, it’s spaghetti with one of three sauces: a slurried meat sauce, which is not all that bad; the bright red tomato sauce; or oil and garlic. The spaghetti is cooked past al dente, warmed in hot water, and plopped on the plate with zero ceremony.

Despite the food, Dan Tana’s definitely has its charms. For some, it’s nostalgia for the wild rock ‘n’ roll days when you might see John Belushi on a binge, entire bands stopping in after a concert (the restaurant is next door to the Troubadour), sitcom stars bending their elbows one too many times, all the wayward youth coming in for a bite to eat after a long ragged night. It used to be cheap, say friends who wasted much of the ‘70s and ‘80s hanging out here. But it isn’t anymore, that’s for sure. Every time I’ve gone recently, the bill averaged $100 a person.

Celebs who hang around long enough have dishes named after them, which makes deciphering the menu a pain. There’s veal scaloppine Karl Malden, fettuccine Alfredo a la Mark Singer, steak and peppers Sinatra -- but they’re listed with no explanation whatever as to particulars.

The decor is as kitschy as can be, with straw-wrapped Chianti bottles hung from the rafters and red walls covered with drawings, paintings, memorabilia and Lakers jerseys. There’s a photo of owner Dan Tana, who emigrated here from Tito’s Yugoslavia, with the soccer team he owns in the old country.

It’s a little shabby, but cozy, like L’Ami Louis in Paris, but enshrining L.A. in the ‘70s rather than Paris in the ‘30s -- and without the fabulous food.

The booths are standard-issue red Naugahyde and some of them are fenced off with curlicues of white-painted wrought iron. But after you wait and wait -- not because the maitre d’ gives your table to someone more important, but because people tend to stay long at the table, having fun -- sliding into one is a giddy-making experience, especially since you’ve probably had two or three drinks by that time.

I watch one night as a guy wearing a hugely expensive Rolex and a pinkie ring leads his party to a booth with the confident air of one who’s certain that this, indeed, is the place. He takes the oversized menu and holds it up, pointing out salient dishes, and proceeds to order for everybody. Calling back the waiter, he adds, “and a double order of garlic bread.”

Probably two minutes later, the basket of garlic bread arrives, neatly tucked under a cloth. When his friend reaches inside to take a piece, cheese strings span the distance from the basket to his plate. The house garlic bread is oily, garlicky and covered in gooey mozzarella.

Mama mia, mozzarella!

THEN there’s mozzarella marinara, a block of fried mozzarella buried in tomato sauce. The appeal of mozzarella and tomato is pretty much universal, so this is satisfying, but much better to share. Eat the whole thing and you’re going down for the count, it’s so heavy.

The best appetizer is something called pimiento and anchovies: lipstick red, thick-fleshed roasted peppers with plump anchovy fillets on top. That’s it. The peppers are full-bodied and flavorful, and the anchovies are firm and meaty, packed in salt instead of oil. It’s basic and very good, because, for once, the ingredients are top-notch. Italian food is so straightforward and simple that unless you’re working with the best products, it falls flat.

Dan Tana’s Caesar is certainly not the best in town, but it is made to order. Look toward the corner, close to the bar, and you can sometimes see a waiter furiously mixing up the dressing and tossing the romaine. For me, it could use more punch. And better Parmigiano. Warm spinach salad, heavy on the vinegar, and garnished with either soggy bacon bits or some ersatz bacon substitute (it’s hard to tell, the pieces are so small) is tolerable too.

They aren’t kidding about the diavolo in the shrimp diavolo, basically shrimp on top of spaghetti in a tomato sauce with a brutal kick of red pepper. I kind of like it like that. Most of the pasta dishes are sadly overcooked and oversauced. Better executed, they could have the appeal of those at places like Dominick’s, with its well-defined take on Italian American cuisine.

Fans of the restaurant rave about the New York steak. In the past, I haven’t always been impressed, but the last couple of visits, I got an excellent steak, charred on the outside, on the rare side of medium-rare within. It’s a steak with heft and some age on it, but not so much that it’s not juicy.

Calves’ liver and onions, while not great, could make a decent supper. Another safe choice is veal scallopine Marsala, which has the virtue of not being too floury, nicely dosed with Marsala. No. 1 item not to order: the rubbery, oversized, stuffed calamari. The rollatini is pretty dismal too, tough veal rolled around mozzarella, the whole thing sloshing around in enough tomato sauce to feed the room.

I have to say, reluctantly, that you’re better off drinking cocktails or beer at Dan Tana’s than trying to wrest an interesting, reasonably priced wine off this list. And even though they have some bottles that cost well over a C note, the stemware is all purpose, bullet-proof one shape for all. Asked if they have something bigger for a red, our waiter shot back, “What do you think this is, a three star restaurant?”

Desserts are uniformly dull, like something you’d get at a cut-rate deli. The tiramisu is acceptable, as is the cappuccino ice cream, if you like it very sweet. Zabaglione for two costs a whopping $20 and is made with such low-quality Marsala, and too much of it, that all you can taste is the burn of the alcohol. The kitchen gets the texture just right, though.

When you’re finally ready to relinquish your booth, no matter how late you get up to leave, more people are piling in at the door. After midnight, waiters are still moving at a brisk trot, the bar is still happening, and, for these night owls, young and old, the evening is still young.

*

Dan Tana’s

Rating: Half a star

Location: 9071 Santa Monica Blvd., West Hollywood; (310) 275-9444; www.dantanasrestaurant.com.

Ambience: Clubby old-school Italian with red-and-white checked tablecloths, Chianti bottles strung from the rafters, a hyperactive bar scene and a wild mix of regulars and drop-ins from out of town, most on the industry circuit.

Service: Unflappable and fast, from tuxedoed waiters who know everybody and are in for the long haul.

Price: Appetizers, $5 to $16; pasta, $20 to $22; main courses, $24 to $49; sides, $7 to $14; desserts, $7 to $20.

Best dishes: Pimiento and anchovies, mozzarella marinara, Caesar salad, veal scallopine or chicken Marsala, New York steak.

Wine list: Boring and overpriced. Corkage, $25.

Best table: A corner booth in the front room with the bar.

Details: Open 5 p.m. to 1:30 a.m. daily. Full bar. Valet parking, $5.

*

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.