Cafe Toscano

It's rare that I encounter a crust so light yet so crisp as the one on the pizzetta margherite at Cafe Toscano. It was a mere whisper, crackling before dissolving entirely beneath the tooth. Its topping was simplicity itself: tomatoes, basil, mozzarella. I could hardly have desired better pizza.

In marked contrast was a dish called chicken Toscano. This, in essence, was a rollatine gone wrong: overcooked fists of boneless poultry clenched around a nondescript blend of broccoli, spinach and fontina. Over all was a roasted pepper sherry wine sauce so dark and intense that a dining companion proclaimed it more a demiglace (sauce base) than a sauce itself.

I mention both these dishes to debunk the commonly held fallacy that a kitchen is most impressive when creating something elaborate. Exactly the opposite. Most restaurants, in fact, do best when doing the simpler things right. Which, I am glad to say, happens more often than not at Cafe Toscano.

This is a dining spot with a dual identity. There's the chichi side, which shows up in the valet parking (even on weeknights) and in the plush, urbane look of the earth-toned space. But there's also the working person's Cafe Toscano, whose moderately priced menu features only two dishes (steak and veal chop) costing more than $20.

Generally, I found, the more uncluttered the dish, the better it was. Chef John Circharo serves black Canadian mussels several ways. I had them in a basil-flecked Genovese broth and they were ideal -- sweet and pristine. Gamberi e pancetta -- Italian-bacon-wrapped shrimp -- had been grilled to smoky succulence. True, the shrimp were served over a mesclun salad with mandarin oranges -- a case of gilding the lily -- but nobody minded because the shrimp were so good. On the other hand, a tre colori salad in a lemon thyme dressing was sabotaged by weird little nuggets of candied garlic. Why would anyone want to candy garlic and then put it in a salad?

A bowl of pasta e fagioli was all that was necessary to make any shortcoming seem negligible. This was a deeply delicious soup in which floated tiny pieces of pasta cooked to the precise point of tender resistance to the bite. It was hard to decide which was better, that soup or the fine old-fashioned sausage and chick-pea brew.

A thick flavorful grilled marinated pork chop, paired with a very good red onion marmalade, made for hearty eating. I liked the pappardelle Bolognese, fresh ribbons of al dente pasta served with a creamy-rich coral-hued sauce of ground beef and veal. A dish called aqua pazza (literally, crazy water) translated into a fillet of red snapper blanketed with a Southern Italian red sauce of sundried tomatoes, capers, olives and wine. The kitchen also did well with a special of wild striped bass marechiara, mild fish served withNew Zealand clams and mussels in a light tomato basil sauce over risotto.

A dessert called "lava divine" amounted to the molten flourless chocolate cake ubiquitous to most restaurants, whatever their ethnicity. It came with vanilla gelato, as did an apple tart. Both desserts, from an outside baker, were serviceable. Circharo said he will soon be making all the desserts himself.

If he's as adept with pastry as he is with pizza crust, those finales will indeed be something to look forward to.

Reviewed by Joan Reminick, 7/14/06.