I've heard there's a block in Rhode Island that's zoned commercial but which doesn't have an Italian restaurant. I think it's in a Hmong neighborhood. And it's not just the expected families that turn out boys who grow up to open Italian restaurants, the way red-blooded American lads used to want to become firefighters or NFL quarterbacks. The two Roberts who opened Roberto's? The chef's last name is Myers, and his partner's is Vanderhoof.

The restaurant is a year old this month, an intimate little space, non-smoking, although too small to be quiet. (Unless you request an even smaller room in the back, which holds only three tables.) Bistro charm. Upscale aspirations. The well-trained staff is courteous but unobtrusive, with no desire to become your new best friend. Muted color photographs of Italian street scenes, with an eye for the architecture, remind you that you're not completely in Bristol anymore.

The preliminaries can keep you in the right place. First, there's Italian bread with what passes for character in dough: high-gluten chewiness. The olive oil, not to be outdone for personality, has pepper as well as herbs. I also hit upon the best Cabernet Sauvignon I'd had in a while, Trinchero 1998 ($7.50/$28). I wasn't the only one at the table who was keeping track of the label for future indulgence in the wine's full-bodied spiciness. ("Impertinent, yet moderately expensive" -- I've always wanted to say something like that.) Another thing I liked was that the menu treats us like adults: none of that silly $9.95 or $19.95 pricing, as though we can be persuaded we're not really paying $10 or $20.

Speaking of preliminaries, three of the four of us at the table are food writers and the fourth is an excellent cook. So, each having our own idea of how to start things off, we had four different kick-starters for our appetites. The mesclun house salad ($6) on my left had a basil vinaigrette with a hint of orange. The shrimp cocktail across from me ($2.25 per piece) was enjoyed with the novel touch of tart cranberries in the cocktail sauce. Johnnie had Roberto's signature Tuscan bread salad ($6), which was rather bland, not the festive party of flavors we're used to. My soup, pasta e fagioli ($4), was tasty with tomato and cheese. It was chock full of chickpeas as well as cannellini beans, but I could have used far more pasta for the textural contrast that's not an incidental part of the dish.

My counterpart had a special of the evening, sole and lobster on linguini ($17) and was also satisfied. Pieces of filet and fresh crustacean in a wine and butter sauce -- what's not to like? Since most of the offerings are northern Italian, everyone else ordered main courses as though this was a Tomato-Free Zone. I felt a responsibility to check out the red sauce, so I had the cannelloni ($12). Good choice. The simple marinara sauce was as good as it comes, the flavor all but shouting "Pomodori!" like a San Martino tomato vendor. Sheets of homemade spinach pasta gave the variety of firmness at the edges and well doneness around the ricotta filling. (Vegetarians will welcome meatless versions of lasagne and fettuccine aglio e olio.)

Our foodie friends had to cool their heels for a few minutes after our plates arrived. Unfortunately, that wasn't all that was cooling: their dishes arrived tepid, victims of the Dreaded Warming Lamp, apparently. But the flavors weren't affected, so they carried on with enthusiasm. The veal piccata ($18) passed muster, its lemon tang amplified by plenty of capers tossed in with the fettuccine. The tortellini alla panna ($14) was in a pink cream sauce, but not heavy cream. Pieces of prosciutto, yellow squash, and snow peas filled out the dish nicely.

This was not a dinner party to wave off desserts ($5 each), especially since they're made at Roberto's. The flan was presented attractively, on a plate crisscrossed with chocolate syrup that mingled with the caramel topping of the baked custard. I had vanilla ice cream covered with two of my other favorite items (too few), Bing cherries in syrup, plus crumbled Torrone nougat. When something so simple can be so good in a restaurant, it makes me wonder why complex sometimes gets to be all the rage. Know what could put a stop to that? More Italian restaurants.

Bill Rodriguez can be reached at billrod@reporters.net.

Issue Date: March 1 - 7, 2002