Loyalty is a beautiful thing. It's so thick at Angelo's Civita Farnese -- the red sauce institution on Atwells Avenue -- that you can taste it. Take that Italian-American lover boy in Michael Corrente's Federal Hill, for example. Where does he take the Brown hottie to impress her with aglio e olio? Angelo's? You bet.

I was recently reminded of such allegiance. I was listening to someone wax rhapsodic about the place, harking back decades to when it was one small room and you'd rarely buy your own wine -- which came in tumblers, like at home -- because someone who recognized you would send it over, just as you'd do if you had seen them first.

Nice. Lift the glass and "A salute" across the room. No matter that it's table wine rather than Sangiovese, and so what if there's no whiff of truffle oil and wild mushroom medley on capellini? You don't come to Angelo's for the food and drink so much as for the atmosphere. And you don't bring up al dente unless you want to be asked, "Al who?"

Entering, we turned to the right and went past the small bar to the main dining area. To the left is a newer room with brick walls and loud carpet, which would make an authentic Angelo's experience as likely as in a fern bar. We sat in a booth at a wood-grained Formica table and looked around. Tables in the middle of the room have enameled metal tops and photographs of regulars, such as ProJo political columnist Charlie Bakst, hang on the walls. A model train set is up near the ceiling and winds all around the room. Kids can get it going for 25 cents, which has raised $8000 for the Make-a-Wish Foundation, our waitress informed us.

A civita is a public meeting place -- the Farnese in the eatery's name refers to the region outside Rome -- so the place is bound to be social. There certainly were plenty of kids around to keep the train chugging. Clearly, this is a family restaurant, and the regulars know to ask for children's menu items, such as the saucy "Italian hamburger" and chicken tenders. For the rest of us, there's no written menu, just letter-board lists of offerings. The priciest item is just $13.45, for a one-pound sirloin. There are also chops and cutlets for the teeth tingly, but most of the items are regulation Italian-American fare: Parmesans and pastas, sprinkled with a few less usual dishes, such as tripe ($4.25) and string bean salad ($2.90).

The menu boards are a little confusing because appetizers, some of which aren't marked as such, are listed together with main dishes. But when our waitress offered an explanation of the eggplant con ricciolo ($4.50), thin slices of fried, breaded eggplant, served with a marinara sauce, we started with it. Order an extra portion of the sauce for 75 cents, as we did -- you don't get enough otherwise -- and you'll probably be pleased. I also ordered a bowl of soup, the "greens and beans" ($2.45), instead of the chicken noodle. Escarole and white beans in a tasty broth. For a place on the Hill, the Italian bread is oddly bland, however.

Johnnie got the real treat of the meal, apart from the desserts. A special was stuffed shells, at three for $6.50 or with an extra one for a buck more. The ricotta filling was dreamy creamy, although the marinara for our appetizer had more character and texture. The plainer sauce also came with my homemade pasta, cut fettuccine-width ($4.90). Unfortunately, it was overcooked, and the dish needed jazzing up from the shaker of grated cheese on the table. Asking for a meatball and a piece of sausage, I received a combo side ($3.95) with French fries in addition to the very tasty meatballs and so-so sausages.

As for dessert, since our server informed us that the tapioca and chocolate puddings were instant mixes, we checked out the cannoli ($2.50). The ricotta mixture in the stuffed shells had been so yummy that we figured their sweetened kitchen-made version would work. It certainly did and, happily, the filled-to-order shell wasn't soggy. This made a good appetizer for the turtle cheesecake ($3.50) that I couldn't pass up -- chocolate chunks and caramel on top, plus chocolate and caramel drizzled on the plate for a presentation worthy of the fancier places up the street.

This restaurant has been feeding its fans at various Atwells Avenue locations since Angelo Mastrodicasa opened it in 1924, and it has been run by several generations of the same family ever since. Odds are that Angelo's Civita Farnese will be doing the same come 2024.

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

Issue Date: December 13 - 19, 2002