Goombah comfort food

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie ... you might as well be at Don Antonio’s Pizzeria, a surprisingly high-quality neighborhood Italian joint recently opened in the city’s rapidly developing south, east of the 215 Freeway.

But I’m going to let you in on a little secret. It isn’t really a pizzeria.

Sure, there is pizza, all right: New York-style, which I’d say was of medium thickness; Chicago-style, deep-dish, served in an olive oil rubbed pan; and Sicilian, enormous, puffy pies so big and billowy that they look as if you could go hot air ballooning on them.

Tommy D’Antonio, who owns the place along with his partner, Patty, sneakily called it a pizzeria in order to secure a delivery business, and he’s been so successful doing so that the restaurant delivers between 70 and 100 pizzas to hungry locals per night.

This is a full-service restaurant, though, with fine, if somewhat overly familiar, cooking that draws from the rich traditions of the New York Italian joints we all know and love. It features twirling overhead fans, wooden tables with red-and-white-checked surfaces and a gallery of black-and-white photos, shots of old Vegas, John Gotti, the Little Rascals, even a signed portrait of the Boss, Bruce Springsteen himself.

Bet your grandmother’s cannoli that’s Sinatra, Tony Bennett or Lena Horne on the sound system. Anytime after the lunch rush begins, and chances are there is going to be a short wait for tables. As a matter of fact, the instant popularity took D’Antonio by surprise. “I guess I still have a lot of friends who remember me from when I owned the Venetian,” he said. He had the Venetian, a landmark Vegas Italian restaurant started by Lou and Angie Ruvo, from 1997 to 2003.

Maybe some of the nostalgia seekers come for two of my favorite dishes here, both of them Venetian holdovers. One is baked clams oreganata, a dozen Little Necks filled with a delicious breadcrumb-and-herb stuffing. The only difference between it and the ones I ate in the Venetian is a caper butter sauce that D’Antonio puts on top. It’s tasty, but I still prefer the simpler version. In fact, if there is any fault to be found with the kitchen here, it is a tendency to get overzealous with the use of sauces.

Then there are those neck bones. You can’t believe how many people blanch at the thought of eating this dish, and then end up addicted. Imagine huge hunks of perfectly braised pork, swimming in a dark brown sauce laced with baked peppers. That’s all it is, really. If you didn’t know the meat came from a pig’s neck, you wouldn’t have a clue.

D’Antonio uses products rarely found at this price point. La Brea Bakery bread, which comes to the table piping hot, is a top-quality product, and most of these meats are from Boars Head. Tables come standard issue with bottles of balsamic vinegar and extra virgin olive oil, shakers of Parmesan cheese and crushed red pepper. The hand-cut white veal is from a well-known Midwestern butcher, Strauss.

Knowing all this, don’t expect any rampant creativity. Think goombah comfort fare, an homage to the pre-Tuscan and Asian-influenced Italian cooking that you find in big cities all over this country these days.

How about starting with an antipasto salad, all the usual suspects like roast red peppers done on the restaurant’s grill, roasted eggplant and a parade of Italian meats and cheeses? Or perhaps you’d like a homemade soup: Italian wedding soup, laced with tiny meatballs and spinach; a classic minestrone; or sometimes even a hearty pasta fazool.

Where else in town can you get scungilli, or conch, a Little Italy favorite, done à la Fra Diavolo, in a spicy sauce over linguine? Pass the Brioschi. Actually, there are more than 30 pastas on this menu, anything from the simple garlic and oil preparations to ornate fare such as lobster ravioli and gnocchi al pesto, in a creamy basic garlic and cheese mix.

Entrées like eggplant Parmesan and veal Francese, battered in egg and pan-fried, are all good, but heavily sauced, so I recommend having the sauces on the side. Osso buco, slow-roasted veal shank, is delicious here. So are a few items from the grill, especially a grilled bone in Porterhouse cut pork chop, half the price of the veal chop, with flavor to burn.

Some of the desserts, if you still have room, are made here. Cannoli, tiny boats of crisp pastry stuffed with a sweet ricotta cheese filling and dotted with chocolate chips, are just grand, and the gelati, Italian ice creams, are dense and sweet, from a purveyor in Florida.

Finish off with an individual pot of espresso, direct from the stovetop. That’s amore.

Don Antonio’s Pizzeria

8810 Maryland Parkway. 818-3789.