TASTE: Pretty Good Italian

Like so much in a city where fine Italian chefs must serve spaghetti to an undemanding clientele, La Collina is steadfast and good, if not imaginative

Max Jacobson

Sure, on the Strip you can get white truffles in risotto in places like Piero Selvaggio's Valentino, at prices that reflect their astronomical cost, more than $2,500 per kilo. But even in these bastions of gastronomy, a chef like Luciano Pellegrini finds that he has to serve spaghetti and meatballs to answer the demand of the guests.

If you think he has it bad, then venture to the hinterlands, to the beautiful new Tuscan-style villa called La Collina, where talented chef Hercules Mantel recently removed his rotisserie due to lack of interest. La Collina sits on a high hill, with a glorious view of the Strip; it has all the appointments that make for a comfortable, elegant restaurant. There is a stunning tile floor, pastel colors, tasteful paintings and a huge stone oven by the front podium, the better to cook delicious pizzas and piadinas, folded-over, filling-stuffed flatbreads. On the patio that overlooks the Strip, lights flicker on hazy nights in the distance, making this one of the more romantic settings around.

Service is knowledgeable and efficient. And there is an attractive wine list, with several good choices for under $40, such as a Benton Lane pinot noir from Oregon and A Mano Primitivo, an underappreciated red from Sicily, for only $28.

But if you're longing for cuisine you haven't encountered before, you are in the wrong place. You've seen this menu, many times, although perhaps not often as well-executed. Maybe this restaurant lacks imagination; what it does have is quality and consistency. Chalk that up to the expertise of Mantel, a longtime Vegas restaurant veteran.

I realize that piadinas are probably intended as a midcourse, but I like to start a meal here with one. Piadine con prosciutto has a delicious layer of the thinly sliced imported ham on top of a subtle layer of cheese, rounded out by arugula and sliced tomato. What makes it work is a magically thin crust on two sides. The other choice, made with grilled New York steak and fontina cheese, is tasty as well, but definitely heavier.

Regarding soup, the traditional way to begin an Italian meal, I'd go with the pasta e fagioli, a thicker, heartier bean and pasta soup made with a touch of chicken stock, but I also like the light, well-minced minestrone, made without beans. Insalata Caprese takes its name from the island of Capri. It's a simple salad made with tomatoes and mozzarella cheese served in layers, topped with fresh basil and extra-virgin olive oil. This dish depends on the integrity of ingredients, and this one passes the test.

Hot appetizers worth tasting include a garlicky scampi dish, perfect for soaking in the crusty white Italian bread, and vongole al vino bianco—sautéed Manila clams in a bath of white wine, garlic, diced tomatoes and olive oil. Pizzas from the stone oven are fine, too, thin-crusted, although not as thin or chewy as the piadinas.

There are no surprises on the pasta menu, but again, you're on steady ground here. I especially like the linguine con prosciutto, laced with pine nuts and diced tomatoes, and pennette alla puttanesca, the "streetwalkers" pasta from Naples made with garlic, onions, black olives and capers; the anchovies are optional.

Main courses can be outstanding, particularly the Saturday night special, osso bucco simmered in white wine and tomatoes—it's a meaty veal shank from which one can dig the marrow out from the center with a spoon. It's as close as you'll get to a funky dish on this menu.

Other mains include a nice veal Milanese, topped with a flurry of arugula, diced Roma tomatoes and finely shaved Parmesan; and melanzane Parmigiana (eggplant Parmesan to most of us), which stands out thanks to the rich marinara sauce it is half-drowned in. (Okay, so an Italian would never stand for so much sauce.)

Desserts are nice, too. One is zabaglione con Bacche, whipped egg froth redolent of Marsala wine, served as a blanket on top of seasonal berries (in my case, blueberries and sliced strawberries). The other is what I can only refer to as the inevitable tiramisu, a huge square of ladyfingers and chocolate powder, layered with a mascarpone cheese cream. Hey, what were you expecting, zucchini spice cake with olive-oil gelato? You'll just have to wait until Batali comes to town next year to try that beauty.

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