Angelo's Ristorante

A new restaurant on Boylston does some wonderful things with crustaceans and gastropods. And the chef comes from . . . Stoneham?

575 Boylston Street (Copley Square) Boston; 536-4045
Open Mon - Sat, 10 a.m. to midnight; Sun, 5 to 10 p.m.
Beer and wine
AE, DC, MC, Visa
Street-level access

by Stephen Heuser

At first it sounded like a joke. My girlfriend's parents were taking me to dinner in Stoneham, somewhere we could bring our own wine. We're going to a place called Angelo's, they said. It's one of our favorites, they said.

It's a sub shop, they said. Ha ha.

It was all very funny until we actually exited the car in front of a sub shop called Angelo's. We walked past the counter, past the one-ounce bags of Fritos, past the board listing 10 kinds of grinders, hot and cold -- and then we passed through a doorway into a dining room that was quiet and even elegant, though I wasn't sure I could ignore the glow of sub-shop neon sneaking through the doorway behind me. I ordered escargot in puff pastry; for an entree, the waiter recommended something that wasn't even on the menu, a mixed grill with lamb, venison, and wild boar.

Boar? I forgot the neon light. This was one of the treasures of the northern suburbs.

I probably wouldn't even be telling you about it, only now Angelo's has set up shop on Boylston Street, having taken over the space of the old Mediterranean cafeteria Café la Poche and transformed it into a similarly genteel dining room. Waiters bustle about in black tie and shirtsleeves, and a flame erupts periodically from the open kitchen in the back. Neon makes an incursion here, too, since a curtain along one side of the long room isn't quite opaque enough to mask a blue-and-orange glow from the adjacent branch of Federal Express.

The thirtysomething Angelo Caruso, born in Naples and raised in Stoneham, has jumped wholeheartedly into his Boston operation, leaving his father Sal as chef of the original Angelo's. He told us this as he circulated among the tables one Saturday night, with toque and embroidered chef's jacket, to check on everyone's meal. (Ours was fine, thank you.) Angelo's style is consistent more in its high-endedness than in its devotion to any one culinary tradition; the chef himself explained that his cooking is influenced by traditions from all over Italy, especially those of the regions between Florence and Naples, and by the simple grilling of Sardinia.

For all that, the food here isn't always Italian. It is, however, very good. We started our first meal with a lobster bisque ($6.95) that was as transcendent to eat as to look at; served in a wide, flat dish, the soup had a vivid saffron color, an almost satiny texture, and a taste that married the richness of butter and lobster. The bowl held a bright sprig of green watercress and a langoustine the size of a small rock lobster, tail split and ready to be eaten by anyone (say, me) willing to get a little bisque on the fingers.

Another starter with the same style, and the same ability to surprise, was the portobello ai ferri ($9.95). Slices of the giant mushroom were grilled and served over arugula; with them came sundried tomatoes pan-roasted in a way that created a crisp, light texture and a mouth-filling taste that stopped just short of seeming smoked. All this, along with a roasted half-tomato, crispy scallions, truffle-oiled parmesan slices, and arugula that was almost too fresh (we encountered a bit of sand) added up to a salad of memorable originality and depth of flavor. We did pretty well, too, ordering the sort of thing you'd expect at a more predictable Italian restaurant: the antipasto plate ($8.95), for instance, was loaded with prosciutto, marinated eggpalant, and even a chunk of excellent Gorgonzola cheese.

One other barnburner appetizer was called lumache in sfoglie ($8.95), which Angelo claims to have invented himself: snails nestled in mushroom caps, then baked in puff pastry. The pastry and the sherry-cream sauce were delightful, but even more so was the secret pleasure of being presented with a plate full of golf ball-sized spheres concealing, somewhere inside, chewy little gastropods.

None of our entrees hit quite that pitch of novelty, but they all displayed a seriousness and consistency that elevates Angelo's into that small group of restaurants that actually merit their $13-to-$25 menu prices. A dish of pheasant ($19.95) served on truffled polenta was a straight shot down the middle, the bird pan-roasted with a nice fowl taste, the polenta lacking a real note of truffle (perhaps the oil had been cooked too long into the polenta?) but, pleasingly, with slices of fresh porcini mushrooms. And a plate of venison medallions ($21.95) was tender, also served with porcini, and a reduction sauce that included some artichoke hearts and roasted shallots.

Not to say that everything was on target. We ran into a bit of trouble with the quail ravioli ($16.95), which we remembered fondly from Stoneham as rich-tasting dumplings in a sauce of brandy and pancetta. I can eat a lot of salt before puckering up and drying out at the edges, but this tasted as though it had received its full share of salt at least twice, the result being that the flavor of the whole thing was sadly masked. On the other hand, there was no such trouble with the salmon tagliatelle ($14.95), which combined toothsome fresh pasta, chunks of salmon, and green onions.

The middle of the room at Angelo's boasts a hulking wine cabinet, a sure sign that the new branch doesn't cleave to the bring-your-own policy that makes the Stoneham restaurant a favorite haunt of local oenophiles. The wines on offer, though, seemed a nice match for the food; we enjoyed a half-bottle of Renwood zinfandel ($15) and some pleasant whites by the glass: a mild pinot grigio by Campanile ($4.75) and a Trimbach pinot blanc ($5.75).

The desserts, on average, don't stand out in memory the way the rest of the cooking does. We had one fresh and lively bowl of lemon sorbetto ($5.25), but the various chocolate cakes and tarts (all between $6 and $7) were merely adequate -- not bad, mind you, but nothing that couldn't be found at any restaurant. And the whole point of opening a modern, swellegant Italian grill on Boylston Street -- certainly, the whole point of Angelo's -- is that what you're ordering isn't available just anywhere.