RESTAURANT REVIEW : Not Fancy, Not Hip but Fabiolus

A few months ago, a friend made me the following offer: “I’ll take you to a great little place if you promise not to tell anybody.”

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“I can’t promise any such thing,” I said. “But,” I casually added, “where is this place?”

“Forget it.”

I couldn’t forget it. For one thing, this friend didn’t let me.

“I had another good meal last night,” he would say. “It’s just a quiet, small place, nothing fancy. The room’s pretty, the food’s tasty, the staff is sweet, and the prices are unbelievably low.”

I begged. I pleaded. I feigned disinterest.

“It’s important to keep the good things small,” he said. “I don’t ever want to wait for a seat there.”

Recently, my friend’s resolve weakened. “Business is not so good at dinner,” he told me. “Maybe the place could use some talking up.”

Then, before he was really ready, and after I’d done him a big favor, this friend took me to the Fabiolus Cafe. That’s the name of the place, the secret I’m unable to keep: Fabiolus.

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Fabiolus is on Melrose, between two vintage furniture stores, in a strange restaurant no-man’s land well east of where the street even begins to be hip. Film studios are close by, and these no doubt keep the place alive during the day.

My pal was fairly accurate in his assessment: Fabiolus is nothing fancy--no need to run there, especially if it’s not in your neighborhood or en route to someplace you have to go. It’s just a storefront cafe, narrow, with concrete floors and pretty sage-green chairs, white tablecloths and walls recently painted an ancient yellow and hung with tolerable, minimal art. In short, Fabiolus is another little Italian kitchen, another example, even an exemplary example, of the Europeanization of Los Angeles. But sweet. Quite pleasant.

At lunch, Fabiolus is essentially a studio cafeteria packed with suits and creative types. The staff goes full-tilt distributing mineral water, lemonade, big bowls of pasta and salad, plates of antipasto and big, fat, bready sandwiches. The noise level can be punishing.

At dinner, however, Fabiolus is quiet, sleepy. As often as not, my group and I were the first diners of the evening and felt bad for wresting the staff’s attention from the televised ballgame. But we were always treated graciously.

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The pleasures here are basic: The food is almost always pleasing and the owner allowed my sister to practice her Italian on him.

There’s a daily assortment of fresh antipasto: celery with baby shrimp, grilled eggplant, roasted peppers with black olives, lightly dressed fresh steamed asparagus.

The salads on the menu are simple, fresh and lightly dressed. I liked the spinach, arugula and tomato salad with cubes of fresh, snow-white mozzarella.

Fabiolus bears the distinction among the countless Italian cafes in this city of not selling pizza. Instead, there are sandwiches served on thick, rustic Italian bread: a subtle eggplant, mozzarella and radicchio sandwich; a Gorgonzola, roasted pepper and black olive sandwich, far less subtle; and a frankfurter sandwich with a few shreds of sauerkraut and yellow mustard. Downright silly, but fun. Fabiolus might well be the only Italian cafe in this city that serves a hot dog on rustic bread.

I am drawn to Fabiolus’ dinner specials. Going into Fabiolus and ordering one is probably as close as I’ll come to having an Italian mother in the kitchen who will cook up something simple but different every night. One night, it’s juicy, medium-rare lamb chops with sauteed spinach; another night, it’s a great slab of swordfish with a lemon, butter and caper sauce and a big hank of broccoli.

Fabiolus’ pastas are constructed with wonderful simplicity. It took enormous self-discipline to order something other than the rigatoni alla mugnaia , fat tubes with sauteed oyster mushrooms, capers, garlic and olive oil. But the cream-sauced dishes were almost equally nice. Fusilli al salmone , in particular, is an interesting mix of smooth, smoky salmon, light cream and compelling, bitter scraps of sauteed radicchio.

In true European fashion, you’ll probably have to ask for your check. There’s no pressure to move you out, even in a lunch rush. Besides, the tiramisu and coffees are worth the lingering.

So, this small secret is out. Wander in someday when you’re in the neighborhood.

*Fabiolus Cafe, 5255 Melrose Ave., Hollywood, (213) 464-5857. Lunch and dinner Monday through Saturday. No alcohol served. Diners Club, MasterCard and Visa. Dinner for two, food only, $16-$44.