Review: Il Giardinello Beach Grill

The small, low-slung building on the ocean side of Route 35 packs cars to its left and cars to its right on this weekend night. It's not yet summer, but when Il Giardinello Beach Grill, the Normandy Beach seasonal sibling of the Toms River stalwart, opens in the spring, its diehard fans descend.

Homey and cozy, just like the best beach houses, this traditional Italian spot owned by Joe Pisacreta uses a two-dining-room setup to add to its snug appeal.  Il Giardinello Beach Grill borrows some staff and menu from the mothership, the folks behind the scenes say, fashioning here-there familiarity that only adds to the warmth. That familiarity gels with the menu, which focuses on classics that have endured for decades in Italian restaurants in America.

Too, the portions are heaping, with appetizers weighing in as main-course in size, pastas mounded high and entrees presented on veritable serving platters. If you're a devotee of the you-getta-lot school of dining out, expecting tomorrow's dinner to be scored from tonight's leftovers, you'll be sated here.

Who won't be sated are those who seek more finesse and fine-tuning in the Italian repertoire, those who revel in the subtleties of the various regional Italian specialties and who don't cotton to the theory that super-sizing not only portions, but the application of sauce and cheese, makes for better dishes.

As I sampled around the menu, I kept coming back to the same conclusion: It's all big, but nothing reveals that deft touch in the kitchen capable of elevating a dish from simple sustenance to something sensational and compelling. Much of the menu, as well as the short list of specials, seemed out of step with contemporary tastes. But if you like old style, if you want what you ate in summers past, that's what you'll find here.

Such as a solid rendition of eggplant rollantine, served forth with milky, melting ricotta as the dominant force, matched by the tart-sweet essence of a tomato-based sauce and the plain backdrop of the silky-textured slow-cooked vegetable. It's predictable, and it's very enjoyable.

But I found the escarole soup bland. The broth was weak, its essential base difficult to discern and the wisps of greens lacked the vital bitterness that gives this classic its soul.

Broccoli rabe, a special starter on this night, was swathed in oil and garlic, but the vegetable was far too mushy in parts and the olive oil wishy-washy in spirit. For this exercise in simplicity to succeed, its fundamentals must be of top quality — and handled with precision in the kitchen.

The chef's signature pasta here is a toss of rigatoni with a lineup of potentially invigorating accents set in a tomato sauce billed as light. Shards of prosciutto and snips of onions mingled with cherry peppers in the sauce, indeed, but excesses of tomato all but drowned out their flavors. A dab of dull grated Romano cheese added nothing to the mix.

Enter entrees

Chilean sea bass is a fish with a firm texture and moderately, yet invitingly oily taste that begs piquant accenting. It doesn't take well to thick batters like the eggy, soft-textured one applied here. A blast of lemon/garlic-spiked butter-wine sauce caused the coating on the fish to leach into the bed of leeks and spinach supporting the fish; it was out balance, out of whack.

Better was an entree sporting pork chops stuffed with thin layers of prosciutto and mozzarella and topped with a spirited tomato sauce. True, the pork chops and accompanying penne each were a tad overcooked, but the dish allowed main elements and accents to click.

Chicken fontina, with a rush of very mild-mannered mushrooms taking the lead in a too-generously applied sauce, needed a burst of fresh herbs, a sense of thoughtful seasoning. Its smear of nondescript cheese and wash of mushroom sauce didn't do much to perk up the blank of chicken; soggy risotto did nothing to boost the plate, either.

Our service team, cordial, kind and truly strong of arm to be able to carry those groaning plates from kitchen to table all night, told us of the sparse list of confections. Ricotta cheesecake needed to be better cared-for in storage and given the lift of a supportive accent — lemon? orange? — to show as anything more than acceptable. Pagogali, which a server accurately described as a melange of amaretto ice cream, chocolate cake and almond crunch coated in chocolate, then given a spin with raspberry sauce, proved a dismal assembly of poorly prepared parts.

While there's a place for the kinds of traditional fare Il Giardinello Beach Grill showcases, more care needs to be taken in the kitchen with basics. Soup shouldn't be based on an insipid broth; overcooked broccoli rabe can't be covered up when it's the marqueed star of a dish; the personality of a usually lovely-tasting fish should never be blanked out by big batters and extreme applications of sauce. It's a matter of re-focusing the kitchen. Because even a summertime audience deserves classics done right.

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