Dining: Rinata the next 'little' thing

Here's how cramped tiny Rinata is: Just as we somehow managed to shoehorn ourselves into our seats on an out-of-control-busy Saturday night, two women cloaked in voluminous, calf-length mink coats appeared at the entrance to the dining room. I watched as their faces quickly computed the mental geometry required to navigate their generously portioned personages through that limited real estate. "We're never going to fit," one wisely said to the other. They left.

Personally, I would have stashed the dead animal act in the trunk and kept the reservation. But that's just me. When Giorgio Cherubini opened his Giorgio in just part of this space in the early 1990s, it was a revelation, a snug setting that forced reserved Minnesotans to dine in perilously close proximity to one another. The restaurant endured ups and downs over the years, influencing both diners and would-be restaurateurs. When Cherubini finally pulled the plug last summer, Al Vento chef/owner Jonathan Hunt snapped up the lease.

Fans of Al Vento will find familiar elements between the two restaurant's menus. But Rinata doesn't carbon-copy its predecessors. For one thing, Hunt pretty much skips traditional entrees -- no grilled pork tenderloin or braised lamb shank, unless it's a daily special -- preferring to concentrate on less complicated pastas, pizzas and low-fuss appetizers. Prices are recession-friendly, and Hunt keeps his stoves burning until 1 a.m. daily. What's not to like?

Rinata isn't a reinventing-the-wheel experience; Hunt is cooking familiar, crowd-pleasing food, and he's often doing it well. Many of the appealing starters recall the kind of easygoing cocktail party fare that I'd expect to encounter from a friend who devotes their Saturday afternoons soaking up every syllable of "The Splendid Table" broadcast.

Liberally topped pizzas start with golden, chewy crusts. Salads fall in the recognizable Caesar-beet-poached pear family. A dozen pasta-risotto-gnocchi options anchor the menu. Pastas are made in-house, and Hunt covers the bases, from crescents stuffed with Gorgonzola and a bit of zesty short rib ragu to wide, rippled pappardelle with a broccoli raab and a creamy, spicy tomato sauce.

The generously portioned results can be wonderfully satisfying. Comfort-minded spaghetti, nicely toothy, is dappled with a flavorful tomato sauce and paired with dense, firm meatballs.

Still, there's rustic, and then there's sloppy, and the kitchen doesn't always seem to grasp the difference. Pizzas have just a bit too much cheese. I love any Caesar that puts garlic front and center, but the ones I sampled were downright harsh. Some flavors -- veal vs. wild boar vs. beef short ribs -- tend to run together rather than stand out.

In terms of service, the staff gets it. Well, mostly. One example: Halfway through one dinner, as our server's hand gestured toward the sea of half-eaten plates covering our table, we got the dreaded "Are we still working?" query. My cousin's genial expression immediately soured, and I knew what was coming. To his credit, his delivery wasn't wrapped in a passive-aggressive fake smile, he just told it like it was; how very un-Minnesotan of him. "No one's working here," is what he said. "This is a labor of love."

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