By MERIDITH FORD
Journal Restaurant Critic

PROVIDENCE -- Here's a winning recipe:

Mix the know-how of a family that's been in the pasta-making business in Providence for more than 70 years with a menu of traditional Italian favorites. Serve in a beautifully redesigned restaurant with lots of al fresco seating.

Add the hint of a summer breeze, Italian marble and the flow of the fountain in DePasquale Plaza. Simmer for an evening.

Yield: Satisfied customers.

The Costantino family, owners of Venda Ravioli, opened Costantino's Ristorante & Caffe in June, in the space that was formerly Walter's. For the new restaurant, chef Alberto Lopez has created a simple menu of Italian favorites and serves them with flair and freshness.

It's hard for anyone who's been dining out in Providence for any length of time to imagine this oddly laid-out space -- the kitchen is downstairs, the dining room is upstairs -- as anything but Walter's. But the Costantino family has tried to erase memories of that. (Walter's has moved across the street, above its sister restaurant, Aquaviva, with plans to reopen in the middle of next month.)

The red wall of fame that graced the stairs of Walter's is now a blue-toned mural of the Italian countryside. The bar is basically in the same place, but it's been redone with pink marble imported from Italy. Showy chandeliers dangle like earrings from the ceiling of the lounge, a place that's a little too amply filled with loveseats and wing-back chairs. Muted tones of moss green, peach and gold are decoratively dizzying.

Upstairs, the space has always been a little strange, and little has been done to change that. Sitting next to the windows that overlook the plaza, I've always felt as if I have been dropped into someone's living room for the night, along with 30 other people.

But as far as the menu is concerned, that feeling is a good thing. Lopez's creations are fresh, powerfully flavored when they need to be, and combine the aura and sophistication of fine dining with the simple execution of something out of a family kitchen.

Italiano

Not surprisingly, the menu is in Italian, from antipasti to dolci. The menu descriptions are in English, though, and what they don't explain, the well-versed waitstaff will.

From a list of cold appetizers, I couldn't resist carpaccio di manzo -- a plate of thinly shaved, perfectly pink raw beef tenderloin served under a bed of some of the nuttiest-tasting, freshest arugula ever. It's drizzled lightly with an aromatic olive oil and shards of tangy, textured Parmigiano reggiano.

A dish of native baby little necks is served in a scrumptious zuppa of tomatoes -- big, brisk chunks of pomodori vigorously spiced with garlic, onions and herbs. The broth smacks deliciously of salt and sea, and I wanted -- and got -- lots more of the Tuscan bread it's served with for dipping.

A veal chop -- one of the evening's specials -- was an enormous, beautiful piece of meat. Tender, juicy, and highlighted with a rich, full-bodied Barolo wine reduction, it was stuffed with a tangy, creamy cow's milk cheese called ciambella al aglio and served with smashed potatoes and crunchy seasoned green beans.

Perusing the menu, there were plenty of things I wanted to sink my teeth into -- a fillet of sole pan-seared with lemon and almonds or a filet mignon rubbed with black truffle butter. But how could I leave without trying a pasta dish? Venda is pasta.

I found what I was looking for in a rigatoni tossed with more of the earthy arugula, now delectably wilted and tossed simply with garlic, olive oil, white wine and salty, buttery-textured prosciutto. Shavings of pungent pecorino Romano, semi-melted from the heat of the pasta, provided a tang to balance the dish's flavor.

Finishing up

Our waiter was only too happy to rattle off a long list of desserts. The classics were there -- tiramisu, cannoli, gelati -- but some more adventurous offerings made their way onto the evening's lineup as well.

One, a chocolate rum roulade (a rolled cake), is basically a smooth, dark-flavored chocolate mousse rolled in a soft, spongy chocolate cake. If rum is in it, I couldn't taste it, but I found myself not really caring.

Rarely do I order classic Sicilian cannoli for dessert; I prefer it as a mid-afternoon treat with coffee. But I had a craving for the sweet ricotta filling, here studded with tiny chocolate chips in scrumptiously crunchy cannoli shells, one dipped in chocolate, one plain.

Like the cannoli, the rest of the dishes at Costantino's are an extension of what Italian-American cooking has become and what Italian food has always been: Fresh, flavorful ingredients served simply.