La Veranda has been a fixture on Columbus Boulevard for about 14 years now. It’s always been popular, but lately when you mention it, the answer will invariably be, “Gee, I’d forgotten all about that place, and we used to like it so much.” Other restaurants open, everybody adopts their new favorites, it is a bit off the beaten track, and so it goes.

Well, last week I went back and found things very much the same, which is a good thing. Although it is under new management, La Veranda still has the air of an old-fashioned Italian restaurant in New York, where the waiters wear tuxedos and the furnishings are ornate and heavy. One thing that does lighten things up is the window-wall that gives onto the Delaware. In daylight, sunlight sparkles on the water and ships pass by. By night, the bridges wear jeweled necklaces, and if you're lucky, there's a moon. You still walk in and pass the bar on the left, and a woodburning oven to the right, with a display of antipasti and the fish of the day for your inspection.

The dining room is rosy: red-tiled floors and deep red paisley walls and drapes, and of course, that view. The wine list is a big commercial book, probably prepared by a distributor, with an impressive selection of wines, mostly Italian, with prices to match. Tucked into one corner, I find a Corton Charlemagne for $75 -- can this be possible? Strangely, there are no vintages listed, so we have a Chianti from Antinori, which is always safe. We decide on the Antipasto Della Casa that feeds the entire table, with grilled eggplant, tomatoes, peppers, mushrooms, onions and slices of frittata. With only a gloss of olive oil, the vegetables have a dark, otherworldly sheen, and they are both crunchy and tender. One daily special is Malpeque oysters that arrive on a bed of ice, and are sweet and fresh. Grilled calamari is not at all tough despite the crispy edges, and nibbling it is very pleasant. The only disappointment in the entire meal is another special: tuna carpaccio. It comes in paper-thin slices, translucent and pink, but has no flavor. It could be meat, it could be fish, although it lacks that saline whisper. I defy anyone at my table to identify it, and no one can. The tossed salad that accompanies it has more flavor.

But the pastas -- they are another story. From the lengthy list we choose three, which the chef divides for us, so that we may all have a taste. Spaghetti alla carbonara is one of my favorites, done with Italian country bacon and egg that just coats the noodles; penne all'arrabbiata with the "angry" tomato sauce spiced with hot peppers; and pillowy gnocchi in a rich sauce of gorgonzola and mascarpone. The mascarpone tames the salt of the gorgonzola, and makes the sauce extra creamy. All these sauces are mopped up with the home-baked country bread, but there are still entrees to be eaten.

A heaping platter of langoustine arrives (another special) and we enjoy these giant shrimp, the glory of the Italian coast, by pulling out the sweet meat and sucking on the grilled shells, making a general mess of ourselves. But they are so good and really not much work at all. All the fish are listed at market price, and there are four from the Mediterranean -- orata, bronzino, San Pietro and turbot. We select a fine bronzino (the new "in" fish) to be baked in salt crust. They don't present it and go through the drama of cracking the shell with a hammer, as some restaurants do, but it comes already filleted, with just some lemon juice. Bronzino is a delicate fish and should only be treated this way. The platters of emerald green broccoli rabe and roasted potatoes that are served family style are perfect foils for the tender fish.

An osso buco con funghi e piselli is simply a humble veal shank cooked with mushrooms and peas, but it literally melts on the fork and flies off the plate -- that's how light but rich it is. The beefsteak (a porterhouse) for one will easily serve two, and it is done in the Florentine style, with just a lashing of olive oil and some onions cooked in balsamic vinegar. It is superb, sliced thin and rare and with a good bone for gnawing. Obviously, the meats here are as good as the fishes. We completely ignore the other meat offerings, which are sizeable -- rack of lamb with mint and cognac sauce, roasted baby pork or veal chop stuffed with mozzarella, spinach and ham. We are so full at this point that it's hard to think of what we didn't have.

Dessert is an afterthought -- just crème brlée, chocolate mousse cake, banana chocolate pie, tiramisu and Italian rum cake, which is the only thing we try. It is not a cake, but more like a pie, with a rum layer and lots of whipped cream, and it is really good. A bowl of complimentary fruits and cookies appears too, and though we applaud the gesture, we are too stuffed to honor it properly. It has been a terrific meal, and there are a number of doggie bags leaving with us.

Fabrizio Pace, the executive chef, obviously knows his crowd. There is nothing new or innovative on this menu, and it is far from cheap, but it is geared to people who know their food, and want it to be the same, visit after visit, time after time. That's OK with me, for I love the dependability of things done over again. And the service is hard to beat.