Picture a 6-year-old boy helping in the kitchen, or perhaps running errands, at Dante & Luigi's, one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city. (My father used to take me there for sautéed calf's brains, and said that Dante's was as close to traditional southern Italian as you could get.) Picture this boy growing to manhood and waiting tables at the restaurant, by then a familiar face to Dante's devotees. An Albanian fellow, Ramazan Hima, joins the restaurant. They become friends. Picture the two of them, with their ethnic roots, dreaming of opening their own place. Now, fast-forward to a tiny storefront on 16th Street between Locust and Spruce, and you can see their dream come true in La Viola.

Domenick Oriolo (the former 6-year-old boy) greets us with a smile. On a bitterly cold Tuesday evening, the restaurant is packed. Too packed, for we are sausaged between two other tables so tightly that I begin to feel as if I were flying on the world's worst economy class. And the noise! We give up any thought of conversation and turn to the menu.

The appetizers appear to be pretty standard fare -- a variety of salads (including a Caesar), grilled mushrooms, mussels, roasted peppers, grilled calamari. Through the din, we hear Oriolo recite the daily specials. Surveying the bread and olive oil and balsamic vinegar dip he has placed on the table, we wonder whether to partake or to wait, for the portions of our neighboring diners are enormous. Our minds are made up when one salad arrives, arugula and sprinkles of goat cheese in a lemony dressing. It's crisp and bright and tangy, and there is a lot of it. The same mixture is featured with caramelized pears, and it seems a good bet as well. The soup du jour, chicken stracciatella, literally chicken soup with "rags" in it, is perfect for a winter night. The stock is very rich and hearty with diced carrots and spinach, and nuggets of chicken floating along with the strands of eggs that, beaten into the soup, form the "rags."

By the time we finish our soup, the crowd is beginning to thin out, headed for concerts and theaters, and we're not only able to talk but can check out our surroundings. La Viola is very spare, but the low-lit sconces soften the white stucco walls, whose only decoration is a few well-placed paintings. The dark wooden chairs are reminiscent of the schoolroom -- and about as comfortable.

Among the interesting pastas, we find linguine pizzaiola -- a perfectly done homemade noodle in a rather amazing sauce composed of slivers of veal, bound in a thick marinara sauce studded with capers and olives. It is hot and spicy enough to be an arrabiata (angry) sauce, but much thicker and more pungent. A very satisfying dish, as is the daily special of dense squid ink pasta bathed in sauce that tastes and smells like the sea, and is starred with mussels, shrimp and calamari. This combination is available with risotto as well, and my neighbor devours an order of ravioli stuffed with lobster that is beautifully russet and rich. All the pastas are homemade by chef Pedro Beldran, and they have that resiliency that only fresh pasta contains.

We brought with us a bottle of Argentinian Malbec, a dark, brooding wine that is perfect with these highly seasoned dishes. A companion opts for vitello alla Viola; sautéed tenders of veal, prosciutto and mushrooms in a thick, earthy brown sauce that is redolent with the flavor of mushrooms. The veal is exceedingly tender, more tender than the veal cutlet used in the vitello pomodoro, which is just a tad too chewy and overcooked. But it's nicely blanketed in a light marinara sauce topped with mozzarella cheese and fresh tomato slices, and I like the fact that the sauce does not taste at all like the sauce on the pasta --obviously it's original for this particular dish. All in all, the meats are fine, though the fish selection is fairly sparse. Our plates are heaped with not only the entrees, but crisply sautéed zucchini and squares of good polenta. My veal is, in fact, larger than the perimeter of the plate.

By dessert, about 8:30, the crowd of theatergoers, Curtis Institute students and followers of Oriolo's from Dante's thins out considerably. Consider this before you book a table here. And you really should, and not just because the homemade desserts are so good. The zabaglione arrives over fresh strawberries, in a tall goblet, eggy and creamy, tinged with Marsala wine. I usually find this dessert too gloppy, but this one is restrained enough to be just right. The tiramisu is also fresh-tasting and rich with mascarpone and coffee drizzles and cocoa on top. I'll wager that the ricotta cheesecake and chocolate mousse are equally good. The staff, made up of Italian-speaking young men, is extremely solicitous (though I do think that when you call for a table they should tell you to bring wine -- I asked -- and that it's cash only).

Like several other new Italian restaurants that have opened quietly around the city, La Viola is a BYOB, and not painful on the pocket; we're seeing something like the Italian culinary invasion of Greenwich Village in the '50s. It's most welcome. La Viola is a pleasant refuge on a frigid evening or any evening for that matter. Just remember curtain time.