Magnolia doesn't really feel like part of the city I live in. Away from the aggressive hipness, say, of Ballard and Capitol Hill, sweet Magnolia comes across as a drowsy suburban community where librarians live and the PTA meets and hedges are trimmed on a regular basis.

Last year I stumbled across the Limelight Café, looking perfectly out of place across from a TV repair shop and the Magnolia Accident and Injury Center. It was like someone's cozy cottage; soft, yellow light spilled out its windows night after night, like a beacon of urbane elegance in a dark sea of pizza delivery and sweatpants-friendly family restaurants. The Zagat guide gushed about Limelight's "classy" eclectic menu, featuring gourmet jambalaya and spinach-hazelnut cannelloni. It's THAT kind of place, I thought, precious and cute and very Martha. Was someone trying to bring Belltown to Magnolia?

But I was curious. I finally showed up for dinner, expecting lots of fuss and "fusion"; expecting architecture on a plate.

But as it turns out, Limelight had quietly passed on, and Magnolia Ristorante slipped into its place about five months ago. Dollhouse aesthetics and Eclectic Cuisine had been replaced by a plainer exterior (and nearly nondescript interior) and a focused menu of Italian favorites. Disappointed, I almost left; except I was starving, and my dinner companion--a fellow food geek and a seasoned writer whom I often refer to as the Smartest Girl in the World--started chatting in Italian with the owner, who seemed to be physically incapable of not smiling. At this point, I was charmed. Plus there was veal on the menu. (I know many disagree... but if lovin' a juicy hunk of veal is wrong, then I don't wanna be right.)

As soon as SGW and I dove into house antipasto ($7) and carpaccio de manzo ($9), it was clear we had made a good choice. The antipasto was simple, confident, superbly marinated: olive-oil-and-balsamic-drenched roasted peppers, eggplant, artichoke hearts, and olives were arranged with slices of cheese, prosciutto, and mildly cured salami, all assertively garlicky. The carpaccio, resplendent with freshness and a buttery texture, was a purist's ideal (thin slices of marbled raw beef tenderloin were adorned with shaved parmigiano, capers, cracked pepper, lemon juice, and olive oil). Being huge fans of brine and vinegar, we would've been content to just drink red wine and eat salty, satiating appetizers all night long.

Our main courses were pleasant, but a bit lackluster after the aggressive flavors from before. SGW's veal scaloppine picatta ($17) was good--pounded thin, browned nicely, quite tender--and pleasingly tart, thanks to lemon, capers, and white wine. But the accompanying vegetables and roasted potatoes felt obligatory and uninspired, anticlimactic after such deliciousness.

I could've chosen venison ravioli or lasagne bolognese with fennel sausage (both $14), seafood risotto ($17), or even a grilled New York steak with rosemary and Gorgonzola ($21); it all sounded amazing, but I went with the osso buco special ($20). The flavorful lamb shank fell off its bone with a single poke from my fork, proof of patient braising with good stock and no shortcuts. But again, the side of penne in red sauce, although tasty, was sort of an awkward fit. I would have loved some creamy risotto instead.

Our desserts were ordered accidentally (SGW murmured something in Italian, and the next thing we knew...), but ended up being the most interesting part of dinner. Diced kiwi sat in clean dessert dishes, awaiting a frothy mixture of egg yolk, sugar, and Frangelico (a hazelnut liqueur), which our kind waiter whisked in a copper bowl over a portable flame at our table.

The result was ethereal, what I imagine eating sweetened clouds to be like. The appearance of zabaglione on our table is reminiscent of the "foam" trend (artichoke foam, lobster foam, etc.) that swept Manhattan kitchens last year: a light and whipped appearance with robust flavor--filling your mouth one minute, gone the next. There is something so satisfying about eating luxurious and fattening food, only to have it evaporate instantly on your tongue. So sexy, so unexpected, like a librarian's lingerie.

Magnolia Ristorante

3656 34th Ave W (at Emerson St), 282-1282. Lunch 11:30 am-2:30 pm (Sat-Sun brunch 9 am), dinner 5-10 pm; closed Mondays.