Datebook Diner: Tiny Marino's fits taste for Italian

The interior of Marino's. (Credit: DOUG WELLS/THE REGISTER)

When Benjamin Franklin wrote, "Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead," he aptly described how difficult it is to keep a good restaurant under wraps.

When a serious diner finds restaurant treasure, it's difficult not to hoard the spoils. The rationalizations with which she gilds her selfishness flow like chianti: What if they get so busy that they're forced to get a microwave? What if an onslaught of unappreciative oafs makes the owners' livelihood a living hell? And, ultimately, what if spreading the news means never again stepping into the dining room and feeling smitten?

But as a good soul was kind enough to share this little gem with me, I must also pass it on.

Space: Tucked into a dated strip mall and devoid of curb appeal, this tiny trattoria is easy to miss. But its nondescript front door opens to reveal an interior that both cheers and charms.

Intimate little booths, red-and-white checkered tablecloths, bead-board wainscoting, kitschy knickknacks and Frank Sinatra crooning in the background all combine to create a quintessential Mom and Pop dinner spot.

Then there's a sight to behold: through an open passageway, an artisan at work, a mustached Italian patting and stretching dough as lovingly as a papa diapering a baby.

Service: Service is perfunctory, nothing more and nothing less. Food is done when it is done, feathers don't easily ruffle and a certain single-paced serenity reins. Service style is quietly friendly - and just what we need.

In a restaurant that not only allows diners to bring their own wine, but supplies red plastic tumblers to drink it from, there is just no reason to rush.

Menu: Mario Batali does not cook here. Don't expect upscale dishes, esoteric ingredients or artful presentation. Instead, relax and relish everyman fare, southern-Italian style.

Pastas are sauced with a perfect blend of rich, fresh-tasting tomato and zesty herbs. Italian sausage, tender and sweet, tastes as though it's simmered in milk instead of sauteed in its own fat. Mozzarella is ample, gooey and salty. Pizza crust and bread sticks are yeasty, chewy and irresistible.

Be sure to try: Takeout. Baked pasta dishes, straight from the oven, are generous, 9-inch casserole dishes of bubbling goodness and an incredible value.

Bottom line: Family-owned restaurants like this are becoming endangered. Fortunately, helping them flourish is a delicious and worthwhile task.

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