SPQR, a 3-month-old restaurant on Fillmore in lower Pacific Heights, could easily find a comfortable home in Rome. The close table arrangement, which creates the aura of a convivial classic osteria, makes it feel almost rude to ignore one's neighbor. That impression is enhanced with the refurbished interior that includes dark bead-board wainscoting below a row of brass sconces, each containing a flickering candle that softly illuminates the artwork. With a long dining bar and a no-reservation policy, it's a place for a spur-of-the-moment repast.

Yet SPQR, which means "the Senate and the Roman People" and is used as an official signature of the Italian government, is strictly an American venture, imagined by the same team that opened A16, the restaurant named after the highway that runs between Rome and Naples. So maybe their choices of names are a little obscure, but the food and ambience have wide appeal.

It's clear that co-owner Shelley Lindgren nurtures a deep, abiding respect for the culture on display at this 45-seat restaurant in the former Chez Nous. I was disappointed when that small-plates pioneer closed, because I didn't think any newcomer could top it. SPQR has proved me wrong.

It says a lot about a menu when everything sounds so good that you can't decide what to order. Fortunately, the process becomes fairly easy because the pricing is so smart: All antipasti, which make up the majority of the menu, are $7 for one, $18 for three and $28 for five. At those prices, I simply had to choose five, even though the portions are generous.

These 23 appetizers are divided into categories: cold, hot and fried. You've got to love a place that has an entire section devoted to all things crispy. For the first meal, I was so excited I ordered twice as much as I should have for two people: five antipasti, followed by two pastas, a fish course and dessert. This is one Italian restaurant where you don't want to pass up the sweet ending.

I'm a fairly disciplined eater, but at SPQR I couldn't resist finishing the pinzimonio, a crudite plate with leaves of romaine, spears of cucumbers, slices of fennel and radishes fanned around a ramekin of salsa verde and a small pile of sea salt. The act of dipping, devouring and then sipping a rosé recommended by Lindgren merely stoked my appetite for the tuna conserva, which is as good as the version I remember at A16. This one is mixed with thin slices of celery, potatoes, lemon and flakes of bottarga, dried and cured fish roe, which adds a pleasantly salty seafaring undercurrent. From there I spooned into the stracciatella, the Roman version of an egg drop soup, with a deeply flavored broth, lacy swirl of egg white and generous dusting of Parmesan cheese.

I would have been content to confine my choices to the fried category, but in the spirit of balance I chose only one: crispy chunks of sweetbreads tossed with celery, garlic, oregano and a squirt of lemon. It was all I could do to refrain from ordering the chicken livers, which is one of my favorite secret pleasures, but my reward was that I had something else to look forward to on the next visit, and I wasn't disappointed.


The owners made a wise move in trading in Chez Nous' giant espresso machine for a pasta extruder in order to treat customers to fanciful shapes such as the trombette ($12). It looks like a ruffled collar of an organza blouse, tossed with spicy long-cooked broccoli and ricotta salata; it's a simple blend made special by the creaminess of the vegetable melting into the delicate pasta and the prickle of chiles that added an unexpected wake-up call. The lasagna ($13) is a hearty rendition of housemade pork sausage, tomato, three kinds of cheese, mint, parsley and arugula. In all there are about eight layers sandwiched between sheets of the house-made pasta.

The four main courses on that memorable first visit included a local calamari ($17) served as you'd expect at a coastside trattoria, the seafood casually tossed on top of garbanzo beans, capers, rapini and onions; it's old-fashioned and wonderful.

Desserts, created by Jane Tseng, may not be a focus in Italy, but they're a must-order at SPQR; the shortbread ($5) alone could bring in a fortune if it were packaged and sold. It's the color of peanut brittle, broken into big irregular chunks and filled with almonds, a cross between a cookie and candy.

Other options include a really great rice pudding with bits of pistachio and chunks of quince conserva ($7) French toast ($7) with caramelized milk, pears, shaved chocolate and a sprinkling of sea salt. Still, after a bountiful meal, nothing hits the spot like the almond milk granita ($7), as delicate as fresh snow, with a scoop of espresso crema, a soft pudding, in the middle.

Lindgren orchestrates the service, and it's smooth and caring. Dishes come out at a modulated pace; you don't feel rushed, but there's generally always something on the table to capture attention. Her fine-dining training - she worked for years at Fleur de Lys - is evident, and the casual attitude of the staff isn't at the expense of professionalism. Lindgren constantly circulates to suggest particular wines with specific dishes; in my experience she's never been wrong. Although it's a cliche, she truly treats everyone like a guest in her home.

On subsequent visits I walked (or should I say waddled) away equally impressed, by both the conviviality of the experience and the purity of the food created by Nate Appleman, who was a Chronicle Rising Star and heads up the A16 kitchen as well, and Daniel Holzman. Holzman, who is cooking at SPQR full time, has an impressive resume that includes stints at Le Bernardin in New York, and Campton Place and Fifth Floor locally.

All the dishes are inspired by Rome: Chicory salad is enhanced with the bite of lemon and a punch of anchovies; housemade pork sausage plays against mint and the cool crunch of cucumbers; roasted eggplant is served with red wine vinegar and fried bits of chiles, setting up a creamy-crunchy contrast.

Among the fried offerings, I'm still obsessed with the Brussels sprouts with caramelized bits of garlic, capers, lemon and parsley. Octopus is grilled to a delicate smokiness and served with fried chiles, lemon and crisp, browned potatoes. And I'm totally captivated by the friarelli peppers, which are flash fried and drizzled with lemon and sea salt.

Pastas are equally rustic, and among the best in the city. The daily offering could be carbonara ($12) with guanciale, eggs, black pepper and pecorino; or a simple blend of spaghetti with pecorino, garlic, olive oil and chiles. Gnocchi alla romana ($14) with pork and chanterelle ragout is what you'd expect from a nonna who has been cooking the same dish perfectly for decades.

The four or five main courses include rustic preparations such as braised lamb neck ($18), bony, chewy and utterly delicious, with a rich tomato sauce and grilled bread. There's also a beef short rib ($19) with long-cooked sauce, tasting like an old-fashioned pot roast. My favorite, however, is the whole fried game hen ($19), which needs nothing more than a squeeze of lemon and side dish of salsa verde to render it perfect.

SPQR is a restaurant that nourishes the soul (or at least gives a jaded critic a shot at one). On two visits I saw Shelley's husband, Greg Lindgren, who owns Rye and other popular bars, sitting in the restaurant with their baby; another time Appleman had his infant in tow as he stopped by to check in with the kitchen team. It's a very personal restaurant, and it makes me want to pull up a chair and join the family.


view of the restaurant, visit sfgate.com/food

The Wine List

The wine list at SPQR is a hard sell, filled with esoteric wines from all over Italy. Most diners will never have heard of grapes Verduno, Teroldego, Petite Arvine or Kerner, which are all on the by-the-glass list.

Fortunately, this impressive collection is backed up by Shelley Lindgren and her staff, who are quick to coax diners into trying something new.

Thirty wines are offered by the glass, taste or carafe, and the nearly 75 bottle selections include wines from many well-known and lesser-known regions of Italy. While the bottles are often marked up higher than normal, the staff is well informed and takes the time to educate and inform diners. The wines are also well stored and presented.

That said, it's still possible to get a really good bottle in the $20-$30 range, but I generally prefer to let Lindgren and her staff match wines with courses. It takes the guesswork out of the process, and I've never been disappointed.

If you bring your own wine, corkage is $20.

- M.B.


1911 Fillmore St. (near Pine), San Francisco: (415) 771-7779 or www.spqrsf.com.

Lunch 11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. Monday-Friday; brunch 10:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. Saturday-Sunday; dinner 5:30-10 p.m. Sunday-Wednesday, until 11 p.m. Thursday-Saturday. Beer and wine. No reservations. Credit cards accepted. Difficult street parking.



Service: Rating: THREE STARS

Atmosphere: Rating: TWO AND A HALF STARS

Prices: $$ (Moderate)

Noise rating: Noise Rating: FOUR BELLS (Can only talk in raised voices 75-80)





