The usual strange bedfellows. And friends rooting for the Scottos, especially Marion, whose weave of charm and clout was the balm of Brooklyn, first for Meade Esposito and then for Howard Golden. Later, free-lancing special events with Golden's wife, Aileen, she bowed to the maxim of her mentor, Phyllis Wagner: "It's all in the details." And oh, how she obsesses over the fine points here -- one of those let's-open-a-family-restaurant whims. A relentless search for the best Tuscan bread-- "We found it in Brooklyn, of course." Choosing a pasta -- "Lattini. I never heard of it before." Commissioning art. Except for a staccato of sconces and a bright-blue fresco with vegetables floating, the dining room so far is sadly noncommittal, bright and bare, a letdown from the exuberant entry. And the crew is still green.

        But folks dropping in -- pals and curious neighbors -- are loving the food. The crisp, scorched pizza bread and savory thin pizzas. Lush and creamy polenta with chicken livers, pancetta, and rosemary. The killer penne gratin that tastes like macaroni baked for a king. And the Scotto abbondanza is disarming ("wanton abandon and abundance" is my translation). Perhaps the antipasto platter could be more creative, the calamari might boast a hint of the grill, the warm heads-on shrimp with roast potatoes, fennel, and apple ought to be a shade less expensive, but why complain when most portions are sized to feed the table?

        Even pastas ($14 to $18) and entrées ($28 to $32) meant to serve one (with aggressive midtown price tags for such a downtown homey feel) invite sharing. Just a few forkfuls of that luscious crust baked penne is excess enough for our oohing four. So a dinner of antipasto, homemade meatballs or calamari, the ravioli or obligatory penne, two entrées, and even just one $7 dessert, with wine and designer water, could run $150. But once you get the drift and order what two can actually eat, the total relaxes. (Sometimes I get the feeling price means more to me than to most New Yorkers, too macho or farsighted ever to glance at the check.)

        "I wanted all my children in one town at the same time," Marion Scotto explains. She lured Anthony junior home from California with a promise to back his restaurant. When she saw the tab, she decided to be a partner instead, and mortgaged the house in Brooklyn. "My husband and friends were hysterical." Now every day is Mother's Day-- Anthony and Elaina at the door, and Channel 5 newscaster Rosanna stopping by almost every night. John, the lawyer, is still in California. But not for long, Marion believes. As for the chef, Vincent Scotto (no relation, just sheer coincidence), from Al Forno in Providence: He may be just 26, but he's been at this since 14. The Italian lesson you get if you're put on hold when you telephone was his idea.

        Calabrian-born, raised on the Neapolitan cooking of Brooklyn, Marion fell in love with the food of Tuscany on a family vacation, "everything grilled." As did her brood. But Fresco is not exactly Tuscan…it's New York with a crush on Tuscany. Ginger in the clams, grilled filet of tuna with "macaroni pie." It's a perspective refreshed by the culinary competition of our town. As in arugula tossed with white beans under shavings of pepper pecorino with fabulous little polenta "croutons."

        Start with sausage, Fontina, and plum tomatoes in a fennel crust, or a big bowl of soup (white bean and sweet potato with pancetta, perhaps). Half-orders of pasta fit in where you please: tagliolini with lobster ragu, giant ravioli pockets of mashed potato with sage and brown butter, or the rigatoni of the day -- perhaps garlic and broccoli rabe or eggplant and fresh tomatoes (curiously bland in an early tasting, needing a hit of balsamic vinegar to wake it up). Lamb shank braised in red wine comes on polenta with roasted shallots. Escarole and a splendid gratin of eggplant, mashed potatoes, tomato sauce, and Fontina grace the veal chop. Crusty moist chicken nests on bruschetta stuffing with roasted garlic and a troop of grilled vegetables.

        Many of these dishes reappear at lunch (same prices) with a pasta salad of the day, grilled bread salad, and a sandwich, possibly the wonderful rare tuna club with pancetta, arugula, and shaved ginger.

        Rustic apple cake with cinnamon ice cream and sweetly honeyed ricotta fritters are the best of the desserts (each listed with a suggested after-dinner drink). Need just a hint of sweet? The ice-cream-and-cookie plate could satisfy three or four.

34 East 52nd Street  212 935-3434

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