Change Isn’t on the Menu at San Diego’s Venerable Old Trieste

The brouhaha of the election and its winds of change, such as they may be, suggested a return visit to one of the few San Diego restaurants that seems immune to change.

Old Trieste, a Gibraltar among local eateries, may not really be The Place That Time Forgot, but it does seem like an oasis of yesterday, a serene haven amid the blare and clatter of restaurants that come and go with the shifting tides.

A call the other day to owner Tommy Tomicich elicited the instant information that the restaurant, a Morena Boulevard landmark, had as of that moment been in business for 25 years, 5 months and 26 days. Tomicich, known universally as Tommy and a man who evidently keeps close track of time, then clarified the issue by saying that Old Trieste opened for business on May 15, 1963. Except for the prices, it doesn’t seem to have changed a hair since my first visit in the summer of that year.

Old Trieste reputedly is a favored haunt of judges and automobile dealers, although its clientele probably encompasses a fair portion of the city’s Establishment. Tommy said 90% of his customers have been regulars since the restaurant opened and added that business is steady and consistent, although some of the old faces now are dropping out of sight. But it’s safe to say that almost all of them have, over the years, sat in each and every one of the 10 spacious banquettes, which certainly have not been reupholstered and feature an increasingly shiny trompe l’oeil vinyl printed to give the illusion of being tufted.

Service of Old School

By the same token, most of the customers are known by name to the staff, which includes several who have worked in the dining room or kitchen for nearly 20 years. Suffice it to say that the service is of the old school--polite, unobtrusive, efficient and ever so satisfactory.

A pleasing air of formality, tempered by San Diego sensibilities, hangs over the restaurant like the bouquet of a long-cellared Port. This is the restaurant that, when women’s pantsuits came into vogue in the early 1970s, refused to admit women wearing them, and only relented when several shed their trousers at the door and described the remaining tunics as dresses. Old Trieste no longer requires neckties, but it still demands jackets, another comfortable throwback to other times.

The menu barely has changed since the early days, although a dish called Nino’s Special eventually vanished after chef Nino left to open his own establishment.

The general thrust is Italian, with considerable qualifications: Tommy comes from Trieste, a city on the northern Adriatic about 50 miles from Venice that was in the Austro-Hungarian Empire until the end of World War I. There are Venetian influences in the Old Trieste cooking, such as the white wine deglazing sauces and the common garnishes of mushrooms and tiny green peas. Tomatoes, a scarce commodity in the Trieste area during Tommy’s youth, make exceedingly few appearances on the menu. Garlic similarly is used with restraint, while escarole, which we tend to regard as a lettuce but which in Venice often masquerades as a vegetable, turns up in a couple of guises.

Old Trieste, like one or two vanished Italian houses that catered to something of the carriage trade (the old Pernicano’s Casa di Baffi comes to mind), makes a specialty of fine meats and long enjoyed a reputation for its butter-tender filet mignon, both broiled and finished in several Northern Italian styles. The list of longstanding entrees also includes several veal scallop preparations, spicy lobster fra diavolo , a notably creamy chicken cannelloni and daily fish served either broiled or in marinara sauce. None of these were sampled on a recent visit.

Pale Imitations

This restaurant may have started the one-time San Diego restaurant cliche of offering fried sliced zucchini as a snack. Most offered pale imitations of the Old Trieste real thing, which arrive smoking from the deep fat moments after the guests have been seated. Lightly coated with a breading that includes Parmesan cheese, the slices are thin and crisp, and as irresistible as fresh potato chips.

Because entrees are large and include a choice of soup or salad, the menu limits its appetizer offerings to sauteed chicken livers and the house version of shrimp prepared scampi-style (scampi, large shrimp-like crustaceans, come from the end of the Adriatic that once was Tommy’s back yard). If one likes livers at all, this dish is hard to pass by, and if the party includes two liver-lovers, by all means share a plate. Finished with elegant restraint, these were tender and exquisite, cooked until just barely done and finished with a white wine sauce that incorporated the pan juices along with a little onion and a cargo of peas and sliced mushrooms. Liver is a favorite in Venice, and this is one of several popular methods of preparation.

The house salad was typically Italian, which is to say very fresh but quite austere in its seasoning; then again, the austerity makes a suitable prelude to the more lively flavors of the entrees. The day’s soup happened to be escarole in chicken broth, a novelty hereabouts and a very pleasant change of pace. The top-quality broth included nuggets of the bird that gave it substance, and the escarole, tender and rich in the manner of Swiss chard and kale, lent a vibrantly bitter note.

Wealth of Mushrooms

The entrees were surprisingly uneven. Veal scallops in Marsala, a much-abused classic, came off wonderfully well; like many Italian dishes, this one is exceedingly simple and requires nothing but the best ingredients and close attention during preparation. Thin slices of tender veal were sauteed, garnished with a wealth of sliced mushrooms and finally doused with the pan juices extended with a bit of Marsala. All the flavors were in place and accounted for.

A second veal dish was somewhat disappointing, however. Called Miro’s Special, this consisted of scaloppine, stuffed sandwich-style with cheese and prosciutto ham and then floured and crisped in a hot saute pan. The prosciutto may have been part of the problem. This savory, long-cured raw ham does not appear elsewhere on the menu, and may not be in frequent demand, but, even though prosciutto is supposed to be aged, this seemed rather too long in the tooth. In addition, while the dish may have been quite elegant when first introduced, it was like similar but inferior preparations that turn up in many places these days, including school cafeterias.

Interestingly enough, Old Trieste has escaped the pasta-ization of San Diego menus. Meals do include a side dish of rigatoni in a light tomato sauce, as they have since the restaurant’s doors first opened. It is a good, reliable pasta, and, if it seems rather staid and old-fashioned, that is the point--it is as good an emblem as any of the remarkable continuity of style and tradition that persist at Old Trieste.

OLD TRIESTE

2335 Morena Blvd., San Diego

276-1841

Lunch served Tuesday-Friday, dinner Tuesday-Saturday; closed Sundays and Mondays

Credit cards accepted

Dinner for two, including a moderate bottle of wine, tax and tip, about $70 to $100.