His clams casino are among the best I've had, the light chopped-clam filling tingling with peppers and Tabasco spice. His fresh calamari are delicate and crispy. And his veal Amore is a satisfying breaded cutlet topped with house-made mozzarella, greens and tomatoes. That mozzarella is one of the best features on brick-oven pizzas like the margherita. But there are other intriguing variations, like peppery broccoli rabe and sausage, or "white" with Taleggio, oregano and olive oil.

But my favorite dish was the "mare & mondo," an Abruzzese spaghetti with littleneck clams and cubed zucchini in a white-wine broth. The combination was deceptively plain, but the simple addition of fresh bay leaves lent the broth a vivid herbal edge that, days later, I could still taste.

Chef Vola's

For a taste of Italian American history that remains unmistakably genuine, travel a few blocks from the Hilton to Chef Vola's. Of course, finding it is no easy task, as this 87-year-old institution resides in the basement of an unmarked Victorian house on a tiny side street. But even if you do, getting one of its 12 tables during high season is next to impossible. (Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays are already booked for the summer.)

With such demand, it's no wonder people put up with a reservation ritual that feels like cracking a secret code. The phone number is unlisted (though widely available online). And if you're not a regular, you'll be asked: "Who do you know?"

I name-dropped some acquaintances for a late-night Tuesday table (thanks, Bruce and Andy!). I bought my bottles (it's BYO). I brought loads of cash. (Credit cards? Are you kidding?) And I prepared to be disappointed. How could any place live up to such hype?

Well, I'd do it again.

Owners Michael and Louise Esposito, who bought Chef Vola's in 1982, inherited the mystique from the longtime previous owner and were reluctant to change what works. Newcomers are welcome if there's space, Louise insists, but the reference filter helps reduce no-shows in a town where gamblers can become forgetful.

I can't imagine the lucky streak that would keep me from a platter of Michael Sr.'s addictive veal sausage, with fennel-flecked links nestled beneath peppers and mushrooms. And then there is possibly the world's biggest crab cake, a colossal dome of sweet crustacean so fluffy it's almost a soufflé.

There were a couple of disappointments from the long list of specials, like the unwieldy kitchen-sink cacciatore called chicken scarpinata and the overcooked chicken arrabiata.

But mostly, this kitchen served memorable renditions of the classics, from the amazingly tender mince of surf clams in garlicky white sauce atop angel hair, to one of the finest veal Milaneses I've eaten, a tender rib chop pounded flat and crisped beneath fresh salad. The two-inch-thick flounder Francaise topped with fistfuls of lump crab was like eating a crispy cloud of fresh fluke.

And then, of course, there are the 21 desserts Louise bakes herself, from various cheesecakes to the ice-box banana cream pie. As I slowly savored the fluffy coconut cheesecake crusted with pecans and walnuts, I looked up to the wall behind me to see a signed portrait of the Chairman himself. It read: "To Louise, I love you. Uncle Frank."

Now that's an endorsement for Chef Vola's that I can second.

Pinziminio Trattoria

The grandest new dining room down the Shore can be found in Brighton Beach, where Pinziminio's prow-shaped building presides over a sunset view like a ship moored on Long Beach Boulevard.

This was a gourmet market by the same name until February, when co-owner Karen Spinelli and her fiance-partner, Jim DeGilio, converted it into a restaurant. But it's essentially a third try for Pinziminio as a restaurant, as Spinelli had previous trattoria locations in Beach Haven and Cherry Hill before returning to L.B.I. to start the market.

The store was popular in season, Spinelli said, but she's hoping the restaurant will become a year-round success. And this new dining room was certainly created to impress, with a curved mahogany staircase that leads up to a room with soaring ceilings and a chocolate-brown decor that has a certain urban chic.

Both Spinelli and DeGilio, a former owner of the Zagara's markets, were trained at the Culinary Institute of America. But their kitchen's upscale takes on Italian cooking indulge combinations that sometimes seem overwrought.

The house Pinziminio sauce, for example, is a smush of a puttanesca and a caponata (minus the eggplant) that on its own seems convoluted. As an all-purpose sauce for chicken, fish or pasta, though, its piquant, spicy, salty and sweet currant notes keep things interesting enough. A simple pesto, likewise, gets distractingly complicated with the addition of spicy cherry peppers. But as a crust for fish, it was an effective mute to the soapy flavor of the striped bass that sat in (unannounced) for the usual black bass, and which, at $32, was overpriced.