Antico Nuovo

The transition from the Beverly Boulevard strip mall is immediate – you step out of the parking lot glare and past the neighboring liquor store into a room that smells heavily of almond wood smoke. Antico Nuovo operates with a kind of rustic confidence that belies its nondescript exterior in Koreatown. The dining room is dimly lit and lined with cast iron, but the energy radiates from the open kitchen, where a hand-cranked rotisserie and wood-fired hearth handle most of the heavy lifting. Chef Chad Colby’s approach here is rooted in *cucina povera* – the Italian tradition of making simple ingredients sing through time and heat. The menu changes, but the rhythm of a meal is fairly consistent. You see the focaccia land on almost every table, usually arriving hot and oily alongside ramekins of whipped ricotta or duck liver pâté. Pasta production is serious here, focusing on hyper-regional shapes like *foglie d'ulivo* (olive leaf) or tiny, pinched *plin*, rather than standard noodles. Larger plates come directly off the fire, with spit-roasted chicken, lamb shoulder, and fennel-dusted pork ribs arriving with a char that gas ovens can’t replicate. It’s a place that fills up fast, and the noise level rises as the night goes on. Most tables stick around for the end of the script: bowls of ice cream churned to order, with honeycomb and pistachio acting as the standard closers.