Dining out: Nonna Lucia's

It took me a few minutes to "get" Nonna Lucia's, but it was worth the effort.

This new Murray eatery, the site of a former sandwich shop, confused me a bit at first.

The place is new, and it looks like a few parts of the menu meant to hang above the counter are still waiting to be installed, because the only information posted was about the combination "menus" that include full meals for one price.

What, I wondered, should I do for my kids, who don't need a dish of pasta plus a portion of meat plus a breadstick?

Luckily, the very affable fellow behind the counter, a native of Rome, was ready with explanations, enthusiasm and offers of help.

And that's when I figured out the real source of my confusion: eating at Nonna Lucia's is like going to someone's home for dinner — someone who cooks well.

Expect many ingredients from Italy. Expect your kids to be welcomed and treated like real people. Expect lots of pleasant conversation with the owner. Expect to leave full — very full of down-home, unpretentious Italian food.

I'd like to see the signs outside Nonna Lucia's altered a little, because they gave me and my mom the impression that this was some kind of "take and bake" Italian joint. It's not, though the owner made us promise that we would bake any leftovers, or saute them with a little butter in a pan, to reheat them.

"No microwave!" he said firmly, but with a smile.

There are lots of a la carte options on the menu at Nonna Lucia's, and I hope they're up on the interior walls soon to make things a little more clear to customers. You can get a single plate of pasta, pasta with bread or salad, farmer stew with pasta and salad and even sausage with bread or salad. Or you can just have a salad.

Or you can go for broke and get the "menu" combinations, which are a great value and easily feed two or three kids.

One menu offers the diner's choice of the day's pastas; meat in the form of meatballs, sausages or stew; salad; a breadstick; and a bottled drink from the cooler behind the counter. A smaller menu offers pasta, meat and bread.

Either way you're getting a lot of food. I dithered over the four pasta choices, presented in chafing dishes, until the owner kindly said I could have two half-portions. I chose the tortellini, firm and cheesy and served in cream sauce with peas and mushrooms, and the linguine arrabiata, a simply flavored tomato sauce with a spicy kick.

That would probably be enough for me, but the meal also came with my choice of meat, which in this case meant a full bowl of tender, beautifully seasoned little meatballs; a pair of plump and soft sausages; or one of two kinds of peasant-style stews.