Small and round as a dot, our table was covered in white linen and sat before the lit fireplace, which cast both warmth and flickering shadows. It was a table meant for holding hands above or twining feet beneath, small enough to even share a strand of spaghetti a la Disney should you want to go so far.

We sampled several well-priced wines and decided on a lovely Barolo, an excellent choice for the beef tenderloin ($20) special of the evening. The steak arrived wrapped tight in a collar of crisp bacon and topped with mango and a masterful green-peppercorn sauce – which was greedily mopped up with bread after the meat disappeared.

On the other side of the snug table, the aroma of the Chicken Caponata ($13) was tantalizingly briny and winey. The wine was the Madeira sauce base and the brine from abundant capers and olives, plum tomatoes and fresh basil capping the dish.

Both meals were served with fresh-cut, sautéed vegetables that vary daily – zucchini, eggplant, peas, peppers – that impressed me as a salute to the joy of simple foods, well prepared. Later, a server in crisp white and black presented the now-almost-unheard-of dessert tray with picturesque examples of the six daily choices.

Outside the snow fell on Palmer Lake, and the dining room began to fill with couples, families and groups of friends, many greeted as regulars. This is what a rooted community restaurant feels like. This is the Villa at Palmer Lake revived.

If perhaps my evening as described sounds rosily painted, that’s because it is. Located in Palmer Lake, the Villa has a long history in the town that’s easy to romanticize.

The white stucco building with its turret entrance was the Roman Villa from 1956-78, then only Villa from 1980-2000, and its new owners, Chris and Kerri Bohler, met while working at the restaurant. After other culinary adventures, including owning another town legend, the B&E Filling Station, they’re back to revive the restaurant that was their relationship’s beginning.

My heart melts at least a drop at the poignancy, just as my mouth waters thinking about some of their dishes (like the tenderloin, which should find a place on the regular menu). The romanticism, however, hits a few snags, which knock my rose-colored glasses slightly askew.

I happily recall the orange slices served with the Steamed Mussels Marinara ($8), whose juice lit up the heady tomato broth – again, great for bread-dipping. The Seafood Risotto ($19) had a light broth that was redolent of the ocean without being at all fishy, and the mussels, shrimp and scallops were all nicely cooked.

The risotto, though? Swimming in the broth, as if the seafood missed its previous existence at sea. The bread? On one visit, fresh if plain, but on another, stale and crunchy to the core.

Similarly, the Lasagna Verde ($12) featured house sauce, cheese and spinach layers, still bubbling from the oven, and it was good. The crisp, raw curls of noodle on one end, though, highlighted the store-bought pasta and showed it was given little love or attention.

To round it off, the elegantly showcased desserts were mostly clumsy, including a cheesecake with a blackened crust topped with pre-sweetened, cloying strawberries.

The stereotypical image of an Italian grandmother in the kitchen usually sports a big smile, flour dust on her hands and sauce spatters on her apron. To me, the Villa is right in line with that image: warm and welcoming, hearty and homey, but perhaps not refined.

She’s the Penne Rustica ($12), where the sausage, mushrooms, olives, peppers and (sadly clumping) cheese are fresh but un-finessed, the ingredients feeling to me like they were tossed-in pizza toppings. Unrefined, like the thin cuts of meat, rather than a whole cutlet, in the Veal Marsala ($15) that make the veal seem a little like deli meat and therefore a little overpriced.

There’s nothing wrong with rustic and homey, nothing wrong with simple flavors. Polished up with care, however, rustic and simple could glow as brightly as the Villa’s flickering fireplace.

The romantic evening I paint did occur – does occur on a nightly basis at the Villa at Palmer Lake. From the leaf-shaped tables of the bar area to the indoor trellis in the dining room, the atmosphere is idyllic. Except for a few moments kept waiting, the servers were impeccable, possessing both the knowledge and the manners expected in white-tablecloth fine dining.

Already a gem in the Palmer Lake and Monument restaurant scene, a little polishing of the menu could make this little Italian restaurant with the big, romantic history shine brightly up and down the whole Front Range.

The exterior of the Villa at Palmer Lake Photo by Kate Jonuska

Lasagna Verde Photo by Kate Jonuska

Steamed Mussels Marinara Photo by Kate Jonuska