Clearly, I live in a cave and am the only person in Santa Monica who hasn't heard of (let alone visited) Piccolo Ristorante Italiano in Venice. Not only had I not heard of the restaurant, but I couldn't even find the street it was on. How did I find out about it, you ask? A foreigner took me there. Not a non-Angeleno, but a real-life foreigner. The kind with an accent. Of course, I expressed my dismay at having to be introduced to restaurants in my area by a foreigner. I found his response troubling. Actually, I believe his exact words were, "I trump you."
Which he did. So I called him a foreigner. And he called me a xenophobe*. And then I had to ask him what that meant.
The restaurant is located on a short walking street just off of Speedway and a few steps from the beach. It’s small, only 15-20 tables, with an exposed kitchen. The wait staff is extremely friendly and attentive, without being overly so. I don't know much about Italian wines, but my dining partner did something I've heard that people do, but never actually seen done. He ordered a bottle of wine, and when the waitress poured him a taste, he sniffed and nodded. No swirl and sip; just a sniff. As far as I'm concerned, it gave him instant credibility. I'm totally going to start doing it.
Unfortunately, I can’t really say much about the food either because I wasn’t that hungry and didn’t order much. But what I did have (beet-stuffed ravioli) was delicious. Slightly sweet, slightly rich and very, very pretty! Every restaurant should have at least one dish in that same alarming shade of fuchsia.
In summary: I don't know where the restaurant is, I don't know anything about the wine list and I didn't eat much. But go to Piccolo anyways, you'll like it.
*xen-o-phobe : A person unduly fearful or contemptuous of that which is foreign, especially of strangers or foreign peoples.