At Mama Cucina, it’s all about the South—of two nations

If you think about it, the culture surrounding Southern American food and Southern Italian food isn't all that different. Family-style portions, simple ingredients and an emphasis on homemade can be found just as easily in places praising fatback as those serving fettuccini.

I just never expected to see aspects of both cuisines' cultures married so cozily in one, easily overlooked storefront in a Glen Allen shopping center.

Mama Cucina, tucked between Dairy Queen and Capital Ale House, has been serving gargantuan portions of authentic Italian fare for ages, but despite it being recommended to me many times by many varied palates, I'd never been.

Better late than never, so I dragged three hungry dining companions with me to explore the options.

Honestly, I was expecting just another Americanized Italian restaurant specializing in spaghetti and meatballs and all-you-can-eat garlic knots.

So wrong I was.

Mama Cucina's layout is oddly cozy.A salad- and dessert-filled deli case sits between a pseudo-bar and a tall metal cart loaded up with clean plates. Tables are spaced so tightly you may inadvertently become part of neighboring diners' conversations.

A well-worn floral border rings the top of the dining-room walls, accented with a clutter of hanging sauté pans, a wooden wine rack and haphazard picture frames.

Not exactly ambience, but welcoming nonetheless.

The wine list ($6.95-$7.25 a glass, $19.50-$35.50) is small, but each table's copy is taped to a wine bottle doing double duty as a centerpiece -- a tiny accent I found charming.

Our server was no-nonsense, wanting appetizer and dinner orders all at once while barely registering a smile. However, she was efficient throughout, so we had no complaints.

We started with shrimp and prosciutto ($8.95), unexpectedly presented on a huge, oval platter brimming with scampi sauce alive with lemon and garlic. Five perfectly cooked jumbo shrimp were topped with prosciutto, a gooey layer of mozzarella and lightly browned bread crumbs. I thought the toppings would be smothering, but the flavors harmonized beautifully.

Mama Cucina's entrees are divided into chicken, veal, fish, pork and pasta. Notably, the menu notes that nothing is frozen, meats and fish are cut on the premises and mozzarella is made in-house.

In fact, the best part of Chicken Calabrezo ($14.25) was the three thick slices of mozzarella topping the Mount Everest-sized portion of penne. I found the chicken itself to be bland, but the garlic-white wine tomato sauce was wonderful -- chunky and not too sweet.

Even better was Fuscilli Sausage Broccoli ($14.75), a cavernous bowl of spiral shaped pasta, spinach, broccoli and a light yet spicy marinara. Huge, bias-cut chunks of homemade sausage were out of this world, packed with an adventurous mix of outspoken spices.

Venetian Scallops ($17.95) were surprisingly disappointing. While we couldn't keep our bread out of the light cream sauce, the generous portion of bay scallops and clams tasted unpleasantly fishy. Artichoke hearts and Parmesan helped distract from the off flavor, but not by much.

On the other hand, I was still craving Mama Cucina's Veal Saltimbocca ($16.99) three days after our meal. Hefty piles of spinach were packed between thick-sliced prosciutto and melted mozzarella on each of the three wonderfully tender pieces of veal. Sliced mushrooms and shallots gave the light wine sauce a robust punch.

Had we tried to conquer dessert, I think I might have exploded. Unless you want leftovers, I suggest going for the $3.50 extra plate charge and sharing. If you're tired of Americanized Italian restaurants bedecked in faux grapes and cartoony murals of Venice and Rome, check out Mama Cucina. It's Southern Italian-meets-Southern hospitality vibe is anything but clichéd.