I cancelled dinner plans with a friend several weeks back because I wasn't feeling well. Before we got a chance to reschedule, she emailed, gently chastising me for heading to Stella Neighborhood Trattoria without her.

Becky Stein/special (ENLARGE)
Fritters ala Stella
Becky Stein/special (ENLARGE)
Arugula salad with parmigiano in lemon vinaigrette.
Becky Stein/special (ENLARGE)
Baked cheesecake
Becky Stein/special (ENLARGE)
Dine on the patio.
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"You cancel on me and then show up in my 'hood without a word?" was her condemnation.

For a city of such sprawl, Atlanta has a vibrant sense of neighborhood. Stella, opened by Rich Chey of HomeGrown Restaurant Concepts (Doc Chey's Noodle House and Osteria 832 Pizza and Pasta), is on the outskirts of Grant Park, bordering Cabbagetown and nestled neatly into a slick new mixed-use building across from historic Oakland cemetery. Old doesn't merely meet with new in this area, one of the city's oldest. It crashes into it.

Modern, clean and linear, new construction looks oddly placed here; a new neighbor nobody knows enough about, but welcomes anyway.

Stella seems most certainly welcome — even on weekday nights the restaurant can be crowded. Families and friends from the area flock here for that simple brand of Italian-American cooking which, like the neighborhood, is familiar. Like its sister Osteria, Stella fits in without standing out — the definition of a fine neighborhood restaurant.

Other definitions? The menu is short but sweet, has a few signature dishes (like the "fritters alla Stella:" crunchy, panko encrusted cod-and-potato fritters with a smear of aioli and spicy siracha that taste far more Portuguese than Italian) and there's a limited but affordable wine list. A family of four could easily eat here without breaking into future college funds. And Stella could be counted on for a pre-movie snack— the service is usually pretty snappy and there's enough small plates, like a fresh arugula salad in a bright lemon vinaigrette with shards of Parmesan, or bruschetta topped simply with olive oil and tomatoes, to save room for popcorn and an Icy.

Rarely does the kitchen over reach, though entrees are where it falls short when it does. Eggplant Parmigiana is a load of eggplant, tomatoes and lots of gooey, stringy cheese over spaghetti, but the dish is hardly exceptional. Chicken piccata is downright boring; even with capers and wine, it needs some omph.

The pizzas are far more interesting, but then they usually are. Thin-crusted with a whole wheat dough, cremini mushrooms and some added prosciutto are hard to argue with. Stella keeps things simple with offerings of sausage, pepperoni and margherita pizzas, with add-ons like more mozz, prosciutto and sliced red onions.

Pastas are a bit of a toss up between a sweet signature of baci (which means kiss in Italian), but here "little purses" filled with four types of soft cheese in an old-fashioned pink vodka sauce. The dish is traditionally sweet from cheese, cream and tomatoes and this one tasted as if I had crashed a party at an Elks lodge in Jersey and found myself on the receiving end of the buffet line. In other words, perfect. But scampi was fishy and flat – the shrimp seemed frozen, with no flavor; the pasta an afterthought.

With rustic, sparse furnishings of dark wood and a large outdoor patio, Stella offers pleasant surroundings, but hardly flourishes in the décor department. Like the menu, the digs follow the same humble, what-you-see-is-what-you-get philosophy. About the only thing pretentious about the place is the occasional menu note of "artisan garlic parsley linguine," or the use of EVOO, which should be banned forever from the vernacular.

Desserts are an area of the menu that need the most work — though the cannoli actually tasted as if the shells where hand-made, filled with chocolate ricotta. But these sweet shells aren't always available. The tiramisu is like every other tiramisu on the planet – how many times can we eat sponge cake loaded with mascarpone and coffee and not tire of it? And I'd love to see a traditional big sloppy spoonful of it instead of the perfect squares of cake like the kind Stella offers. Cheesecake made like custard in a small iron skillet has some potential, though its creaminess curdles a little from the heat of the pan.

Stella rarely ventures into unknown territory, though. It is exactly what it says it is — a neighborhood trattoria. And for this neighborhood, it's a welcome addition.

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