With a name like Nonna, a restaurant sets up certain expectations, and even before you walk in the door, you might envision your grandmother’s kitchen.  Fortunately, Nonna delivers in ways that your grandmother did – if you were lucky, that is – providing comfort, with a bit of gruffness, while satisfying you with food that makes you happy you stopped by.  Furnished in a mishmash of styles, with artifacts hanging willy-nilly, the room evokes the home of a Tuscan woman who’s kept every object given her by every grandchild.  Napkins are blue-and-white striped dishtowels while wine is poured into stemless juice glasses.  With bare wood tables and a hard-backed banquette, it’s clear that Nonna wants you to sit up straight and behave – and if you do so, then food is your reward – and very good food at that.  Arancini, for example, lightly-fried and oozing with mozzarella, with a light tomato sauce for dipping, and fried zucchini chips, as thinly-sliced as Paul Sorvino’s slices of garlic in the film GoodFellas, and sides of polenta with mascarpone and broccoli rabe with sauteed garlic and string beans puttanesca, all fresh and bursting with flavor.  With food this good, it’s not really a surprise when Paul Sorvino walks in and takes an entire table for himself.  One minor caveat: some of Nonna’s waitstaff might sometimes be mistaken for pod people.  Don’t let their zombieish attitude compromise all that’s good on your plate.  Because there’s food to be eaten at Nonna’s and as every made guy knows, it’s always good to see your grandmother.