SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT : Famous Faces, Infamous Noise, Candied Yams and Corn Pone. We Must Be in Georgia.

I have never walked into Georgia when it was not filled with instantly recognizable celebrities. I have never walked out of Georgia when I was not hoarse from trying to shout over that incredible din. And, coming or going, I have never been to Georgia and been satisfied.

So here’s the question: Why would so many famous people go out to eat such forgettable food in such a noisy setting? Perhaps because half of them are owners.

Brad Johnson, one of the people behind the too-trendy Roxbury, put this place together with principal partners Norm Nixon (the former Laker and Clipper), Lou Adler (the music producer) and John Long (another Roxbury partner). Investors include everybody from Eddie Murphy and Denzel Washington to Connie Stevens.

When the restaurant was first announced, it sounded too good to be true. Georgia wanted to be the first local restaurant to do right by the regional foods of the South, and Johnson even announced his intention of hiring legendary Southern cook Edna Lewis as a consultant. He never did; I’d like to suggest that it’s not too late.

Lewis really loves Southern food. She remembers what food tasted like when people were still killing their own hogs for sausage and growing their own vegetables. In her cookbooks (“The Taste of Country Cooking” and “In Pursuit of Flavor”) and the restaurants in which she has worked (currently at Gage & Tollner in New York), she has insisted on being true to the honest flavors of the past. What she would make of the food served here is hard to say.

Edna Lewis’ greatest talent is making familiar food taste more wonderful than the way you remember it. Thinking of her, I found myself ordering the fried chicken. Great fried chicken is such an extraordinary pleasure that I can remember every time I’ve ever had it. The fried chicken here isn’t bad, but it certainly isn’t memorable, and it leaves you with the irritating taste of vegetable grease on your lips. It comes with collard greens (decent) and macaroni and cheese that is no better than that served at your average cafeteria. If you are going to have chicken, you’re probably better off with the oven-roasted bird: It comes with seriously delicious candied yams, corn-bread stuffing and cranberry relish--and without the burden of great expectations. Whoever heard of fabulous oven-roasted chicken?

Nobody expects too much from meat loaf either, which is a good thing; this one is comforting, in a homey sort of way, but it’s not the sort of thing you want the recipe for. Besides, it comes with unforgivably watery mashed potatoes. If you’re in the market for well-cooked meat, you’d be better off with the smothered pork chop (although it can be very dry), which comes with good corn pudding and very good applesauce with beets.

Or you might want to try the ribs, although they can be an iffy proposition. One night they were wonderful--dry-rubbed baby back ribs with good smoky flavor and just enough sauce to give them an extra kick. Another night they were gray and slightly sticky.

What you definitely do not want is fish. One night I ordered something billed as “spicy peppered grilled gulf shrimp.” I was extremely sorry. The shrimp turned out to be three monsters, in the shell, with a texture I can only describe as “fluffy” and a flavor I can only describe as nonexistent. I can’t imagine what was done to give them that texture, but I do know it wasn’t anything good. After a couple of bites, I pushed the plate away.

My next foray into Georgia’s seafood was not much happier. I ordered another “contemporary entree” (the menu is divided into “traditional” and “contemporary” dishes), “grilled salmon with key lime sauce.” A piece of fish cooked to mealiness came with two defeated asparagus lying limply across the top and some desiccated potatoes sprinkled with Old Bay seasoning. Crab cakes, on another night, were mainly mush.

Desserts at Georgia are another story. The best of them is white chocolate-grapefruit cake--layers of white cake with whipped cream, whole pieces of pink grapefruit and candied grapefruit peel; it’s a delicious surprise. There’s also a good sweet-potato pie and a decent peach cobbler (although I’ll reserve final judgment on that one until peach season rolls around).

Georgia’s got a lot going for it. The place is darkly attractive, and the service is sweet. The drinks are good. And it’s the only celebrity restaurant I can think of that is both reasonably priced and reasonably pleasant. But attention must be paid to the food.

In the beginning, there was one really wonderful dish on Georgia’s menu: the best onion rings I’ve had in Southern California. They come with the steak--big, fat rings dipped into buttermilk batter and perfectly fried. Last time I ordered the steak, the rings had dwindled into limp, bedraggled strings. Much as I hate the noise in the place, if they’d bring back the original onion rings, I’d brave the din to get them.

Of course, if Georgia could persuade Edna Lewis to come out and consult, I’d gladly eat there every night.

Georgia, 7250 Melrose Ave., Los Angeles; (213) 933-8420. Dinner served Tuesday through Sunday. Full bar. Valet parking. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $44-$70.