CARVING CHIPS OFF OLD BLOCK

Orleans Bayou, 11705 National Blvd., Los Angeles. (213) 479-4187. Open 11:30 a.m.-1:30 p.m., Monday-Friday and 4:30 p.m.-1:30 a.m. daily. Valet parking. American Express, Visa and MasterCard accepted.

La Famiglia Piccola, 455 N. Canon Drive, Beverly Hills. (213) 278-3395. Open for lunch and dinner Monday-Saturday. Valet parking. American Express, Visa and MasterCard.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a single restaurant must be in need of a new one. A single restaurant is simply not enough these days: everyone is eager for another. That, in any case, is one possible explanation for the sudden spate of restaurant offspring that are popping up all over the city.

There’s another explanation, of course. “I thought I was in the restaurant business,” a restaurateur commented recently, “but then I realized I was actually in the creative product and distribution business.” He talked about “competing for the consumer’s appetite” and concluded that the successful competitor doesn’t sell what he likes: he sells what sells. According to this entrepreneur, the market is a moving target and the poor restaurateur is forced to shoot the latest trend at it and try to score a bull’s-eye.

You, and I, of course, are that target, and many modern restaurateurs are jumping around trying hard to hit our fancy. They may be perfectly content with their original restaurants, but the second effort is an attempt to make us happy. And so they scale down their dreams, offer slightly less expensive food, and try to turn up a new twist on the latest trend.

The trendiest foods on the current scene are pizza and anything Cajun; it was inevitable that someone would attempt a combination. Welcome to Cajun pizza at the new Orleans Bayou, just upstairs from the wildly successful Orleans restaurant. Proprietor Jake Ptasznik says he is serving “lunch, light dinner and late-night supper in a rustic, informal Bayou setting.” That setting goes beyond informal into serious reverse chic; well-dressed people slouch around something that looks like it should be a set for “The Beverly Hillbillies.” The room wears an unfinished look, as if the carpenters had just stepped out for a beer.

If I were a carpenter I would step out for beer--the Dixie longnecks here cost $3, and the fresh mint juleps are $4.50. And while it is possible to snack without spending a fortune, most of the food is no bargain either. A bowl of gumbo costs $7.95, oysters will set you back a buck apiece, and, with the exception of the Cajun meatloaf, all of the main courses are more than $10. A piece of fruit cobbler weighs in at a hefty $4.50.

This is, however, friendly food, and if you’ve never had great Cajun cooking, you’re likely to love it. Cajun food has pizazz; even when it’s not particularly well-cooked it can be very satisfying. On every one of my visits my companions raved about the food and wished I wouldn’t keep insisting that the gumbo was one-dimensional. “It tastes good,” the Reluctant Gourmet kept insisting, while I prattled on about the way a great gumbo tastes different with each spoonful. While I was giving a little dissertation on how to make roux, (the flour-and-oil mixture that is the basis of every gumbo), they were just spooning the stuff up.

I thought that the chicken Creole needed more zip, the blackened tuna was more overcooked than blackened, and the oysters in the oyster loaf were entirely too bready. They just kept eating.

I did get some agreement about the “Mardi Gras salad”--a truly bizarre combination of lettuce, cabbage and bell peppers topped with tasso and andouille . Cajuns don’t eat salad, and they certainly wouldn’t tuck tasso on the top.

As for those Cajun pizzas--which come covered with things like shrimp Creole and gumbo--they really are rather strange. Personally, I’d rather have some of those good biscuits and muffins served downstairs, (they aren’t served up here), and go someplace else for pizza.

Someplace like La Famiglia Piccola, for example, which is right next door to La Famiglia. Like Orleans Bayou, this offspring of a larger restaurant offers extraordinarily warm and friendly service. Both also have open kitchens, and the proprietors of the two places even have the same initials. But Joe Patti’s place is seriously Italian; his pizzas, which are cooked in a tiled, wood-burning oven, tend to the traditional Margherita and Napoletena. They have delightfully chewy bubbly crusts, not too much topping, and I found them a joy to eat.

Unlike Bayou, Piccola is a pretty place, all rosy and glowing with track lighting. There is a sort of infectious enthusiasm about the restaurant--when I asked what the house wine was, the waiter brought me a taste and beamed when I said I’d have a glass. (There is also a long wine list.) We asked for antipasto and he went to the glass showcase and heaped a plate with slices of marinated eggplant and peppers, fine fresh white bean salad, bright herbed carrots, and a flavorful seafood salad--all newly made, and each with its own unique taste. Salads come in big bowls, (you have to ask for anchovies), and the pasta is served with a generous hand.

There are no surprises here--pasta is the usual Bolognese , vongole , primavera --and entrees run to eggplant parmigiana and veal marinara . But the food is lovingly prepared and the atmosphere is warm. This isn’t the place for a lavish dinner, but rather a drop-in-anytime or take-it-to-go sort of place with some of Beverly Hills’ most easy-going prices. (A couple could share a plate of antipasto, each have some pasta and a glass of wine, and be out the door for under $30.)

There’s no question that both of these young restaurants have something to offer to patrons of their parent establishments: Orleanians can eat lunch, eat late, drop in without reservations. La Famiglia fans can come by for a quick bite. But if this trend continues at its present pace, will we soon be faced with the Chasenette, Ma Petite Maison, Little Mike’s and the Unoriginal Pantry?