CHEF STEVE WHITE KNOWS HIS AUDIENCE

Magdalena’s Cafe and Pastries, 17818 Bellflower Blvd., Bellflower, (213) 925-6551. Lunch, Tue.-Fri.; dinner, Tue.-Sat. Beer and wine. All major cards. Dinner for two, food only, $40-$65.

Glenn Gould, the mercurial pianist who played Bach with such brilliant frenzy, was loath to perform in front of an audience. He claimed that the responsibility of pleasing his listeners diluted his inspiration and ultimately reduced his stature as an artist. Thank heaven the great chefs are not circumscribed by such thoughts.

A chef’s secret is to find the right audience, one that will constantly test him and stretch his imagination. And when you have an imagination like Steve White, the enormously talented chef and owner of Magdalena’s Cafe and Pastries in Bellflower, finding the right audience is no easy task.

White’s credentials are impressive. While doing an apprenticeship in the South of France, White hitched a ride on a shooting star, L’Archestrate, whose chef at that time was Alain Senderens, one of the most original cooking minds France has ever produced. White learned innovation from his three years with Senderens, but above all he learned to waste nothing in the kitchen. At L’Archestrate, White saw that everything, from marrow to stalk, has its own essence, its own life. Senderens used the humblest ingredients with intelligence, and that, noted White, was the art form at its purest.

Beginning with this basic approach, White mastered sophisticated techniques. He then returned to his native California and worked for several years, all the while planning his own venture. Three years ago, he and his wife Amy opened Magdalena’s. The restaurant has since doubled in size.

White’s cooking style, while highly personal, is solidly rooted in tradition; you won’t find cuisine minceur here. The chef relies heavily on cream and butter, and many of his sauces would have Michel Guerard running for cover. The sauces, incidentally, are absolutely first-rate.

Appetizers often come bathed in them, like an ethereal salmon quenelle glorified by a grainy, subtle three mustard sauce. Even better is the asparagus flan, molded with sea scallops and baby shrimps, and offset by a silken sauce Nantua. Still another wonderful idea is the feuillete of Delta crayfish with a delightfully eccentric julienne of baby vegetables that comes in a sauce Champagne .

There are extensive examples like this on a menu which changes daily; too extensive, in fact. The problem is that the menu often becomes precious--even excessive. A recent special dinner is a perfect illustration.

White planned a menu to accompany an excellent selection of Iron Horse wines, creating dishes to marry with specific wines. Individually, the dishes were superb; collectively, they were less impressive. The problem was simple excess.

We started with a grilled slice of Norwegian salmon in beurre blanc with chanterelles. The dish was faultless, as was what followed, a puff pastry filled with veal sweetbreads and delectable chunks of apricot-smoked squab, scattered in a sauce of shallots and cream.

After these two dishes we were reeling, and there was still much to come, like a savory venison, an unusual salad and fabulous individual chestnut souffles baked inside baby pumpkins. This was, of course, a special dinner, but the daily menu offers similar problems. Main dishes are executed with brilliance, but none is straightforward. When I saw the list of complex, sauce-enrobed, multifaceted daily specials, I just didn’t know where to begin. It’s like being a child in a candy store with five minutes to choose everything you can carry; it ends up dizzying.

Things we finally settled on were more than satisfying. Domestic leg of lamb, boned and stuffed with julienned vegetables, and breast of pheasant with wild morel sauce were absolute perfection. (Especially the lamb, sauced in a demi-glace with rosemary and tarragon). But by the finish we longed for something simple to surround them. Where were the plain salads, the charcuterie , soups without cream, the lighter desserts? Even the cappuccino was covered in a blizzard of whipped cream.

A conversation with White cleared up this mystery--a little.

“After a while, you get to know what people like,” said White, in a quietly gentle way. “Then you concentrate on that part of your repertoire. I didn’t care for the Westside all that much when I worked there. I prefer this community. I ride my bicycle to work, and now I spend a lot of time with my three children.”

Sounds pretty sane to me. Still, I can’t help wondering what culinary concerti White would play to a different audience. Instead of halibut, perhaps he would experiment with mullet or lamprey, or some of the other things he prepared in France. I’m not suggesting he buy a truckload of mesquite, but he might consider lightening things up a bit, because eventually he will be more than a local resource.

But until further notice, Steve White will be found in Bellflower, playing to a packed house holding half-price tickets. And wowing them.