RESTAURANTS : GETTING IN ON THE GROUND FLOOR AT LA MESA

It was lunch time and I was hungry and there I was, lost, in the parking garage of the Blue Whale. Phase Two of the Pacific Design Center (the soon-to-be-greener-than-green new Cesar Pelli building) is in full swing, so the path to La Mesa de Roble, the new Southwestern restaurant on the fourth floor, feels like a 24-hours-to-Tulsa tour. But what a ride: hard hats amble around on the high wire outside while phantom board rooms, fairy tale beds, antique rugs and more ceramic bibelots than you’d find at the museum compete for attention within.

The escalator’s the perfect way to go. Floor two, the urns and columns (and paint chips) appear. Floor three, there’s a staircase leading nowhere (just for show). All this gorgeous glitz is “to the trade only” but meanwhile there’s not a bite in sight. It is not until the fourth floor that you finally find food.

My friend Sandy is waiting. “The garage . . .” I begin. She interrupts, “It’s easy to find parking on the street. Let’s eat. I already know what I want.”

What she wants is the lobster tamale and the Arizona roll. And the salmon with chile rellenos and the Taos sauce. And blue corn tortillas. And guacamole. And flan.

Lucky for the starving two of us that service is so alert. Barely do we look around at the peaceable gray and grape decor (“You know,” Sandy says moving right into the basket of steaming tortillas, “this reminds me of a first-class airport lounge”) when the attractive appetizers arrive.

The lobster tamales are exquisite. Though the portion of lobster is scanty, it’s also sweet and fine, and the masa is what corn is all about. The Arizona roll, filled with scallops and black beans, spinach and red peppers, comes beautifully cut like norimaki but hits the meter between delicate and bland. Served with a lightning-good cilantro salsa, blue corn taquitos stuffed with grilled chicken are crisp, right, all nattily fanned out on the plate. The guacamole tastes of onion juice and too much lime.

La Mesa recognizes the turf: PDC is a land where aesthetics reign--and Those Who Think Young prefer lean cuisine. Nothing is even a tad greasy here.

Half a grilled chicken, marinated in lime juice and chiles, is juicy and fragrant. And someone knows how to cook those black beans. “This food is like a clear lake,” I say. “Well,” Sandy mutters taking a bite of her salmon filet, “I think we’ve got a summer storm over here.” I taste the overcooked fish and saline sauce. “Or a salt flat,” I add. Luckily the big fat chile relleno, looking like a giant brown fluffy omelet, is really good enough to eat.

Next time, having mastered the parking garage, I have plenty of time to wander through the field of chandeliers and four-poster beds.

There are three dining rooms at La Mesa: room one, the airport lounge; room two, a great view--if the louvered blinds are open--of the hard hats at work; room three, where we sat this time, all tucked away and most spacious of all. We shared a cool grilled chicken, Boston lettuce, papaya and avocado salad cleanly dressed with a raspberry vinegar. (I’m going back for the lamb, cactus, peppers and peanut salad in the fall.) Sandy insisted on trying the salmon once more. “I read it cuts cholesterol,” she said, then specified “no salt.” The fish was sweet and butter-tender this time. But where was the cradle of tortillas? Why the basket of who-cares rolls? And the guacamole was once again sour.

I wanted the bay scallops without the accompanying pasta. Could the kitchen substitute some fresh vegetables? It sure could. (From host to waiters, people are really nice here. Professional too.) The tender little scallops and green and yellow baby squash cut into merry rounds came in a bowl of delicious broth.

Sandy was sure there’d be flan. But the only sweets at La Mesa are fresh berries and a commercial cheesecake with a few thin slices of listless pear that was described as “pear tarte.”

Skip dessert. There’s a better way to end the meal. Down in the lobby, a model of “Phase II,” the Pelli building under construction, is housed under glass. The full-size giant green building, which looks like a rectangular spaceship, won’t be finished until next spring but the model is worth a detour now. Like a giant mollusk--or Old Faithful--it swings open for four minutes every hour and a half. It makes up for no flan.

La Mesa de Roble, 8687 Melrose Ave., Suite 400, (in the Pacific Design Center, fourth floor), West Hollywood, (213) 659-8433. Open Monday-Friday, for lunch 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m. and for cocktails and hors d’oeuvres 3 p.m.-7 p.m. Reservations suggested. Parking structure (no validations) and available street parking. Full bar. All major credit cards. Lunch for two, food only, $24-$40.