They don’t <i> do</i> lunch here, by the way, they eat it. : Where Moses Dines

In a world whose tastes vacillate from baby quail to blackened red fish with only scant attention to culinary tradition, it is encouraging to observe that Du-Par’s blueberry cream cheese pie has not changed in 50 years.

Neither trendy nor flashy, the pie remains, as always, the apex of sensual delight to the gourmand and the moral equivalent of high sin to the diet-conscious.

There are some, in fact, who believe that, had Eve not lost her innocence over an apple, she surely would have lost it over Du-Par’s blueberry cream cheese pie.

I sing in praise of the Pie Supreme because it is a hallmark of the restaurant itself, which this year celebrates half a century in L.A.

I became aware of the anniversary when I was lunching one day with Richard Dreyfuss in the Studio City Du-Par’s, which is one of six.

Well, actually, I wasn’t lunching with Dreyfuss. He was occupying the booth next to me. I was lunching with Irv Wilson, but I get a lot more mileage out of the name Richard Dreyfuss than I do Irv Wilson.

Irv and I were discussing an idea for a movie that will combine “E. T.” and “Night of the Living Dead” when I noticed a woman with a generous bust line wearing a T-shirt that celebrated Du-Par’s anniversary.

I stared for a long time because, although I could make out Du-Par’s, the remainder of the prose was lost in the dips and swells of the woman herself, which offered additional benefits to slow readers. When I discovered that it was the restaurant’s quinquagenary, I met with Juanita Ludwig, an ex-waitress who is now a vice president of the company, and Larry Shaw, who manages the Studio City outlet.

We sat in a corner booth and talked about the celebrities who have eaten there. The list reads like a Hollywood Who’s Who because the CBS television studios are right across the street.

Ludwig and Shaw tried to remember names, but sometimes could recall the celebrities only by their faces and by what they ate. Mr. Cream of Wheat, for example, and Mr. Scrambled Eggs.

I suspect that Charlton Heston, who is among their regulars, is Mr. Blueberry Cream Cheese Pie. It would seem to follow somehow that an actor who once played Moses and who is a close friend of Ronald Reagan would love that old blueberry cream cheese pie.

Richard Pryor, Gary Coleman, Sharon Gless, Sally Kellerman, Ed Asner . . .

They drop by to eat and to talk deals. They don’t do lunch here, by the way, they eat it. That tells you something of the solid nature of Du-Par’s, a name which, incidentally, derives from its two founders, Dunn and Parson.

“Every once in a while when it’s crowded,” Shaw said, “someone will try to get a booth by saying they know ‘Mr. Dupar.’ Suuuure they do.”

Nobody gets special treatment. They sign up and wait even though they might be Tom Selleck, to whom any woman in the place would gladly give her seat, her soup and her sacred honor.

“Who’s the famous black-haired guy with the deep voice who comes in?” Ludwig asked, trying to remember.

“Oh, yeah,” Shaw said. “The one who wears a cowboy hat all the time. Let me see. . . . “

“He has a kind of fatherly image,” Ludwig said. “John something?”

“Can’t remember,” Shaw said, “but what about the comic who smashes food for laughs?

“Don’t know him.”

“He’s bald on top and frizzy-haired around the sides. He bought 16 strawberry delight pies once so he could smash them with a wooden mallet.”

“One studio bought 100 lemon meringue pies so people could throw them at each other,” Ludwig said.

“I can see him so clearly,” Shaw said, still thinking about the pie-smasher.

“Johnny Carson mentions us all the time,” Ludwig said. “Merv Griffin used to talk about us too, but, of course, he’s off the air.”

“The celebrities like it here because they’re left alone,” Shaw said, giving up on the pie-smasher.

“They like the food too,” Ludwig added. “Buttermilk hot cakes and pan fried chicken.” She paused. “Who’s that quiz show woman? Vanna White. She comes in.”

“That’s right,” Shaw said, “and the voice of the car on ‘Knight Rider,’ what’s his name?”

“I know exactly who you mean,” Ludwig said. “It’s, uh. . . . “

“And the one who did the puppets on ‘Soap’? Remember him?”

“Oh, sure,” Ludwig said. Pause. “God, it’s right at the tip of my tongue. . . . “

Someday, years from now, I will walk in and Juanita Ludwig will whisper to Larry Shaw, “Don’t we know him?”

“Right,” Shaw will say, “wasn’t he in ‘Howard the Duck’?”

“No,” Ludwig will say, “I believe he was a comic who smashed up pies.”

“Uh-uh, that was the frizzy-haired guy with the cowboy hat and the fatherly manner who used to . . . . “

Happy anniversary, Mr. Dupar.