RESTAURANTS : Flags on Sunset--a Menu Flutters at Half-Mast

“This looks like my kind of place,” said the Reluctant Gourmet, striding purposefully into Flags on the Sunset Strip. With one eye on the TV over the door, he held his breath while a man threw a ball gracefully into a hoop half a continent away. With the other eye, he looked thirstily at a pitcher of beer sitting only a few feet away. He smiled happily. “My kind of place,” he repeated.

Certainly no one could call Flags pretentious. It has that spare look cultivated by pricey Japanese boutiques that pay designers big bucks to make their shops look like they are not quite ready to open. You get a quick impression of concrete, glass, an open kitchen, and then the noise of the room comes roaring at you. Even the menus are just mimeographed and stuck into plastic folders. It looks like a bar for the ‘80s.

The R. G. grabbed a folder. “I’m sure they are going to have something I want to eat,” he muttered, one eye on the basketball game. He opened the menu and settled back. A comical look of dismay came over his face. “What is this?” he wailed. “No hamburgers!”

Flags is not quite what it appears to be. It is, in fact, not quite like anything else around. The owners have taken the formula that made Chin Chin, just up the Sunset Strip, so successful and revved it up a few notches. Chin Chin serves Chinese food; Flags serves food from all over the Pacific Rim. Chin Chin is small and crowded; Flags is large and crowded. Chin Chin has a few seats outside edging onto the sidewalk; Flags has a real patio. Chin Chin serves low-cost food in a high-rent district; Flags does it with style.

The people who own Flags are savvy restaurateurs. They were the ones who opened La Petite Chaya six years ago and brought Franco-Japanese food to Los Angeles. But as Flags was opening, La Petite Chaya was closing its doors, and they have taken the ultimate failure of their flagship restaurant to heart. La Petite Chaya served elegant, innovative food at high prices in an out-of-the-way neighborhood. “That didn’t work,” they seem to have said to themselves, “so let’s try doing the exact opposite.”

Consider the neighborhood: Just across the street from Spago, Flags could hardly be less out of the way. Consider the prices: Nothing on the menu is over $8.50. Consider the atmosphere: It is anti-elegant. And then consider the food, which is eclectic as opposed to innovative. You find French fries, Singapore noodles, California pasta, grilled Japanese mushrooms, Peruvian steak, Senegalese soup and good old American Caesar salad all on the same page.

“What a weird menu!” exclaimed the R. G. His eye glanced grumpily across “grilled sticks” and “fried specialties,” took in ravioli, dumplings and paella and came to rest, finally, on grilled beef cross ribs. He heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ll have some of those,” he said happily. “And a pitcher of that good Kirin draft beer.”

“Order something as a first course,” I murmured. “I’ve got to try a few more things.”

“OK,” he said in a resigned tone of voice. “I’ll have some fried dumplings to start. But I don’t really want them.”

I didn’t really want them either once they’d arrived. Chinese potstickers, when made well, are a contrast in texture. The wrappers should have crispy bottoms and tender tops, and the filling should be light and moist. These potstickers came wrapped in won-ton skins that had toughened with cooking. When you finally chewed your way through, you found a rather rubbery filling. The R. G. took half a bite and turned back to his beer.

Cold chicken noodles were also disappointing. Spaghetti came adorned with overcooked chunks of chicken, strips of cucumber and wedges of tomato. The one wonderful touch was sweet crunchy strips of jicama, but even when dipped into the soy and ginger dressing, they were cold comfort. A dab of Chinese mustard attempted to give the dish a dash of pizazz, but it was just not enough. “I’ll wait for my ribs,” said the R. G. disdainfully.

When they came, he wished he had eaten more of the spaghetti. These were huge, meaty things in a sweetish sauce. They didn’t look like something you’d want to eat; they didn’t much taste like it either.

I wasn’t much happier with “chicken merida.” This turned out to be a generous portion of tough white chicken in a yellow mango sauce tasting mostly of butter. The R. G. consoled himself by eating the French fries on his plate. Then he ate the ones on mine. I urged him to take the broccoli and shredded red cabbage as well, but he wasn’t interested.

“I’ll have dessert,” he said glumly, ordering a barbecued banana. This turned out to be a hefty piece of fruit that been grilled right in its skin, then topped with vanilla ice cream, slivered almonds and liqueur. The R. G. took a bite. He took a second bite. He called the waiter over. “Get me another one of these,” he said. “I’m hungry.” While he waited for his second banana, he devoured most of my coconut flan. “Desserts,” he said, “are definitely their strong suit.”

I agreed--and subsequent visits did nothing to change my mind. The “grilled sticks”--skewers of yakitori-- are nice enough, and a big pile of them makes a fine way for a crowd to begin a meal. I especially like the chicken meatballs and the Japanese eggplant. The fried foods are occasionally fried in oil that is not sufficiently hot, so that the light tempura batter doesn’t quite stick. When properly fried, the calamari served with a curry sauce are delightful.

Book Soup (an homage to the bookstore next door) is a decent version of won-ton soup in a broth tasting strongly of shiitake mushrooms. But you can get better won-ton soup in many Chinese restaurants. And you can definitely get better coconut chicken soup in almost any Thai restaurant in town.

There are a number of salads on the menu. One made of broccoli, tomato, mushrooms and blue cheese is puzzlingly defined as a “California favorite.” The Caesar would be very respectable if only it were not topped with pre-grated cheese that has all the appeal of sawdust.

There are, however, a couple of winners on the menu. The Pacific paella , a big mound of saffron-colored rice tossed with shrimp, Manila clams, sausage and pieces of squid, is a wonderful dish and, at $8.50, a decided bargain. The fish of the day (red snapper when I tried it) is a fair piece of fish, nicely grilled and served with a light pineapple-mint salsa. Steak Peruviana, thinly sliced pieces of meat, was remarkably tender and would have been improved by a salsa with a little more punch.

But desserts remain Flags’ strong suit. There is that coconut flan, a square that is flavorful and not at all sweet. The hot caramel sundae, made with lots of ginger, is gooey and wonderful. Cheesecake is enhanced by the exotic flavors of passion fruit. And then there is that Japanese favorite, coffee jelly.

“Jell-O made of coffee?” said the R. G. He shuddered at the thought. “Count me out,” he said. “I’m just an apple pie guy with a dream.” He looked around the room again, watched appreciatively as a ball landed in the basket on the TV over his head, and said, “I guess I was wrong about this place. Can we go get a hamburger?”

Flags, 8800 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood, (213) 657-2083. Open daily for lunch and dinner. Beer and wine. Validated parking in garage beneath the building (turn down Palm Ave.). All major credit cards accepted. Selected prices: grilled skewers of Japanese eggplant, $3.75; fried calamari, $4; Book Soup, $4; Chinese spaghetti, $5.50; paella, $8.50; steak Peruviana, $8; barbecued bananas, $2.75.