RESTAURANT REVIEW : Not Much to Sing About at Verita’s

What gorgeous cars! There’s a silver Rolls-Royce and a black Porsche and even another Rolls, all right up at the front of the parking lot and easy to see from Sunset Boulevard! In fact, every time I’ve been to Verita’s there has been at least one Porsche and one Rolls. Pretty good for a spot that not so long ago was called Rick’s Place.

You bet. The old Rolls-Royce in the parking lot routine? Ma Maison used to hide the ordinary cars out back to make it look as if only the elite were flocking there.

A peek inside Verita’s does nothing to quiet my cynicism. The mirrors on the dining room walls are strung with tiny lights, the sort some people drape over their house plants at Christmas. The patio decor consists of plants placed higgledy-piggledy in a fireplace over which hangs the world’s most weather-beaten garlic braid. The patio walls are adorned with a sentimental portrait of a little girl (lots of impressionistic palette-knife strokes) and an unframed reproduction of an Utrillo.

To be sure, the L-shaped bar looks cozy (it’s known as the Bogart Room). It’s a white-piano bar with nightly entertainment. One night a week is Open Mike, hosted by cable TV talent-show personality Skip E. Lowe. On Friday and Saturday, the singing star is Grace Robbins, the wife of novelist Harold Robbins.

But just when I’m most cynical, I have reason to think maybe I’m wrong about Verita’s, at least in the car department. Here in the reservation book there’s the name of a countess. Then I actually see people driving up in a Rolls. Suddenly I realize the Bogart Room is jam-packed and somebody is on the phone, excitedly saying, “Come on over, everybody’s here!” I have to conclude that Grace Robbins has a lot of friends who really own Porsches and want to hear her sing ballads, which she does rather in the manner of Anita O’Day.

The dining room, however, is only about half full on Friday night, and I think it’s safe to say not many people are coming for the food. There are actually two menus at Verita’s, Mexican and Italian, and neither of them is terribly successful.

To start with the good news, there’s a decent lasagna appetizer with a mellow veal filling in satiny pasta and cream sauce, and the pollo verde with a cornmeal stuffing is entertaining. The “pollo chef” (I expect we pronounce pollo in the Italian fashion for this dish) is a rolled chicken breast with a somewhat rackety garlic filling, but it’s OK, as are the fried calamari, which are also less oily.

But a lot of things are bizarre. On the Mexican appetizer plate, the tiny empanadas are apparently made with won ton skin. The “drunken lamb” is three grilled lamb chops and a peculiar, perhaps drunken, sauce that tastes like warm, salty, diluted mint jelly. The “Mexican fish” is topped with tomatoes and corn kernels with a sliced lemon on the side, and I have had fresher fish. The spaghetti estivi, made with garlic, basil and tomatoes that are not terribly ripe, is like lead (it takes a lot of Parmesan to get this one down).

The Mexican dinners come with perfunctory dessert, a square of pound cake about 1 1/2 inches on a side with some hot lemon sauce. If you pay extra, there’s a good cheesecake with sour cream topping and an OK, if rather plain, apple tart with a short crust. There’s also a peculiar pecan pie that has no idea what it’s doing and a grainy creme brulee, flavored with some kind of liqueur or maybe rum (it’s that vague).

If Grace Robbins stops singing here, I give the place two months.

Verita’s, 9131 Sunset Blvd., West Hollywood. (213) 275-0660. Open for lunch Mondays through Fridays, for dinner Mondays through Saturdays. Full bar. Valet parking. American Express, MasterCard and Visa accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $35 to $70.