RESTAURANTS : A Guide for Gourmet Babies

“Absolutely not,” I said to my cousin Molly. “You are not going to bring that baby out to dinner with us. I thought you said you had a baby sitter.”

“She didn’t show up,” wailed Molly, “and this is the only time I’m ever going to get to eat at Citrus. It would kill me to miss this dinner.”

I looked dubiously at the 3-month-old baby. “Do you think she’ll be good?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Molly honestly. She brightened. “But if she starts crying, I promise that I’ll just get up and leave.”

What could I do? I treated Baby Snooks to her first major meal in a restaurant.

It was not to be her last. During the week that my cousin and her baby spent with me, I saw a different side of restaurants. Call it the view from the cradle.

It had to be a Saturday night, of course. Citrus was packed. And when we walked in with a baby, the maitre d’ looked a little startled. But he quickly recovered his composure, summoned one of his minions and the two of them wedged a chair into the already crowded space around our table.

Baby Snooks looked happily around her. “I think she likes all the activity,” said my cousin Molly. “She’s the only baby in the room,” I hissed as people all around us starting making goo-goo eyes at the wee one. “They won’t be so pleased if she starts screaming.”

“Stop worrying,” said Molly, tucking into a tiny brochette of snails and crisply fried croutons, “and taste these. They’re delicious.” Molly thought everything was delicious. I don’t know what Baby Snooks thought, but somewhere between the sauteed foie gras and the skate wings, she stopped looking around. But she didn’t make a sound; she simply fell asleep. “I told you she’d be good,” said Molly. She ordered one of Michel Richard’s amazing puff pastry desserts (this one was filled with creme brulee ) and a cup of coffee. And then she tried to get up to go to the ladies room.

This was no easy feat. The baby’s chair effectively blocked all exits from the table. As I wriggled around to make a passageway for my cousin, I managed to splash the better part of a pitcher of cream on my dress. I glared at the baby sleeping peacefully on the extra chair. “I’m sending you the cleaning bill,” I muttered under my breath.

Moral: If you’re planning on taking a baby along, let the restaurant know ahead of time. You’ll be happier if they’re not surprised. Babies may not eat much, but they takes up more space than paying customers.

Citrus, 6703 Melrose Ave., Los Angeles, (213) 857-0034.

Emboldened by the success of this experiment, we abandoned all talk of sitters. Molly decided that Baby Snooks was to be considered our constant dining companion. “Wasn’t she wonderful?” she cried. “Where shall we take her next?”

“Some place less crowded,” I said. As I spoke, I conjured up Mandarette, a restaurant that never seems crowded, even when it’s full.

“What a good idea,” said Molly. “Chinese restaurants are the best for children.” She then proceeded to tell me about her trip through Asia and a restaurant in Singapore where children ran gaily from table to table, eating off the plates of perfect strangers. Molly had determined then and there that her children would see Asia first.

Be that as it may, when the people at Mandarette saw us, they did not seem the least bit disconcerted. In fact, they seemed charmed by Baby Snooks. Waiters came by from time to time to smile at the child while diners strolled past to chuck her under the chin. Molly and I each had a glass of wine (there is an interesting list) and I fervently hoped that Baby Snooks would get a visit from the sandman.

No such luck. She was in her element. Her eyes widened as we ate pork-filled dumplings and chicken-stuffed taro croquettes and delightfully spicy won ton. She gurgled as we stabbed at feather-light shrimp sauteed with chives, and noodles with sesame sauce and a particularly addictive version of chicken with asparagus.

I ate nervously, and I had managed to put away the better part of the meal before I realized that I had stopped worrying about the baby. She was wide awake and far from silent, but nobody else in the room seemed in the least bit perturbed. I’m not even sure they heard her; the vocalizing of Baby Snooks hardly made a dent in the din of the room. Relieved, I decided to order a few more dishes. As I munched on roast duck and cold poached string beans, I realized that, once again, Molly was right.

Moral: Chinese restaurants are a good place for a tete-a-tete with tots. But acoustics matter more than ethnicity; the louder the restaurant, the more comfortable you’ll be.

Mandarette, 8386 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles, (213) 655-6115.

“Know any more Chinese restaurants?” Molly asked the following evening. I thought of a few--and then rejected them. Too quiet. “What about that place on Melrose that everybody’s been talking about?” said Molly. “Why don’t we try Chopstix?”

She has had better ideas in her life. First, there was the wait--never a great joy with an infant. But wait we did. And only when we got to the head of the line did we see the problem: All the chairs at Chopstix are high chairs. And not the kind that children sit on. The chairs were so elevated, and the seats so small, that it was virtually impossible to balance Baby Snooks’ little seat on the top. Every time she moved (on the average about 30 times a minute) she threatened to go flying to the floor. And the tables were so tiny that had we put her there we would have been using her as a tablecloth.

Ever try watching the floor in a busy and crowded restaurant? I kept waiting for the wail that would signify that Snooks had been stepped on. Molly and I were both so nervous that we gobbled down a a few dishes (I liked the ice cream the best of everything I ate) and beat a hasty retreat.

“Whew,” said Molly when we were out the door, “I’m glad that’s over.”

Moral: Ask not if the restaurant likes children; ask instead if it is suitable for them. Inquire about the size and height of the chairs and the size of the tables. If they have banquettes, ask to be given one. When toddlers are in tow, space is of the essence.

Chopstix, 7229 Melrose Ave., Los Angeles (213) 937-1111.

“Can’t we just stay home tonight?” I said grumpily the following day. “You mean go out for lunch?” said Molly. “Great idea!”

I began to think about the least painful place to take Baby Snooks for a midday meal. “It’s such a nice day,” said Molly. “Isn’t there a restaurant where we can sit outdoors?”

I was in no mood for surprises. I called ahead to Ivy at the Shore. I asked about the size of the seats. I wondered politely if we would be welcome. I reserved a table outside. Nevertheless, the maitre d’ seemed a little taken aback when we walked in with Baby Snooks and all her luggage. (The amount of paraphernalia that Molly takes along for a short snack seems incredible to me. It includes not only bottles, cans of formula, can openers, towels, diapers, rattles, toys and pacifiers--but also an entire change of clothes.) He swallowed once or twice and then politely led us to an outside table.

If the agents, actors and other well-dressed specimens seated at the surrounding tables were surprised to find a baby in their midst, they didn’t show it. There was not so much as a glance in our direction. While we ate a delicious Caesar salad, one of the biggest (and best) hamburgers I’ve had in a while and a superbly simple crab salad, Baby Snooks basked in the sunlight. Our glasses of iced tea were replenished again and again as she cooed softly to herself.

Even when Baby Snooks got restless, not a single person on the patio looked up. Molly jogged her up and down a little bit, but everybody was so absorbed in what they were talking about that you could have walked a leopard on a leash without causing a stir.

Molly was thrilled. She looked around for stars and made silly faces at her child. She ate a hot fudge sundae. She said: “I think you’ve found the perfect place to bring a baby gourmet.”

Moral: Even people who think that babies don’t belong in restaurants tend to be more tolerant when seated outdoors. When baby’s on the guest list, think about eating al fresco.

Ivy at the Shore, 1541 Ocean Ave., Santa Monica, (213) 393-3113

It was Molly’s last day in town, and she and Baby Snooks and I were strolling around Beverly Hills. Molly announced that she was hungry.

“But,” I said, “it’s not even noon.” “Starving,” she said firmly. “Can’t we eat right here?” We were walking past Prego.

“We probably won’t be able to get in without a reservation,” I said discouragingly. Molly was undeterred. “Try,” she urged.

I walked in and discovered, to my surprise, that the room was mostly empty. So empty that they looked from us to the baby to the stroller and immediately led us to a big table in the back. “You can park the stroller by the table,” said the hostess, seating us at a spacious table for five.

They could hardly have been nicer. The waiter came by and made eyes at Baby Snooks. “So beautiful,” he said. She seemed charmed by his attentions. We ate pizza and pasta and good grilled chicken, and while Molly exclaimed how nice all the food was, the entire staff of the restaurant paraded past to entertain the baby.

And then, suddenly, everything changed. The room became louder, busier, and inexorably the wave of diners began moving in our direction. And as the room filled up, waiters began tripping over the stroller. When the waiter said, dubiously, “Do you really want dessert?,” we could sense that it was time to leave.

“Let’s skip the coffee,” said Molly. “I feel our welcome wearing out.”

Moral: Many restaurants welcome children during off hours. If you’re planning on taking the baby, think about eating early.

Prego, 362 N. Camden Drive, Beverly Hills, (213) 277-7346.