RESTAURANT REVIEW : Continental Cuisine Outlasts Trends at Alpine St. Moritz

In the old days, 10 or 15 years ago, before freshness and low-fat content became prized qualities in food, Continental cuisine was so pervasive you could swim cross-country in pools of cream and dried herbs. The fish you’d encounter would generally be frozen. The truffles, olives, and tomatoes were canned. But boy, were those entrees built! Remember veal cordon bleu? chicken Kiev? Dover sole a la fill in the blank? All that pounding, breading, stuffing, saucing and last-minute broiling? Remember how, when a chef really wanted to show his stuff, he made sculptures of ice and butter and cheese and gelatin?

New, health-conscious dining trends have all but eliminated the walk-in freezer and staunched free-flowing butterfat; these days, few restaurants, regardless of their menus, will even claim the Continental epithet. Not so the St. Moritz Restaurant and Alpine Garden in Studio City. Their sign unabashedly advertises both Continental and Swiss cuisine.

Nestled against an ivy-covered hill, and furnished in white wrought-iron patio furniture, the St. Moritz garden, while not above any timberline, earns its Alpine adjective with requisite beer garden lathwork, Heidiland posters, and a profusion of azaleas, pansies, and orchids planted in typically Swiss flower beds. It’s a lovely, relaxing, densely green spot. Businessmen meet here. Guys and their dates dress up to come here. Some people, like the older couple at the next table, have been showing up regularly since St. Moritz opened its doors 14 years ago.

A welcoming, good-natured staff is one reason why the restaurant has flourished in the face of change: it’s friendlier than home. The host lets you pick your table, waitresses (waitresses!) in dirndl skirts and eyelet peasant blouses, are cheerful and efficient, and the chef himself will come out to make a Caesar salad right at your table.

Or something resembling a Caesar salad. With much prodigious pounding and stirring, anchovies, garlic, mustard and seven other ingredients result in a hot, mustardy, emulsified paste that is so thick it smothers perfectly good lettuce and doesn’t begin to soak into croutons.

Enormously generous portions are certainly another reason the St. Moritz has its loyal regulars. In fact, all faults to be found in this restaurant’s food can be traced to Continental overkill. The escargots en croute swam in a “Cafe de Paris sauce,” a startingly green amalgamation of 15 herbs which, in concert, produce a flavor as mysteriously swampy as their bright green color. The cannelloni appetizer is a solid brick of stuffed pasta; unless you split it or eat only a few bites it will ruin any normal appetite. The lightest and most delicious appetizer is the mushroom caps stuffed with crab, tomato and cheese in a butter and lemon sauce.

A la carte entrees are Alp-sized and come with three buttered vegetables and potato, rice, or squiggly spaetzle ; it’s entirely possible to satisfy a hefty appetite without any preliminary courses at all. But it would be a shame to miss the cream of leek soup, a noble treatment of a particularly noble vegetable.

The Wienerschnitzel is perfect--crisp and buttery. It also comes a la Holstein, with capers, anchovies and a sunny-side-up egg. The pork scaloppini St. Moritz is a surprisingly happy union of breaded pork filets layered with slices of fried, breaded zucchini, while a red meat sauce, a white cream sauce, Parmesan and mozzarella cheese fail to counter the blandness of two big dry broiled breasts in the chicken special.

But Lamb d’Agneau a la Monterey wins, hands down, the Most Continental award. This “lamb of lamb” consists of bite-sized lamb and a very thick, strong sauce of cream, hot pepper and cilantro. The spices actually complement the lamb of the lamb, but a tablespoon of the sauce would’ve been sufficient and the amount actually ladled onto the plates could shampoo an adult ewe.

To-go cartons, which will probably contain tomorrow’s lunch and dinner, are cheerfully packed in the kitchen.

If dessert seems plausible, nothing beats the Swiss Pudding Pie, a cold, custardy concoction, with raisins and nuts, a hint of cocoa, and all the comfort of a good bread pudding. The creme caramel , however, is a cup of resilient egg in a watery syrup. As for the chocolate cake, the loyal regular at the next table swears by it.

Customers who order cappuccino and expect, you know, espresso, steamed milk and a dash of cinnamon or chocolate, will be surprised by a stemmed mug of something alcoholic garnished with whipped cream and straws. The chef, however, will gently explain that “all cappuccino comes with liquor,” and then cheerfully bring the desired drink; if you want it without alcohol, order cafe au lait.

There’s a trick to enjoying a meal at St. Moritz: enter the doors with a full-blown appetite and a measure of self-control. Otherwise, it will be self-evident why Continental cuisine is in danger of extinction.

St. Moritz Restaurant, 11720 Ventura Blvd., Studio City, (818) 980-1122. Open for lunch and dinner. Dinner for two, food only, $55 to $65.