RESTAURANT REVIEW : Family Likeness Is Clear, Cozy at Jitlada West

Thai food, I’ve been told, is hot. Now I’m willing to believe my sources, who assure me that in Thailand the food is extremely hot, but after some research I have concluded that, on this continent, ascribing heat to Thai food is pure rumor perpetrated by pizza buffs and other xenophobics who would rather eat pepperoni than confront an extensive menu full of words they didn’t learn as children.

I have yet to encounter Thai food of the hot-and-helpless variety, the kind that makes you scream with pain but tastes so good you have to take another bite. To do so is on my hidden agenda each time I walk into a Thai restaurant.

This is not to say I haven’t eaten a lot of delicious Thai food--I have, much of it at Jitlada on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. Therefore, I walked through the doors of Jitlada West in Studio City with the anticipation and confidence that I would enjoy the child as much as the parent. And I was not too terribly disappointed. There is definitely a family resemblance: the same living room-cozy atmosphere, a similar (though not identical) menu and service that seems even friendlier than the original.

I did miss the Hollywood Jitlada’s practice of serving soup in chafing dishes, and the spicy clams, and the high quality of the original’s noodles. And the aquarium. But I liked Jitlada West’s Buddha statues and the French windows looking out on Ventura Boulevard, and I was very happy to see from the menu that the staff here is willing to negotiate the heat factor.

When taking your order, the helpful waitresses at Jitlada West remind you to get a dry curry to balance out the sauced dishes; they’ll even make the decision when you’re agonizing between chicken noodles and Jitlada noodles with chicken. (She chose the Jitlada noodles with chicken.)

Although the menu says, “Tell us your spice level,” and “How hot do you want it?” the waitresses do start to look dubious when you say you want hot food, VERY hot food. They ask if everybody at the table likes it hot, and how hot. They warn that the whole meal shouldn’t be hot and that a vegetable or noodle or rice should be included--for chaff, I guess. They are so solicitous, so cautious, one gets the impression that they’ve got a private lava flow back there in the kitchen and will tap it only if convinced of your sincerity.

The coconut chicken soup is not spicy and is not supposed to be: It’s simply one of the most delicious things in the world. The tom yum geong, a clear broth with shrimp, chili, mushrooms and luscious fresh tomatoes, is delicious and hot--hot enough that one doesn’t want to compound it by accidentally biting into one of those green chilies that masquerade as baby okra, and certainly hot enough to inspire hope that, after the appetizers, there would be more of the same.

Appetizers, on the whole, prove unexceptional. The satay is unremarkable but acceptable. The three stuffed chicken wings at first pose an arithmetic problem for even numbers of people, until it’s discovered that they’re just big bland fried things that nobody wants anyway. The barbecue chicken arrives in flames, then crackles and sputters and sizzles so seductively it’s a shock to find it flavorless and ordinary. The mee grob is sweet and crunchy and very affectionate: Sticky little squiggles of it jump onto sweaters and shirts and cling there, future snacks.

The menu says that the larb, a ground - beef salad from northeastern Thailand seasoned with mint, lime juice and chili, is “unbelievably delicious,” and, even though the crumbled meat is overcooked and under-limed, one is not inclined to disagree too vigorously. The Thai sausage salad is too good and contains too few of the little red Chinese-style sausage morsels to split more than 50-50, even with friends you love.

When the entrees start appearing on the table, the waitress sets down a lidded lacquer bowl, looks at the one person at the table who hesitated to commit to nuclear heat, and says, “Steamed rice--all you can eat.”

As it turns out, everybody can eat everything painlessly. The only food that requires an occasional cooling rinse of Thai tea turns out to be the spicy scallops--big, flaky and regrettably pre-fried, but saved by a clear, slightly sweet, wonderfully delicious chili sauce. Spicy mint chicken, an unsauced ground-meat dish, is tasty and moderately spicy, but nobody rushes to finish it.

A Thai solution to the difficulty of skinning catfish (a feat most often accomplished by nailing the fish’s head to a board and peeling the skin off with pliers) is to not. This detail indisposes some towards the catfish “wok style.” Skin or no, the fish in this red paste curry has the distinct “river cat” muddiness, which fans insist is prized like stinkiness in cheese but others may find unpalatable. The panang pork has the same sauce as the catfish, only with a little more coconut milk, and is the first platter emptied. The Bangkok duck, pre-roasted and sauteed with vegetables and slabs of tofu, comes across as an uninspired leftover dish, which I’m sure it’s not.

As the waitress predicted, the stir-fried fresh vegetables are a welcome contrast to the gravies and curries. The spinach comes in a light black bean sauce with cashews, and the asparagus is in a sweet, almost barbecue-flavored sauce with Baco-like bits; it was devoured in a moment.

As the waitress did not predict, the noodles with chicken were a major disappointment. For someone addicted to Jitlada’s thick, gelatinous and heavily gravied pan-fried flat noodles, Jitlada West’s version of the same dish has all the punch of skimmed milk. The pad Thai tasted old, too.

The coconut and green tea ice creams may not be required to extinguish a smoldering palate, but they’re good here, especially the coconut, which comes studded with palm seeds, amazing things that look and taste like water-logged coconut jellybeans and are so quintessentially gelatinous they almost make up for the disappointing noodles.

Someday--though I may have to go to Bangkok--I will find truly hot Thai food. And regret it. In the meantime, I’ll probably keep going back to both Jitlada and Jitlada West for that chicken coconut soup.

Jitlada West, 11622 Ventura Blvd., Studio City (818) 506-9355. Open for lunch Tuesday through Saturday and dinner Tuesday through Sunday. Beer and wine. American Express, MasterCard and Visa. Dinner for two, food only, $15 to $20.