Semi-Clubby Fine Affair Forsakes Frump for Daring Dining in Bel-Air

I’m shattered. I’ve been wrong--for years I’ve been wrong.

I held a theory that wealthy neighborhoods just didn’t like ambitious restaurants. Oh, they didn’t mind when one arose nearby, but when it came to a restaurant actually within their own neighborhood, wealthy people seemed to want ease, rather than adventure. Comfortable chairs, a sound-absorbent room, a maitre d’ who would automatically take them to their favorite table, good booze and no surprises on the menu.

One of the places I based this theory on was the Fine Affair, and when I first visited it about 5 years ago, it certainly fit the pattern. It seemed to be a semi-private, clubby place where Bel-Air people went to drink and chat among field stone walls and white garden lattices, and UCLA people entertained their visiting professors. The food was a frumpy compromise between Continental and Californian.

Of course, it was charming and pretty, and it still is, full of dainty touches like a rose petal placed under each wine glass. These days, though, I have to admit the kitchen has become quite a bit more imaginative, even capable of great things.

But let’s get this in perspective. It took quite awhile to discover the kitchen’s potential. It took not only time but daring, resolution and, if I say so myself, plain old American stick-to-it-iveness.

The first thing that showed up for dinner was crayfish lasagna, a grim business with a vague, watery sauce and a curious bitter flavor. It turned out to have a lot in common with a particularly dreary dessert that consisted of slices of orange covered with whipped egg white. This was lukewarm, as if the egg white had been browned under a salamander but not very recently, and under the sabayon topping, things were again watery and vague.

Only a dedicated scientist would have continued, right? And then at lunch, things just seemed to get worse. There was a rather basic asparagus soup, not particularly creamy or asparagus-flavored, and the garnish of julienne strips of duck seemed pining for something more like split pea soup to call its home.

For an entree, chunks of salmon topped with lemon and lime zest fronted for a radicchio salad topped with a “trio of rotini” (when this menu says “trio,” it doesn’t mean three of something but something in three colors). It was OK, but on the side were a couple of peeled orange slices that definitely didn’t belong there.

Going back for dinner was a pure act of faith, and it was due entirely to the fact that there had been one rather good dinner entree of chicken stuffed with crab meat. The chicken was beautifully cooked, brown and appetizing.

Here’s where perseverance paid off. The rest of the dinner entrees seem remarkably good. Incredibly tender venison loin stuffed with mushroom ragout in a meaty sauce flavored faintly with Calvados and loudly with rosemary. Wonderful roast duck with delicious skin, accompanied by a tart rhubarb confit that made excellent sense. Mendocino lake trout in a mild dill sauce with little crisp pearls of Japanese cucumber. Even the grilled tuna steak was very good, though its surprisingly chaste sauce of port wine, lemon and mint at first sounded like big trouble.

However, we’re talking entrees here. Not all the appetizers were quite so good. Some were--the stunning salad of meaty pleurotte mushrooms in a cream sauce sweetened with brandy and the Norwegian smoked salmon rolled up with bits of endive in a foamy horseradish sauce. However, the shrimp ravioli was only tolerable because of its basil and hazelnut sauce, and the lamb consomme with nasturtium blossom and chives was quite as minimalist as you imagine.

And dessert was still something of a problem. Creme brulee (made in some sort of soup plate rather than a little custard cup, so you get lots of caramelized surface) was a little thin and sugary. The tarte tatin, with partially caramelized apple chunks, was passable, but the chocolate terrine was a bore. I wouldn’t have thought it possible.

So what’s our conclusion? Some things change; ambitious kitchens can now survive in wealthy neighborhoods. Some things don’t; they still have to have very good booze. Fine Affair has an exceptional wine list, and the course that goes best with wine, the entrees, is better than the appetizers or desserts. Ergo: the wealthy neighborhood restaurant theory needs revision, but not scrapping. (That crayfish lasagna sure needs scrapping, though.)

Fine Affair, 666 N. Sepulveda Blvd., Bel-Air. (213) 476-2848. Open for lunch 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. Monday through Friday, for dinner 6 to 10 p.m. nightly. Full bar. Valet parking. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $55 to $100. Suggested dishes: pleurotte mushroom salad, $12; pike with Japanese cucumber and baby dill sauce, $20; Barbary duck with rhubarb confit, $22; venison loin stuffed with mushroom ragout, $29; creme brulee, $6.