Rusty Pelican’s Eclectic Cookery Comes to Roost in Mission Valley

One of these fine days, food historians will classify a peculiarly American branch of world gastronomy as “suburban cooking.”

The phenomenon has been with us at least since the 1950s, when women’s magazines introduced bizarre dishes, compounded of packaged ingredients, that the magazines assured their readers were “smart” and modern.

Convenience is a hallmark of this style of cooking, but “gourmet” qualities, no matter how unlikely, always are implied. Take, for example, the “skillet lasagna” introduced by a manufacturer in the early 1970s. It bears not the slightest resemblance to real lasagna, but its soupy consistency and foreign-sounding name make it an exemplar of suburban cooking.

Restaurant chains came along well after suburban cooking developed. Several chains have adopted some of its features, especially an insistence on creating dishes that sound foreign while being familiarly and comfortably American in most other respects. One of the nicer things that can be said about restaurant-style suburban cooking is that it has remained largely in the suburbs, leaving city dwellers untroubled by its homespun pretensions.

But incursions are being made. In San Diego, the natural spot for an invasion is Mission Valley, which, because of its freeways and low-slung shopping centers, is in many ways a suburban island in the city. It is here that the Rusty Pelican chain has chosen to open a branch.

Cuisine a la Rusty Pelican, in many ways the epitome of restaurant-style suburban cooking, must strike a responsive chord, because the place seems remarkably busy. Visits were made on Monday and Tuesday evenings, which are graveyard nights for most eateries, and on both occasions the dining rooms were still full at 9 p.m., an hour at which most restaurateurs start to think about locking up.

What makes the Rusty Pelican seem so suburban in its style--other than the decor, which includes a rusty-looking pelican sculpture near the entrance--is the way it plays fast and loose with elements of foreign cooking to produce what are essentially American results. (Sometimes the results are ersatz, and hard to classify in any cuisine.)

This isn’t to say that the cooking lacks savor, because some dishes are rather good. But there is an air of amateurism about others that suggests cheerful experimentation in the kitchen.

You need look no further than the first entry on the menu to find a prime example of this jumbling of various cuisines to produce an original, if slightly skewed, dish. Called ichiban , its menu description reads “bites of fresh seafood and shrimp marinated in sake, soy sauce and thyme. Skewered, broiled and served with chili ancho ( sic ) mayonnaise.”

The name and marinade (except for the thyme) are Japanese; the mayonnaise, nicely heated with crushed ancho chilies, is nouvelle Southwestern, and the technique is both international and American barbecue. The result of this wild mix of styles actually tastes pretty good (especially because of the sauce), which just goes to show that suburban cooking does have its moments.

The appetizer list goes directly to the sources with Japanese sashimi and all-American shrimp cocktail and raw clams and oysters. An entry that specifies mussels steamed in a “spiced Pernod cream and wine broth” sounds like suburban-style French.

The menu concentrates heavily on seafood (a montage of iced fish, frozen in active poses in a glass case, dominates the foyer), but offers chicken and steak as well, and generally takes a “something for everyone” approach that includes many of the types of cooking currently in favor among Southern Californians.

There is, of course, pasta, in the form of fettuccine topped with clams or salmon and a “creamy Alfredo sauce.” It cannot be said too many times that there is no such thing, since Alfredo is a method of combining ingredients, not a prepared sauce.

The restaurant tosses an excellent Caesar salad at the table, a good choice for diners who order their entrees a la carte. Full dinners include the choice of overly thickened clam chowder; simple green or spinach salads, and such side dishes as baked or deep-fried potatoes, sliced tomatoes and mixed vegetables. (These last, lightly and happily steamed to the al dente stage, are sprinkled with a strong grated cheese that not only does them no good, but also is at odds with many of the entrees.)

Among standing entrees are a tarragon-lemon-mustard-flavored grilled chicken breast that, in its list of flavorings, is convincingly French; however, the chicken was somewhat underdone and the flavorings had been used too sparingly to make any impact. A dish called “firepot shrimp” seems to hint at the Chinese in its name, although the menu simply describes it as “succulent sauteed shrimp smothered in a piquant sauce.” The shrimp were overcooked and dry, and the sauce seemed largely composed of Szechuan chili oil, which is hot, if not particularly flavorful, on its own--it is meant as a seasoning, not as a principal ingredient.

The daily fish list is lengthy and impressive, and offers a profusion of unsauced char-broiled and sauteed specimens, including Lake Superior whitefish, local shark and halibut, Louisiana catfish and king salmon from Oregon. The list also offers plenty of gussied-up dishes that return us to the fishy realm of suburban cuisine, such as the mahi mahi Mokihana, “marinated in a homemade African-style barbecue sauce.”

The char-broiled Hawaiian ahi in “Chinese pesto sauce” seemed more Japanese than anything else because of the strips of pickled ginger that topped the fish; pesto is Italian, and when anything Italian suddenly is classified as Chinese, we know we’re in the land of unrestrained improvisation. Ahi is a beef-like fish that can stand up to strong garnishes and sauces, and this was a healthy slab, although the treatment was not impressive.

The menu is true to itself to the last, and concludes with desserts that run from a very respectable homemade cheesecake to a wildly odd pecan pie topped with chocolate mousse, a combination that seems unlikely in theory and is awful in practice. But the cheesecake is quite good, the filling creamy and spiked with a strong hint of cinnamon.

RUSTY PELICAN

5010 Mission Center Road

291-6974

Lunch and dinner daily.

Credit cards accepted.

Dinner for two, including a glass of wine each, tax and tip, about $30 to $80.