RESTAURANTS / Max Jacobson : Chinese Dining Experience Is Easy on the Eye, Less So on Palate, Pocketbook

The gentrification of Chinese food has reached new heights of absurdity. Take Five Feet Too, a high-sheen, more finished version of Laguna Beach’s Five Feet. This is the sort of place that attracts glossy Newport Beach types who don’t seem to mind snuggling up to kung pao chicken at $17 a plate .

I do admit, however, that the restaurant has a striking design--lots of jutting, angular cornices; an all-steel open kitchen; designer chairs; floor cacti taller than NBA centers and a collection of modern art (most of which is for sale) that could rival some small museums. Trendy stone-block tables are embellished with fresh orchid petals in little, pool-like candleholders, and long, thin, black-lacquer chopsticks offset by white napkins.

A brilliant visual sense also dominates the food here. Colorful purees get dribbled onto plates, and fan-cut vegetable garnishes, rounds of goat cheese or mounds of raspberries turn up where you least expect them. But many of the dishes that chef-owner Michael Kang prepares feed the eye at the expense of the palate. The well-seasoned kitchen staff at the original Laguna Beach location might be able to bring off Kang’s exotic attempts at contempo Chinese, but the inexperienced Newport team makes you long for anybody else’s 5 combination with sweet-and-sour pork.

On my ill-starred first visit, I let Kang’s creative impulses affect my better judgment. I should have guessed the consequences, for instance, of ordering a smoked-chicken-and-goat-cheese won ton with an apple-raspberry-shallot coulis . Or the smoked Peking duck quesadilla : It came swimming in a funny, sourish pineapple relish and tasted no different than any soggy Mexican version. Furthermore, the duck might as well have been ground beef.

Another annoyance turned up that night in the service department: The waitress informed us that she couldn’t order our appetizers until we decided on our entrees. (I’m bothered by rules that put the restaurant’s own convenience above customer wishes.)

My advice is to avoid any dish that looks overtly precious. Daily specials are the worst offenders. Sauteed swordfish with a toasted almond sesame fig crust and a citrus butter is the kind of dish that could send nouvelle Chinese cuisine back to the Ming era. Worst new idea? Vegetable moo-shu with a tomato fondue--and that’s on the regular menu.

Dishes similar to those at the original Laguna restaurant are a drastic improvement, but not quite as good as those at the source. Mama Kang’s pot stickers with a ginger-soy vinaigrette are somewhat bland, but fun to eat. And the restaurant’s signature dish, a deep-fried whole catfish, is excellent as usual, but comes in a braised tomato citrus sauce not nearly as good as the original ginger sauce.

I had better luck on my second visit. Our first dish, curried spring rolls in a papaya mayonnaise with a lean filling of curried beef, had a delicate crunch and left a sweet, pleasant sensation on the tongue. The evening’s soup--a puree of wild mushrooms and fresh herbs--had a terrific grainy, persistent flavor. And I liked the smoked trout salad with baby greens and papaya interestingly balanced by a vinaigrette flavored with basil, fennel and lemon.

Still, some basic flaws in the kitchen just can’t be glossed over: Tough, dry rice; Fruits misused in sauces and salad dressings. And the irksome habit of serving wok-fried meats in cigarette-package-sized hunks, making them unwieldy. Mongolian lamb loin with shiitake and green onions, for instance, would have been delightful if it had been easier to eat. On the other hand, bite-sized portions wouldn’t have eliminated the chewy texture of veal loin in a dish called Veal Chinois (it came with Sonoma sausage, squash and sun-dried tomatoes).

I did enjoy Kung Pao Three, mostly chicken and peanuts with a few shrimp and scallops thrown in. The dish isn’t necessarily better than one you’d find at your local mom-and-pop Chinese cafe, and it’s probably three times the price. That may offend my wallet but not my taste buds. This restaurant could use a few of these more familiar dishes.

Desserts at Five Feet Too are surely the restaurant’s most consistent course. One night I had a fine cheesecake with a rich, nutty crust. Another I had a smooth, velvety chocolate-hazelnut torte and a cocktail glass filled with fresh berries and a homemade white chocolate raspberry ice cream. The dessert chef knows how to use the humble raspberry. Take note, Mr. Kang.

Five Feet Too is expensive--too expensive. Appetizers range from $5 to $9. Entrees are $15 to $24.

FIVE FEET TOO

1145 Newport Center Drive (in Fashion Island), Newport Beach

(714) 640-5250

Open daily from 11:30 to midnight.

All major credit cards accepted.