Is This L.A.’s Strangest Hotel Restaurant? : At the Midtown Hilton’s Lotus Restaurant, you can eat jellyfish while watching a freeway

Lotus Restaurant, 400 N. Vermont Avenue, Los Angeles. (213) 661-8011. Open for lunch and dinner daily. Full bar. Parking in garage. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $30-$60.

Dear Ms. Reichl,

I am writing on behalf of the Lotus Restaurant in my district. For the last 2 1/2 years the Lotus has been a bright spot in the rather dim world of hotel eateries, lending a light and airy touch to the Midtown Hilton on Vermont Avenue, above the Hollywood Freeway.

I’d like to suggest The Times send a reviewer to sample delicacies like minced lobster, scallops crispy and tender, chicken in spiced tangerine sauce and lamb sauteed with leek. I’ve found the Lotus’ Mandarin cuisine to be as good as that of the best restaurants in Taipei.

I hope I’ve whetted your appetite for the Lotus. If I can help you any further, feel free to give me a call.

Sincerely,

Councilman Michael Woo

This is what I think when I get the letter: “What a hard-working Councilman. I wonder if he’s this good to all his constituents?” Then I reread the letter, and my natural cynicism comes bubbling to the surface. As good as Taipei? In my mind I picture the location: a strange lonely Hilton that looks as if it traveled down the Hollywood Freeway as far as the Vermont exit and then got stuck by the side of the road. It’s hard to believe that it could house a good Chinese restaurant, and almost impossible to believe that it could house one frequented by somebody you see on TV almost every night.

I try just about every restaurant that readers recommend, but I am skeptical of this one. What does a city councilman know about food? The letter disappears into a pile on my desk. This is in February; it is July before it surfaces again. Then a visiting Australian food journalist wants to be taken out for dinner, I am eager to stay close to downtown, and I suddenly remember the Lotus. “I’m told it’s as good as the best restaurants of Taiwan,” I say brightly into the phone.

But my heart sinks when I approach the hotel. Close up this particular Hilton is even less encouraging than it is from the street. The valet looks as if he hasn’t parked a vehicle in 20 years, and he stares at you with some astonishment when you actually try to leave your car with him. He points vaguely off in the distance mumbling something about self parking, but when you drive into the garage all the parking spaces seem to have signs saying “Reserved for Denny’s customers.” It’s clear that Denny’s has precedence over the Lotus; I think nervously of the visiting journalist, beginning to doubt that Woo has ever set foot in the place.

My apprehension increases when I enter the hotel. The lobby is filled with a gaudy mismatched assortment of furniture that would not have pleased Conrad Hilton. Can this be the right place? Is Mike Woo crazy? I negotiate the vast space and reach the table with a mouthful of apologies.

Fortunately, they never get uttered. For before I can manage to mumble a word the journalist is embracing me and saying, “What an amazing menu! I can’t wait to try the beef tendon with leek.” Then he turns to point out the window and says, “And isn’t this the quintessential Los Angeles restaurant?”

No restaurant in the world has quite the view that this one does: the restaurant’s large picture window hangs over the freeway so that diners look down and sense the pulse of the city zipping past their feet. “I’m thrilled,” says the Australian, his eyes moving back and forth between the dense traffic on the freeway and the dense dishes on the menu. These include such serious offerings as Chinese eel with yellow chives, whole pork shoulder in brown sauce and vegetarian goose--at serious prices. “What a sly person you are,” says the Australian. “How did you ever discover such a restaurant?”

I give him my “I have my methods” smile while we try to one-up each other in ordering. He chooses the beef tendon. I opt for the jellyfish with candied pine nuts. He counters by professing a great desire for mustard green with bean curd sheets. I declare my undying love for eel. The waiter looks disturbed. “Will you like it? Will you like it?” he squeaks in a worried voice, trying to steer us towards sizzling rice soup and innocuous shrimp dishes. He seems delighted to be able to tell us that there are no eels. “You can’t get live eels here and we don’t like the imported eels that you can get,” he says solemnly. He looks relieved when we replace them with Shanghai dumplings.

The dumplings, served with black vinegar and shreds of fresh ginger are delicious, although the wrappings are little bit on the thick side. The jellyfish is wonderful--crisp, crunchy and perfumed with sesame oil, the strips are the perfect counterfoil to the candied pine nuts. The beef tendon is a real hit. The dish might sound scary, but it’s more about texture than taste. Here the gelatinous tendons are cooked to a delightful chewiness then blitzed with just enough hot red pepper to give them a little buzz. The waiter is giving us sidelong glances, unable to believe that we are actually eating all of this. My Australian guest glances around at the almost entirely Chinese clientele and looks smug as he shovels mustard green with bean curd sheets into his mouth. “You might call this Chinese pasta with greens,” he says. He has a point.

Just then the waiter walks up with a whole pork shoulder cooked in brown sauce. “I told you it would be too much,” he sighs. Indeed the dish is easily enough to feed a table of eight--generously. “Oh,” says the Australian, “we’ll take it home. This is the best Chinese restaurant I’ve been to in Los Angeles, and I wouldn’t want to waste a bite.” The waiter is so gratified by this that he insists on offering us a complimentary plate of cut-up fruit. “Next time you come,” he says conspiratorially, “I’ll buy you one of our desserts. We do dessert you don’t even find in Monterey Park.”

Now I’m curious. Does Mike Woo know anything about food? Has he actually been to the restaurant? I really want to know, so I call him up and ask him if he’ll have dinner at the Lotus with me.

He arrives a bit late, his wife, Susan Fong, a bit later. Both say they’ve gotten lost in the parking garage--no surprise to me. The surprise is that the manager greets them with enormous warmth and immediately begins to ask about the family. “You really do come here,” I blurt out before I can snatch the words back. The councilman looks at me with some shock, as if to say, “Did you take me for a liar?”

What he actually says is “We don’t eat Chinese food away from Chinatown. Except when we eat here. This place is very popular with visiting businessmen from Taipei.” He and Fong then settle in for a discussion of our menu with the manager; all three of them do this with the special seriousness that the Chinese reserve for food. They decide on a cold plate with jelly fish, drunken chicken and vegetarian goose. Fong wants the duck pate with egg; Woo demurs, talking about cholesterol.

They discuss which scallop dish to order. “Your father likes the tender and crispy kind,” says the manager, and Woo nods. They order fried rice. Fong insists upon sauteed pea shoots. “They’re not on the menu,” she says, “but most good Chinese restaurants have them when they’re in season.” Finally, they decide to round out the dinner with pork filet in lotus leaves. Manager Alice Lin looks worried. “Will they like it?” she keeps asking.

Yes, we like it. A lot. The vegetarian goose--a Shanghai specialty--is a wondrous concoction made of dried bean curd sheets and various vegetables. The drunken chicken is flavorful, the meat soft and silken from the days it has spent in a wine marinade. The duck pate is rich and exotic (the councilman, in spite of watching his cholesterol, takes a few bites), and the jellyfish every bit as good as it was the last time.

I’m least enthralled with the scallops--huge fried ones in a sticky orange sauce. But the pea shoots (another Shanghai specialty) are incredibly good and the steamed, marinated pork filet is a savory delight. “This isn’t really enough people for a Chinese meal,” says Woo, lamenting that we have not been able to order the special beggar’s chicken. “You just can’t order enough with only four people.” He begins to mention all the dishes we are missing, and in spite of all I’ve eaten I get hungry again just thinking about them.

Two days later I receive another note from Woo. “We’d like to invite you to join me and my family (my parents, my sisters and their families and Susan) for dinner sometime at a Chinese restaurant for a more typical family dinner--salted fish and ground pork, steamed bean curd with ground fish, etc. Slightly less fancy than what we had last night, but still very tasty.”

Any time councilman. When it comes to food, you’ve got my vote.

Recommended dishes: cold appetizer plate, $13.50; sizzling rice soup, $4.25; Shanghai dumplings, $5.50; beef tendon with leek, $11.50; whole pork shoulder, $16.50; beggar’s chicken, $25