For This Patient, the Best Rx Is Takeout Food : . . . and don’t forget the corkscrew

The worst thing about being in the hospital, as everybody knows, is having to eat the food.

The Reluctant Gourmet didn’t even try. Every time the dietitian tried to hand him a menu, he waved it away. “Not for me,” he said imperiously. When the nurse appeared with the tray, he wouldn’t even let her in the room. “Just because I don’t like going out to eat in fancy restaurants,” he said, “does not mean that I intend to eat the stuff they serve in here.”

The fact that his room and board were costing $550 a day did not faze the RG in the least. “When you’re spending that kind of money,” he said, “what’s a few dollars more?” And then, with his most pathetic look, he added, “Especially when every meal might be your last?”

A few years ago, anyone going to the hospital with this attitude might have starved. But things have changed. Now that the takeout business is booming, eating in the hospital has become a piece of cake. “I’ve been told,” the RG confided, “that the lamb chops here at Cedars-Sinai aren’t bad. But why eat them when there are so many good restaurants close to the hospital?”

Why indeed? These days, what a sick person really needs, in addition to a good doctor, is a faithful friend willing to appear at mealtimes bearing baskets of food.

THURSDAY

The RG knew exactly what he wanted for his first night in the hospital. “Locanda Veneta is right across the street,” he said, “and I’d really love a little pasta.”

The people at the restaurant didn’t bat an eyelash when I appeared with this request. “You can’t imagine how much food we send over to the hospital,” said co-owner Jean-Louis De Mori. “What would you like?” In no time at all they had packed up a colorful salad with balsamic dressing, some wonderful marinated peppers and an enormous portion of spaghetti with tomato and basil sauce. De Mori threw in what must have been half a loaf of bread, then looked around. “You’d better have a little wine as well,” he said adding a bottle to the bag.

The RG was thrilled with the salad. He ate every pepper. “The pasta’s still hot,” he exclaimed, twirling it on a plastic fork. “If you’d remembered to ask for a corkscrew, this would be a perfect meal.”

The corkscrew was a problem. For although the people in the kitchen at Cedars were as helpful as they could be, they couldn’t seem to locate a corkscrew. What did we do? In the end we just pushed the cork in with the blunt edge of a knife and poured the wine. “It’s sort of like a picnic,” said the RG, “except that there aren’t any ants.”

Locanda Veneta, 8638 W . 3rd St., Los Angeles. (213) 274-1893.

FRIDAY

“You know what I’d really like for lunch?” said the RG when I walked in for my morning visit. I was afraid to ask. “That wonderful salade nicoise they make at Campanile. You know--rare tuna, lots of lettuce, some hard-boiled egg and a little toast with olive puree. It would make me very happy.”

“But Campanile’s not even open for lunch,” I protested. He gave me his most charming smile, turned so that I was looking straight at his I.V. and said, “I’m sure they’d be happy to help a sick man.”

“I’ll call and ask,” I said weakly. I called. I asked. They were happy to help a sick man. “While you’re at it,” said the RG, “why not pick up a loaf of that wonderful walnut bread? That way I’ll have something to snack on if I start feeling hungry before dinner time.”

By dinner time he had eaten the whole loaf of bread from Campanile’s La Brea Bakery and he was starving. “I don’t have much to think about except food,” he said. “And I’ve been thinking of pasta all day.”

Did he want me to go back to Locanda Veneta? “It is one of my favorite restaurants,” he said, “but let’s try for a little variety.” He thought dinner from Pazzia would be nice.

Dinner from Pazzia was nice. They packed up an antipasto salad, some plump ravioli in a light sage butter and their own wonderful bread. They even threw in a quarter pound of butter wrapped in aluminum foil. “You see,” said the RG, “these days everybody serves takeout food. And since you remembered to bring wine and a corkscrew, this really has been a perfect dinner. Now, about tomorrow’s meals. . . .”

Campanile, 624 S. La Brea Ave., Los Angeles. (213) 938-1447; Pazzia, 755 N. La Cienega Blvd., West Hollywood. (213) 657-9271.

SATURDAY

The RG wanted a Caesar salad. He wanted a piece of grilled fish. He wanted, in fact, lunch from the Ivy. “I don’t know,” I said dubiously, reminding him how generally unhelpful they tend to be at that restaurant. “They’ll probably tell me they don’t pack food to go.”

“Try,” urged the RG.

The hostess looked unhappy. “We don’t make food to go,” she said. I explained that it was for someone who was ill. “I’ll ask,” she said, sounding even more doubtful and disappearing into the back. “I knew they wouldn’t do it,” I whispered to the air.

I was wrong. When she came back, the hostess had the manager in tow and he could hardly have been more helpful. He made suggestions for food that traveled well, offered me a seat and wondered if I’d care for anything while I waited.

The Ivy not only packed the food, they packed it well. A loaf of their delicious Anadama bread was wrapped in foil. The Caesar salad was huge and the dressing was sealed in a special little container on the side. The salmon was perfectly grilled (and magically still warm when I got it to the hospital) and the tomatillo sauce was in another little container on the side. The rice was delicious.

The RG liked his lunch so much that he wanted the same thing for dinner. This time I called Trumps--a restaurant that makes a point of packing meals to go.

And they do it beautifully. Once again the food arrived in lots of little containers. The salmon was hot. The Caesar salad had dressing on the side. There were rolls, rosettes of butter in little cups and tiny pots of custard for dessert. And gilding the lily was a whole box of homemade cookies--complete with flowers. “Ah,” said the RG, “hospital food. I think I’m going to miss it.”

The Ivy, 113 N. Robertson Blvd., Los Angeles. (213) 274-8303; Trumps, 8764 Melrose Ave., West Hollywood. (213) 855-1480.

SUNDAY

Sunday lunch was more of a problem than I’d thought it would be. The RG had fond memories of that salad from Campanile; they were closed. He thought pasta from Locanda Veneta would be swell; they were closed too. In the end I stopped at a homey little place called Day Dreams in Larchmont Village and bought him a turkey sandwich.

“We roast our own turkeys,” said the woman behind the counter, stuffing hefty amounts of meat between slices of bread. She suggested that I take a smoothie too. “I don’t think so,” I hesitated, knowing that the RG wouldn’t dream of drinking anything with a name like that. “They’re really wonderful,” she urged. “I’ll make it with fresh strawberries.”

I took it. He drank it. “What is this delicious stuff?” he wanted to know. “I can’t remember what it’s called,” I lied.

And what did the RG want for dinner? “Something spicy,” he said. “Surprise me.”

And I did. I stopped at the East India Grill and picked up a veritable feast. “I could smell the food wafting down the hall in front of you,” said the RG., sitting up in anticipation.

It tasted even better. I found myself hovering at the edge of his bed, picking up fat succulent shrimps with my fingers and licking off the spicy cilantro and coconut sauce. I watched as he spooned the dal over the basmati rice, and then leaned over for a taste. When the heat got too intense, we both cooled down with a raita of yogurt and cucumbers. Fortunately I had thought to ask for an extra order of naan , the bread that they make in the tandoori oven.

“Maybe I’m just bored,” said the RG. “But I can’t remember the last time I ate this many good meals in a row.”

Day Dreams, 125 N. Larchmont Blvd., Los Angeles. (213) 463-2814; East India Grill, 345 N. La Brea Ave., Los Angeles. (213) 936-8844.

MONDAY

The RG thought he’d like something really unique to celebrate his departure from the hospital. Katsu Third is surely among the most unique restaurants in America--and it’s just across the street from Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.

“It looks more like an art gallery than a place to eat,” said the RG. “It’s certainly a change from the hospital.”

And so was the food. The RG contemplated a menu that offered such dishes as an egg roll made of halibut wrapped up in bean curd skin, deep fried, sliced and served in a buttery citrus sauce. Or sashimi salad, a dish that tries to make East meet West. The RG went down the menu, rejecting monkfish pate in red wine sauce, tofu salad, a gratin of lobster, clam soup. . . . “There’s nothing here I want to eat,” he complained. “Have the steak,” I said.

He did. He didn’t like it much. It was very small, and the bowl of rice that came with it didn’t do much to improve his mood. Meanwhile, I was happily eating a luxurious lobster tempura . In fact, as I later learned, the best dishes at Katsu Third are the ones that stay closest to traditional Japanese fare. The sashimi’s good, chawan mushi is delicious, and the tempura dishes are delightful. But as soon as the menu moves towards originality, it seems to get lost.

“I guess this wasn’t the greatest place to bring you for your first meal out of the hospital,” I said. The RG smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m free. Tomorrow night we can go out and get a really enormous steak. And for once you won’t even have to remember to bring along a corkscrew.”

Katsu Third, 8636 West 3rd St., West Hollywood. (213) 273-3605. DR, SUZANNE DUNAWAY