St. Mark’s Tries to Please the Ear and the Palate : THE FOOD : Nice Location; Nice Mix; Nice Chefs--Nice Try

Money is what you think when you walk into St. Mark’s. Somebody has spent a lot of it.

If this thought doesn’t hit you at once, it does as soon as you sink into the smooth suede hug of the booths. Never has a seat embraced you so seductively. Then you look up and notice that despite the barren bunker effect of the architecture, the details here are deluxe. Just look at that sculpture (Duke Ellington by Robert Graham). Just look at those lights.

And now just look at this menu. It is a hip modern tome that doesn’t miss a trick; there is hardly a dish any well-informed eater might want that is not on this list. Sashimi? You’ve got it. Carpaccio? No problem. A nice bowl of onion soup gratinee? Yes indeed.

And now just listen to these sounds. For halfway through dinner (if you arrive between 7 and 8:30) the music will start. You were sitting in a dignified dining room having a quiet conversation with friends when suddenly there was an explosion. Your companions voices faded away until you couldn’t hear a word they were saying. To go from intense conversation to mere mouthings is an oddly disorienting experience.

It is, in fact, much like the entire experience of dining at St. Mark’s. For when you put all those expensive details together what you end up with is curiously forlorn. The whole restaurant seems lost, as if it is having a hard time figuring out what it wants to be.

Consider the food. It’s an ambitious menu, but the chefs (Gil Saulnier, formerly of Le St. Germain and Lisa Stalvey, formerly of Spago) often don’t seem to get the point of what they’re doing. The oysters are good. But the sashimi I tried was badly misguided. Why bury delicate slices of raw yellowtail under a mountain of mushrooms so drenched in sesame oil that the flavor of the fish completely disappears?

Or, for that matter, why put mozzarella into a feuillete of pears and Roquefort cheese where it adds nothing but a slightly rubbery texture? (If you want to taste how truly delicious this dish can be, try the pear and Roquefort tart at Tulipe).

And why serve pasta at all if what you serve comes out in a mangled clump? (One night we tried both a special with pine nuts, sun dried tomatoes and various sundry ingredients, and a regular menu offering of linguine with lamb, kernels of corn and red and yellow peppers; both were terrible).

And yet some dishes are absolutely delicious. Both of the ravioli dishes are. One is stuffed with a mixture of lobster and scallops and served in a fine sauce made of sea urchins and ginger. The other, duck ravioli in a black bean sauce, has an Asian tinge that makes them seem like lusciously upscale potstickers in a fancy Chinese restaurant.

And the rotisserie chicken is the best I’ve had in town. It arrived just the way you always wish chicken would: the skin crisp and golden, the flesh moist and succulent. And sitting next to this beautiful bird was a huge heap of truly wonderful French fries. It made a very satisfying meal.

Roasted salmon was fine too. But boneless leg of lamb was a definite disappointment. A few thin slices of meat sat miserably in a spineless harissa sauce; they were keeping company with a tepid pile of couscous. The boneless prime rib was no more than lackluster, although it did come with a wonderfully crisp little galette of potatoes on the plate. And although there was nothing wrong with the boudin blanc-- large white sausages served with red cabbage and chunky applesauce--it would have been a lot more appealing with some potatoes on the side.

One of the more incongruous aspects of the menu appears at dessert time. St. Mark’s, for all its hip modern airs, actually has souffles on the menu; it may be the only restaurant in town serving sashimi and souffles simultaneously. Other choices include a fine creme brulee with berries, a lemon tart with Armagnac and a rather dry chocolate mousse cake. But it’s the souffles that catch your eye; they are so unexpected that you instantly know they are the thing to order.

If you’re lucky your souffle will arrive just about the time that the band does. You can watch it fall in time to the music, drink a cup of coffee, listen to a few notes, and walk out through those expensive etched glass doors before the place really starts to rock.

St. Mark’s, 23 Windward Ave . , Venice. (213) 452-2222. Open for dinner nightly; late dinner served from 10:30-1 a.m. Full bar. Valet parking. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for 2, food only, $50-$100

Recommended dishes: crackling chicken salad, $10; duck ravioli, $16; lobster and scallop ravioli, $18; rotisserie chicken, $17; souffles, $8.

* THE WINE LIST: See Dan Berger’s article, Page 84.