Restaurants : FOOD FOR THE STARS : Asylum’s Service Is Impeccable, and the Food Is a Lot Better Than It Has to Be

Forget about Spago. Adieu to Le Dome. Say ta-ta to Trumps and adios to The Ivy. Bid Mortons a fond farewell. The very latest place is Asylum.

If you didn’t already know it, you will as soon as you arrive: The valet won’t even take your car until you’ve assured him that you have a reservation. Lying is useless; there are ropes at the door, and the man standing by them won’t let you through until he’s found your name on his list. This is all so irritating that you may be tempted to turn around and go have dinner at a place with fewer pretensions. But then you walk through the door . . . and discover what the fuss is all about.

This is certainly the most beautiful room in L.A. And either the room--with its burnished walls and golden light--makes everybody look especially wonderful, or it really is filled with the best-looking people you’ve ever seen. In the warm elegance of this space, you can’t help feeling as if you have somehow stumbled into a mad and exotic party filled with people you wish you could meet. Isn’t that Giorgio Armani over there in the corner? Could that be Mickey Rourke by the door? Surely it’s Gregory Hines sitting right behind you? And you haven’t even made it into the back room yet.

Back here it is darker, with walls like unpolished pewter, cozy chairs hugging a huge fireplace and deep, shadowy booths that look as if a person could crawl into them and disappear for days. The front room has its dignity, but here it’s just one big party that seems to get louder and larger as the night wears on. By midnight, men are sitting in their booths shouting, “Girls, girls!” at women with bodies you thought only an airbrush could create.

Restaurants seem increasingly compelled to offer entertainment, but this one doesn’t have to: This restaurant is the entertainment. It’s the Industry on parade--and if Hollywood has a more compelling cliche than this room, with its hungry starlets and prowling producers, I haven’t found it.

Food seems sort of beside the point in a place like this. I think most people would happily eat peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches just to be part of the scene. But they don’t have to: The service is impeccable, and the food is a lot better than it has to be.

Even on its opening nights, the place ran like a well-oiled machine. The waiters may look like turn-of-the-century Italian artillery cadets, but they really know their stuff. Chef Guy LeRoy (he was best man at Wolfgang Puck’s wedding) knows his stuff, too: The prices are quite moderate (a careful couple could get out the door for $60), and the food is quite good.

My favorite appetizers were the most unusual. I particularly liked a shocking-pink soup of pureed beets dotted with little white tofu dumplings. The contrast between the sweet richness of the beet soup and the clean, fresh lightness of the dumplings was extraordinary.

I also liked the smoked veal-loin carpaccio, which came drizzled with a sort of vinaigrette of parsley. My next favorite was the Indian-style skewers of spiced lamb served with tabbouleh, an eggplant puree and some rather tough little crackers. The Caesar salad is good (although people who don’t like anchovies may not be thrilled by the large, whole anchovies lounging on the plate), and I loved the fried parsley served with the shrimp popcorn. On the other hand, I found the heaps of tuna tartare sort of clunky and unappetizing, and I was not at all taken with the rather tasteless crab fritters (the grilled-vegetable salsa served on the side was shrill with onions).

Giant blinis arrived one night with a perfect trio of home-smoked fish--soft, silky scallops, buttery sturgeon, smooth salmon--all scattered with caviar. It was more luxury than most of us ever see for $10. Two nights later, however, the fish had a tattered quality, as if it had overstayed its time in the smoker, and the blini itself was cold and heavy. Pappardelle made of corn and black pepper were wonderful one night--rich with rock shrimp and bits of lobster--but on another night, the pasta came in a tangled clump that was almost impossible to eat.

The problem is that the food doesn’t seem to have a center; it’s as Hollywood as the decor. It begins with the Mediterranean but soon departs on forays into China (rather delicious crispy duck), side trips into Mexico (grilled turkey breast served with tamales and chorizo sauce) and the occasional trek to the South Seas (recurring pineapple chutney). It even has a pure American option in the form of steak, mushrooms and mashed potatoes.

Among the entrees, I favored goat-cheese-stuffed grilled chicken (particularly on the night that the French fries were not limp) and grilled rare tuna in a sesame-peppercorn crust. The heftiest entree, the braised lamb shank, comes with saffron-flavored couscous and grilled eggplant; the spiciest, the lobster risotto, was, on one occasion, hot to the point of absurdity.

Desserts are the weakest part of the menu. But what can you expect from a plate of cookies called “a little bit of bliss”? What I did not expect was a cookie with the flavor and consistency of toothpaste. Nor did I think much of a tart made of figs and peaches; the bread pudding was nothing to rave about, and although I liked the looks of a tower of chocolate filled with mousse and decorated with raspberries, I wasn’t seduced by the flavor. The best dessert I tried? Vanilla ice cream served in a cookie cup with berries and caramel-whiskey sauce.

No matter what you are eating, by the time you finish dessert you will probably find that you simply don’t want to leave. As the noise level climbs to a horrifying roar, you find yourself just sort of sitting there, looking for an excuse to stay. This room has a magic all its own.

You do have to leave, of course. But you can always come back--provided that they let you in the door.

Recommended dishes: beet soup, $5; giant blinis, $10; veal carpaccio, $7.50; grilled tuna, $17.50; crispy duck, $19.50; grilled chicken, $15.50; ice cream with caramel-whiskey sauce, $6.

Asylum, 182 N. Robertson Blvd., Beverly Hills; (213) 657-8484. Open for dinner daily except Sunday. Full bar. Valet parking. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $45-$80.