RESTAURANT REVIEW : Corporate Mandarin at Taipan

On a Wednesday night, in the heart of Los Angeles’ business district, Taipan was nearly empty. Of course, so were most of the other restaurants in the Wells Fargo Building.

Once seated, however, I noticed that our tablecloth and the black carpet in the large, stark dining room showed signs of just barely surviving a very busy day. That’s because at lunch time the mood at Taipan is very different. Office workers fill the black lacquer chairs and tables. And the starkness of the room--the gray walls, the glass-brick divider that looks like solid ice--is mitigated by the bustle of rushing waiters, the bright daylight, the patterns on women’s dresses and men’s ties, the clank and clatter of dishes in the kitchen.

It is a corporate crowd. Appropriately, the self-described modern Mandarin cooking could also be described as corporate Mandarin, in the sense that much art can be described as corporate art--it is familiar, ample, non-confrontational.

On this weeknight, however, we shared the dining room with a handful of business folk, some of whom had their briefcases open, and were clearly working through their meal. In time, we found ourselves inclined toward the window, looking out on the thicket of buildings outside, the city lights, deserted streets.

On each visit, I’ve been impressed when our agreeable waiters took our rather extensive orders without notes--they got it all accurately, too. The menu, with more than 100 items, is a classic document of today’s more upscale Mandarin cuisine. There is a front page of specialties, almost all made with what the menu calls “chef’s special sauce,” and a back page of dinner specials, multi-course meals of varying composition and price.

Some of the charm of Taipan is its tableside service. Waiters ladle out soup, serve first portions of egg rolls and pan-fried noodles, and are most happy to instruct one on how best to prepare a sauce for your pan-fried dumplings. (Mix soy sauce, gingered vinegar and a bit of red chile sauce; adjust to taste; dunk dumpling.)

Taipan Beef, made with the “chef’s spicy sauce,” was starred on the menu for spiciness, but proved to be just chunks of beef in a thick sweet sauce with no more kick than your average sloppy Joe. Taipan shrimp, served on a bed of delicious, lightly sauteed spinach, were plentiful, meltingly tender, and well-coated in a sauce that tasted--not unpleasantly--like orange juice.

The won-ton soup was OK, though the broth wasn’t as clear and pristine as it might have been. The hot-and-sour soup was a thickened, brown liquid with lots of shredded egg and only the faintest heat and/or sourness. I was far more satisfied with the meatless egg roll, nicely crunchy on the outside, fragrant on the inside and enhanced by sinus-purging hot mustard. I also liked big pads of butterflied, pounded prawns that had been deep fried and coated with sesame seeds.

The most offensive component of Taipan’s food is that, in its across-the-board attempt to be inoffensive, the kitchen manages to be fairly ordinary. With few exceptions, items starred for spiciness were indistinguishable from those items without stars. Only the kung pao chicken had plenty of hot red peppers to avoid.

Fresh scallops in garlic sauce were tender and plentiful and remarkably ungarlicky; hot spiced eggplant was neither hot nor spicy but tasted mostly like all of the seemingly canned, julienned bamboo shoots mixed in with the dish.

Pan-fried noodles had that wonderful occasional chewiness even while being swamped in a bland clear brown sauce.

There is far more varied and flavorful Chinese--even Mandarin--food to be found a mile away in Chinatown. But during the lunch hour, if you find yourself hungry in a downtown skyscraper, Taipan is a fine restaurant of convenience.

Taipan Mandarin Cuisine, Wells Fargo Center, 330 S. Hope St., Los Angeles, (213) 626-6688. Lunch and dinner seven days. Major credit cards accepted. Full bar. Underground validated parking. Dinner for two, food only, $18 to $65.