RESTAURANT REVIEW : It Means Party in Russian : From Friday to Saturday, the Balalayka fills with people from the republics of the former Soviet Union who feast on the banquet offerings.

“Take away the surrounding republics,” says Robert Chargchian, chef/owner of Reseda’s Balalayka, “and Russian cuisine loses its richness.”

Chargchian may be biased in this assessment, but he’s probably right. Russians rely on salt, garlic and dill to season their dishes. Most of the country is too cold for cultivating spices such as coriander, cumin and red pepper, the very things that give life to dishes in the Caucasus, where Chargchian hails from.

The majority of Russian restaurants in Greater Los Angeles are housed in vast, dark chambers, cavernously empty during the week and jammed to the rafters on weekends. Balalayka is no exception. One Thursday evening, my friends and I had the place virtually to ourselves, while a rather forlorn-looking duo played saxophone and keyboard arrangements of songs such as “ Bei Mir Bist Du Schon “ without a single dancer on the floor to spur them on.

On weekends, it’s different. From Friday to Sunday, the restaurant fills with people from the various republics of the former Soviet Union, who assemble to feast on Chargchian’s banquet table, a fabulous spread of hot and cold Russian hors d’oeuvres. On those nights, the party is definitely not over at Balalayka, where guests drink from icy bottles of Smirnoff, (included in the price of dinner for parties of five or more), dance to the rhythms of the Balalayka dance band (with vigor) and eat as if there were no tomorrow.

A good performer like Chargchian, of course, plays to an empty house with the same energy reserved for a packed one. Even on a slow night, there’s rarely a slip in this kitchen, where the cuisines of Armenia, Georgia, Siberia, Ukraine and even Mother Russia are well represented. Chargchian may be Armenian, but he learned to cook in Kharkov, one of the Ukraine’s biggest cities, and his repertoire of dishes is nearly as vast as the Russian land itself.

If it gets too hot on the dance floor, zakuski (cold appetizers) should be just the thing to cool you down. The unassumingly named assorted fish turns out to be a spectacularly delicious platterful of home-cured sturgeon and salmon, often punctuated by delicate roulades such as a flavorful pinwheel of salmon and halibut. The equally unassuming assorted meat can mean fine, fatty roulades of chicken, baked veal crusted with garlic and black pepper or marinated beef and lamb, all sliced thin enough to see through.

Cold salads, marinated mushrooms and assorted pickles get your blood going, too. Eggplant Russian-style is a hearty, russet-colored dip with a peppery bite. Stolichny salad is a melange of potatoes, peas, sour cream, chicken meat and dill, served in scoops like the world’s best potato salad. The mushrooms and pickles are shot through with vinegar and garlic. So far, so Russian.

Well, not quite. That isn’t ketchup in the little sauce boat the waiter places on your table with the appetizers. It’s tkemali, a traditional Georgian condiment whose name means “sour plum.” Chargchian’s tangy tkemali is made of pomegranate, garlic, coriander and red pepper. Take it from me, it has magical properties.

When a Russian restaurant refers to hot appetizers, it usually means dumplings, an international affair. Pelmeni come from Siberia: bite-sized pockets of pinched dough with a meat filling, served in buttery chicken stock. The Ukraine brings us vareniki, a softer dumpling filled with mashed potato, farmer’s cheese or sour cherry (the latter available weekends, only) and often topped with browned onions. Finally there are khingali from Georgia, baseball-size spheroids with a thick hide and a meat stuffing enlivened by garlic and coriander. Whew! We’re supposed to eat dinner after this?

Da. But first, soup. The house borscht can be served cold or hot, a delicious beet soup with chunks of meat and potato garnished with a dilled sour cream. Kharcho takes us back to the Caucasus, a spicy, lemony Georgian lamb broth with rice that makes a good cold-weather mainstay.

OK, the tour is leaving. Lamb po-Karski is Armenian and sensational--three loin chops marinated in (I’m guessing here) pomegranate juice, garlic and more coriander. Georgia brings us tabaka, a Cornish game hen flattened out (really flattened out) and grilled, served with garlic sauce. I’d describe it as the world’s only poultry cracker.

Chicken Kiev comes from the Ukraine, of course, and it’s a properly buttery breast of chicken dipped in bread crumbs and deep fried, with butter and herbs running out of the center. And Russia provides heavier dishes better suited to a cold climate. Chargchian’s beef Stroganoff is really a mushroom dish--a thick, creamy casserole ringed by deep-fried straw potatoes, with a few cubes of beef added to keep it honest.

As for cutlet otbivnoy (that’s Russian for “pounded”), it’s sort of a pork schnitzel, coated with bread crumbs and rich with butter. This kind of richness, Russian cuisine can afford to lose, shortages or no shortages.

Where and When

Location: Balalayka, 19655 Sherman Way, Reseda

Suggested dishes: (dinner prices, including entertainment charge) assorted meat (serves two) $9.95; khingali, $9.95; kharcho, $4.50; po-Karski, $19.95.

Hours: Lunch noon-3 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday; dinner 6-10 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday, 6 p.m.-2 a.m. Friday-Sunday; brunch noon-4 p.m. Sunday.

Price: Dinner for two, $30-$70. Full bar. Parking lot. MasterCard and Visa accepted.

Call: (818) 349-5300.