RESTAURANT REVIEW : Crocodile Rocks at the Beach

For more than 50 years, Santa Monica’s Belle-Vue Restaurant dished up French food, mixed a mean martini and slowly but surely turned into an anachronism of old wood, private booths and outdated cuisine. A face-lift three years ago removed the booths, let in the light, and ran off many old regular customers by placing monkfish with sea urchin sauce side by side with chops and escargot . As with many a face-lift, the result was more unnerving than convincing and did not forestall the inevitable. Today, the Belle-Vue is gone for good; in its stead is the bright, colorful, young and trendy Crocodile Cafe.

I felt a bit odd walking over what was formerly choice Belle-Vue seating area to what is now the Crocodile’s front desk. Whatever dislocation I felt was soon eclipsed by a sense of recognition. I am familiar with Crocodiles, specifically the Cafe in Pasadena, also the Cantina in Glendale. I recognized the friendly greeting, the irrepressibly nice young staff and the wait. The wait . . . giving one’s name at the desk, wandering, chatting, scoring a seat at the bar, checking back occasionally with the hostess, waiting --classic Crocodiliana.

One night, the wait is short: 10 minutes. Another night, there’s no wait at all. I am almost thinking this Crocodile is getting off to a slow start until one Friday night. Twenty minutes, the host promises. Forty-five minutes later, we discover our name has been eliminated from the list. The host apologizes, seats us immediately. Our movie starts in 40 minutes, which would be fine except another 20 minutes goes by before an appetizer comes. “You got behind a 30-person party,” our waiter explains. He promises bread to nibble on. It never arrives. We have our dinners boxed up. I’ll give this franchise a few more months to smooth out procedures before I trust it to get me to my movie on time.

Otherwise, I hasten to admit, the Santa Monica Crocodile experience is reliably pleasant. The new space is pretty, possibly smaller than other locations. The walls are muted sand and chile tones. A halogen gleam bounces off every smooth surface. A few paintings are almost as loud as the lively 16-year-old boys in the next booth, the ones impressing their girlfriends with Beavis and Butt-head imitations. The rest of the crowd is casual, sedate--well, maybe not sedate by old Belle-Vue standards.

The menu will be familiar to Crocodile habitues and novel, even a bit overwhelming, to newcomers.

The first category, “Small Plates and Bowls,” is a bit deceptive. Some of these items--the delicious beef satay, the uninspired Chinese pot stickers--are indeed perfect for a light bite before dinner. Other so-called small plates could be dinner: two fat juicy soft chicken tacos, with wallops of guacamole, could douse virtually any appetite.

Some salads come in appetizer as well as full-meal portions. The Caesar is good, although romaine fans might want to talk a friend into splitting the unusual, grilled romaine salad with spicy pecans and light yogurt dressing: It tastes as good as a campfire smells.

The Large Plates category could also be called Square Meals--each consists of meat, vegetable, starch. A juicy flank steak comes with well-spiced black beans and fresh salsa. The Cuban chicken, a far cry from authentic Cuban chicken, is still a moist, flavorful piece of meat, and comes with absolutely delicious sauteed bananas. (Hey, skip the chicken, get a side of bananas for 95 cents: They’ll go great with the chicken tacos!)

The pork tenderloin Large Plate is fine, but I liked the pork better as carnitas on the Santa Fe pizza, a delicious pie scattered with black beans, tomatoes, cilantro and some sneaky hot chile. The pizza crust is good here. Toppings are tried and true; the Almost Cheeseless pizza, with big hunks of fire-roasted tomatoes, is a personal favorite.

I wish, however, that I’d ordered a plain checca pasta instead of the tomatoey angel hair with clams--the six bland little clams seem redundant. Far richer and seductive is the fettuccine with grilled chicken and an ancho-chile cream.

Most baked desserts come from the Pasadena Baking Company, which means they’re achingly rich and sweet. I had forgotten, until a slab of lemon hazelnut cake at the Croc reminded me, that yes, real butter cream still exists.

* Crocodile Cafe, 101 Santa Monica Blvd., Santa Monica, (310) 394-4783. Lunch and dinner until midnight seven days. Full bar. Major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $17 - $45.