DREAM GRILL : Enter Through an Alley, Past a Mahogany Bar, Into Another World--Almost in Another Era

Welcome to the Grill,” says the dapper maitre d’, ushering you past a polished mahogany bar into a large room with a high, coffered ceiling, turn-of-the-century brass lamps with soothing green glass shades and darker green leather booths. The setting could be a classic American grill in Manhattan, Chicago or San Francisco. The era: the ‘30s or ‘40s. But it’s early 1994, and we’re just off Rodeo Drive, where a permanent layer of Giorgio perfume hangs in the air.

Yet somehow I’m sneaking a peek to see if Nick and Nora of “The Thin Man” films are at the next table. And I’m wishing I had worn a hat. At the very least, I could order a martini. I do. It’s perfect. Our waiter, an older man with a professional demeanor, slips us a small plate of sauteed sweet peppers, red and green. In his white jacket, he seems as solicitous as an old-fashioned family doctor.

Shall we have a fat golden oval of crab cake packed solid with fresh crab? Half a dozen oysters on the half shell? Steamed littleneck clams heaped high in the bowl and served in a lemony broth accented with bay leaf and a slice of lemon? Meaty, coral-streaked shrimp and a great version of the requisite ruddy sauce take shrimp cocktail well beyond the cliche. I could make an entire meal of the splendid steak tartare, which comes to the table faultlessly seasoned, with plenty of hot toast to spread it on. (A good many of the appetizers can also be ordered in main-course sizes.)

It’s rare to find a place that does equally well with seafood and with meat, but that is the case here. Regulars know to reserve their orders of pan-fried soft-shell crabs and platters of sweet, firm-fleshed Florida stone crab claws in season. And if John Dory is on the menu, order the big filet of this flavorful fish topped simply with a lemon butter.

The steaks are impressive cuts of prime, well-marbled meat that tastes the way steaks used to taste. The T-bone could feed two, but when it comes to the New York steak topped with crushed black peppercorns, bacon and caramelized onions, I’ll eat all 16 ounces by myself, thank you very much. For hard-core carnivores, choosing is a real difficulty. The double lamb chops are among the best I’ve ever tasted; add some creamed spinach and a plate of the frilly fried onions and shoestring potatoes, and go directly to heaven. Top-quality meat makes all the difference with the burger, too, a mix of chuck and prime sirloin. Even the pickle seems to have a superior pedigree.

Let other restaurants occupy the cutting edge. The Grill keeps to a steady course. The food is all familiar fare. No need to ask the waiter to translate a thing. What’s unusual is the polished execution, breathing new life into these old standards. Take a classic dish such as liver and onions. The delicate calf’s liver, smothered in silky, caramelized onions and crisp, smoky bacon, would convert any die-hard liver-hater. The benchmark corned-beef hash is an utterly seductive plate of diced, lean corned beef, fried potatoes and bits of browned onion cushioning two perfectly poached eggs. The portion, however, is dauntingly large, and I flag before the finish. The waiter comes back. “Didn’t you like it?”

“Yes, I did. It’s just too much for me.”

“This,” he replies, “is not a restaurant for the fainthearted.”

I’ve had to cry uncle more than once, departing ignominiously with my little doggie bag. So I began to count how many others leave in the same fix, and I’d say the figure is roughly 50%. When partners Bob Spivak, Mike Weinstock and Dick Shapiro first talked about opening a restaurant together, it was the height of nouvelle cuisine--little portions, big prices. They decided to provide the antidote: honest, straightforward, traditional American grill served with a generous hand. They spent time at the venerable Tadich Grill and Jack’s restaurant in San Francisco, and Spivak visited 57 New York establishments with vintage bars in three days. The illusion of age and tradition in the restaurant they created is so good, it’s hard to believe that Jan. 31 is only the Grill’s 10th birthday.

The courteous, thoroughly professional service seems to date from another era. They don’t overbook; they don’t punish you for being late; they don’t suggest you’re wrong when you’re right about a corked wine. The entire restaurant functions like a well-maintained machine. John Sola, the chef who opened the Grill, is still executive chef. Maitre d’ Allan Ludwig has been on board since Day 1.

The one place the Grill disappoints is in the desserts. The much-touted apple pie is a tall wedge of finely sliced apples without much flavor. The raisin-studded rice pudding is pedestrian, and the hot-fudge-sundae sauce is more like hot chocolate than fudge. If you can pass on the desserts (and not many people can make it that far anyway), the Grill offers an immensely satisfying restaurant experience. And it’s actually quiet enough to talk.

The Grill, 9560 Dayton Way, Beverly Hills; (310) 276-0615. Open for lunch and dinner Monday through Saturday. Full bar. Valet parking in evening; street and lot parking during the day. All major credit cards accepted. Lunch for two, food only, $40 to $65; dinner for two, food only, $40 to $95.