TO MARKET, TO MARKET : Classic Dishes at This Venice Hangout Still Shine, Despite a New Chef and a Retooled Menu

It’s been nearly 10 years since 72 Market St. blazed its way onto the restaurant scene with its radical concrete decor, “kick-ass” chili and a monumental all-American meatloaf. The original chef, Leonard Schwartz, took these homely American classics and gave them a chef’s polish. Schwartz decamped to Maple Drive in Beverly Hills five years ago, and 72 Market has since had its ups and downs. Early this spring, the owners brought in French chef Roland Gibert, who cooked up a storm at the late Tulipe. At first, he contributed just a handful of specials each night. And then, after Easter, the restaurant unveiled a new menu--a hybrid of old familiars and Gibert’s new dishes.

If you come, as I did, looking for the gutsy French cooking Gibert was known for in the late ‘80s, you’re going to be disenchanted. So far, his contributions have been much less ambitious: mostly safe, stylish bistro fare. If we didn’t already know what a bold and exciting cook Gibert can be, it wouldn’t be such a disappointment. His fans remember fondly Tulipe’s ravioli of duck, ham and escargots and his elegant appetizer of pigs’ feet and snails in lacy caul fat. But here, he hasn’t trotted out any shocking ingredients, at least not yet. Regrettably, there’s nary a pig’s foot or a snail in sight. It is all pretty mainstream, and while the menu and his presence in the kitchen are still new, the food for the most part tastes as if his heart isn’t in it. The question is, why hire a chef if you’re not going to let him do what he does best?

Some of the tastiest things on the menu are still the old Market Street classics. The oysters, freshly shucked at the bar, are glorious, especially the belon and tiny Olympia. The chili, tender chopped sirloin in a dusky, complex chile sauce, is a sure-fire pleaser, accompanied by great corn muffins and all the fixings. And a thick, upended slice of fine-textured meatloaf looks like a ‘40s radio come to the table, served with fluffy mashed potatoes and a four-inch-tall pile of garlic-scented spinach. Another classic, the grilled chicken with a spunky tomatillo sauce and superlative fries, hasn’t suffered either.

Curious about what Gibert is up to these days, I naturally gravitated to the specials. Mesmerized by the swirling designs of the waiter’s vintage tie, I struggled to grasp the annoying flood of details, only to be offered a printed list of specials after the recitation was over. One night there was a delicate, lovely asparagus soup. But on another, the artichoke-and-barley soup was so thick it resembled baby food. I love the punch of Roquefort in his fragile pear-and-Roquefort tart. The pates, however, are uncharacteristically bland. The duck “gateau” and foie gras arrived icy cold, a dull brown mosaic without much flavor. A venison pate, a special, and equally pallid in taste, was strangely accompanied by an acidic relish of sour cream dotted with red currants. And the chilled leek-and-asparagus casserole turned out to be a sort of tasteless potato loaf studded with asparagus and wrapped in leek (although prepared with reduced calories, fat, cholesterol and sodium).

Gibert sometimes offers mixed seafood--shrimp, scallops, fish---cooked in parchment paper with slivers of vegetables and flageolet beans. It was delicious one night, dispirited and dried up another. The grilled filet mignon in a well-balanced Roquefort-walnut sauce was first rate. As were the venison medallions with celery-root puree. But the fine flavor of the grilled Tasmanian salmon was drowned out by an overly strong Dijon mustard sauce. The kitchen can’t quite seem to get the pitch right--too little flavor or punch-’em-out sauces.

Come dessert time, think ahead (seven minutes ahead) and order the warm apple galette , puff pastry embedded with finely sliced tart apples served with a ball of vanilla ice cream. Also quite good is the Lenotre chocolate cake, with stylish chocolate stripes outside and layers of soft-as-down chocolate cake and mousse inside. But the thick wedge of special pecan pie and the lemon meringue tart with a fork-resistant crust are a bit pedestrian. Here, at least, the French side of the menu wins out.

Walking out, I commented to the woman behind the reserva

tion desk that the menu looked a little different from the last time I was there. “Why?” she snapped defensively. “Didn’t you like it?”

It’s never easy making this kind of transition, when the new chef has to fit his dishes in with old faithfuls, however good. 72 Market St. is halfway there; let’s hope Gibert takes the menu in a bolder direction.

72 Market St. Oyster Bar & Grill, 72 Market St . , Venice; (310) 392-8720. Open nightly for dinner, Monday through Friday for lunch; Full bar. Valet parking. All major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $49-$89.