RESTAURANT REVIEW : Keeping Up With the Hip at Jones

On my first visit to Jones, I took a friend who used to frequent Ports, the bar and onetime restaurant previously at that address. My friend virtually lived at Ports, she says. In fact, when she stopped drinking, Ports closed down in a matter of weeks. She still doesn’t drink and, glancing at the Jones menu, she says it’s a good thing, too. Her drink--well martinis--costs $5.25.

Jones, like Olive, like Trinity, like Monkey Bar, is a restaurant that feels like a club. A private club. I’ve heard that people have trouble getting into Jones for dinner, but this may be illusory buzz. When I call to make a dinner reservation, the woman I speak to is friendly and crisp. “Please arrive on time,” she says. “We allow a 10-minute grace period. The table will be booked again in two hours.”

OK, fine.

We’re early--and have to wait. To the bar, then, for a drink. One friend, the former Ports regular, notes the place has been gutted and completely reconfigured, all for the better. Jones does have a great look, both the bar and the adjoining cafe or, as we came to call them, the dark room and the bright room.

The dark room has a kind of drunken Tennessee picnic motif; tablecloths are red and white checkered oil cloth, a comfy banquette has a red bandanna print; overhead, bottles and bottles of Jack Daniels stand in orderly rows behind chicken wire. While the crowd is mostly in their late 20s, early 30s, I’m told that everybody, or everybody who counts, eventually passes through here.

Rumor has it a well-known female rock star has been stretched out on the bar; writer Tobias Wolff (“This Boy’s Life,” “In Pharoah’s Army”) headed here after reading at Dutton’s. We spot Brett Easton Ellis (“American Psycho,” “Less Than Zero”). A Jones regular I know complains a “bridge and tunnel” syndrome has developed--too many trendoids from Orange County and the San Fernando Valley are showing up. In the meantime, except for one or two industry executive types, my 35-year-old friend and I are the oldest, and therefore most invisible people in the room.

Dinner in the dark room proves workable. Our waitress is charming, our booth roomy, the music eclectic and consistently good--Rolling Stones, Abba, Aerosmith, Hole, Smashing Pumpkins. The updated bar and grill fare is a kind of trendy comfort food.

I am crazy for the meaty grilled Portobello mushroom with fluffy polenta and leeks. Calamari has been fried too long; it’s crisp but a little tough. The steamed artichoke is a little sodden, as if fished from deep cold water, but a suitable vehicle for a good herbed garlic mayonnaise.

*

The chopped salad is a nice balance of diced iceberg, red bell peppers, chewy bits of cheese and salami. Mustardy, with strong hints of anchovy, the Caesar dressing is excellent, but there’s not enough of it and the salad is a bit dry, the croutons hard as blocks.

Herbs are stuffed under the skin of Jones’ moist yet slightly overcooked rotisserie chicken. Pretty lamb chops with restrained, gingery sauce are delicious--and should be at $25. A sizable slab of grilled ahi comes with fabulous, sinus-haunting wasabi mashed potatoes. I’d skip the “Veggie Palooza,” however: The porcini risotto is undercooked, chalky; the couscous is dry, and the whole heaped plate seems like a poorly planned selection from a health-food smorgy. Also, we never received the promised “variety of grilled breads.”

Those who don’t want a multi-course meal can settle for pizzas with thin, bubbly crusts and judiciously applied toppings.

Lunch in the bright room, or the cafe side of Jones, involves the same decent cooking and somewhat more erratic service. There are fewer entrees, more pizza selections--try the cheeseless “Zoe Fina,” with artichokes, pesto, Kalamata olives--and sandwiches. The hamburger, in a skin of seared Parmesan cheese, reminds us, not too unpleasantly, of deep-fried hamburgers in the Midwest. . . . The cafe, with its cheery display of groceries, wooden Venetian blinds and checkered cloths, feels small and cramped, as if built not quite to scale. I think it’s supposed to be cozy.

* Jones Hollywood Cafe, 7205 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood . (213) 850-1726. Open for lunch Monday through Friday, open for dinner seven days. Full bar. Major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $36-$84.