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High Goals Set the Tone at the Myth

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SPECIAL TO THE TIMES

Il Mito in Studio City is a stylish, noisy, hopping little cafe, done in dark wood and deep, cozy tones of carmine, ochre, green. Inches from the CBS lot, Il Mito hasn’t had many dull moments since opening its doors and now, as happens with trendy spots, it has reproduced. First, it was Il Mito South, a trattoria adjacent to the restaurant; next, the Myth by Il Mito, in the former La Veranda space on Beverly Drive in Beverly Hills.

The Myth. Why do I feel a twinge of self-consciousness when I tell friends, “We’re going to a restaurant called the Myth”? Certainly, in terms of naming a restaurant or anything else, this title smacks, intentionally or not, of overweening confidence. It’s also a set-up. As one friend retorted, “And just how mythic is the Myth?”

Il Mito’s same rich colors are at work at the Myth, only the room is more elegant, dramatic and considerably quieter. The mood is relaxed, the clientele well-dressed. A small, centrally placed painting alludes to the name: a portrait of a painfully fair-skinned faun (Bacchus?), fig leaf discreetly in place.

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The Myth’s staff is calm and remarkably affable; because of them, my visits there were completely pleasant and a lot of fun.

The food is not quite as easy to characterize. Although there is some culinary overlap with Il Mito--an excellent carpaccio with horseradish, for example--the Myth has its own menu. So far, the Myth’s cooking is a mixed bag, not nearly as consistently bright and confident as Il Mito’s. The Myth’s food seems more ambitious, dressed up, straining for effect. Too many dishes seem muddled, starting with the dip served with the bread: On one small plate, oil, tomato sauce, olive tapenade and chopped garlic have been spooned atop one another to form a lopsided target. Scooping up all these ingredients on a piece of bread reminds me of trying to make pizza out of whatever’s hiding in the refrigerator door.

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Sometimes, the mix is good: Fresh mozzarella slices sit on delicious peperonata, a cold, dense, long-steeped ratatouille-like stew of roasted eggplant, peppers and onions. A salad of cannellini beans, roasted tomatoes and red onions is refreshing and perfect. I was skeptical about a Caesar salad with radicchio and chewy, roasted beet chips but the dish won me over.

Sometimes, the kitchen goes too far. Pastry tubes packed with finely minced wild mushrooms are a little musty--too many dried herbs?--and should not, at any rate, be sitting in a pool of sweet, fruit-sweetened sauce. The fried calamari is fine as is its spicy marinara dip but what is that snarl of grilled onions doing on the same plate?

A classic angel hair pasta with tomatoes, basil and garlic is irreproachable, as is a wild mushroom risotto. Other pastas suffer from too many flourishes. Tagliolini is topped with a paste of mashed beans studded with tiny, rubbery scallops and overcooked asparagus.

Some but not all entrees manifest the same ambitious effect-seeking. Half a roasted free-range chicken, moist, well-seasoned, fragrant with wine, may well be the best item on the menu. I also loved the pounded pork scallopini with its crisped edges and lemony caper and olive sauce. Braised chicken livers with grilled onions are not as dreamy as they could be if the onions were more intensely caramelized. Individual flying saucer-shaped portions of vegetable and turkey “meatloaf” taste strongly of dried herbs and sit in a sweet plum sauce--the person who wanted this dish, and ordered it, loved it.

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The dessert selection is small and sweet. Cool, rich cream custard comes striped with fruit purees, strawberry and slightly, cleverly salty orange--who remembers that a bit of salt can liven up a dessert (if you disagree, try a salt-free chocolate chip cookie sometime). This judicious saltiness works again in the fruit tart, where slightly salted marinated orange peels curl, live wires of flavor, among fresh berries.

It’s not the stuff of legends yet, but with this cheerful staff and more restraint in the kitchen, there’s no telling how mythic the the Myth might turn out to be.

* The Myth, 225 S. Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills, (310) 858-4931. Open for lunch Monday through Friday. Open for dinner seven nights. Beer and wine served. Major credit cards accepted. Dinner for two, food only, $34-$70.

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