A Realistic Visit to Romania

More and more around Southern California you can find places to experience the hearty cuisines of Eastern Europe, but until now you had to go outside Orange County. But O.C. at last has one of its own--and it’s worth a look.

Restaurant Bucharest is a high-ceilinged, attractive dinner house full of vinyl booths and potted plants, with an enormous bar area to one side. At one time this was a popular seafood place called Jimmy’s. Before its current incarnation, it was an Italian restaurant.

Seven years after the euphoria of liberation, the mood in the Romanian community is bittersweet. Most Romanians I meet tell me that conditions haven’t changed much back in the old country and that the regime that replaced despot Ceausescu isn’t that much better than what they had before.

Perhaps that explains why things haven’t begun to swing at Restaurant Bucharest. It’s about to get its liquor license and has a dance band on weekends, but so far the emigre customers appear bearish on the idea of celebrating. Most just sit quietly nibbling on their ancestral specialties.

Romanian cuisine, infused with Turkish, Russian and Viennese influences, can be hearty or delicate. Linguistically the Romanians are Latins, but their cuisine is emphatically Balkan (or “Balcanic,” as this menu spells it). It revolves around a golden yellow corn meal porridge called mamaliga, not terribly different from the polenta of northern Italy--or the grits of the American South.

Service at Bucharest can be perfunctory in the extreme. Dining here is like dining in many corners of the old Soviet bloc, where the concept of attentive service all but disappeared during the Communist years and has yet to return. Asked for water, our waiter brought a plastic pitcher and plunked it down on the edge of the table, allowing us the privilege of pouring it ourselves. Later we needed extra silver. With an annoyed shrug, he brought us a plateful of knives and forks.

At least some of the cooking makes up for these service lapses.

Icre is the Romanian word for caviar, in this case a creamy dip made from carp roe. You get two mounds as big as scoops of ice cream, and they’re delicious on the restaurant’s country-style white bread.

Eggplant salad is another name for vinete, a garlicky eggplant spread of a coarser texture than the familiar Middle Eastern eggplant dips. If you’re lucky, there might be fasole, a wonderful white bean broth made with dill, yellow peppers and tomatoes. On my last visit, I contented myself with a rich, thick lentil soup, satisfying to the bottom of the bowl.

Mamaliga comes with many entrees, but the best way to eat it is as an appetizer, mamaliga cu brinza, topped with grated feta cheese and thick sour cream. It’s much lighter than it sounds. On the other hand, you will need a couple of friends to help you if you order the huge hot appetizer combination called the Bucharest Feast. It’s kashkaval croquettes (soft, pungent Romanian cheese fried in a schnitzel-style breading), sauteed chicken livers, stewed mushrooms and hunks of a spicy sausage called cabanos, which tastes rather like a supermarket brand of Cajun sausage.

The entrees are markedly inconsistent. I’d recommend sarmale, grape leaves with a juicy stuffing of ground pork and liver. It’s served with mamaliga drenched in a spicy tomato sauce. Definitely pass on the mititei, like skinless lamb sausages grilled on a brazier. When mititei are at their best, they are tender and adroitly spiced. These are rubbery and have an unpleasant overdose of cumin.

Most of the entrees are grilled and presented plainly with a choice of French fries or rice. (Have the rice, a delicious, homemade pilaf. The fries taste as if they come from the freezer.) The grilled pork and lamb chops are good, and the tender, nicely charbroiled filet mignon has nothing to apologize for.

From the frying pan come a reasonably light, not too greasy pork schnitzel and the distinctively Romanian mishmash called dobrogeana: fried beef and pork with tomato sauce, garlic, feta cheese, eggs and corn meal. Try that one at your peril.

The service lapses sometimes extend to the kitchen. I asked that a piece of grilled salmon not be overcooked, and it was anyway--as dried-out a piece of fish as I’ve seen in a long time.

Then there was the matter of the dessert crepes. Romanians eat their crepes wrapped around a sour cherry jam called clatite, along with cups of muddy Turkish-style coffee. What we got was reheated American coffee and an excuse, plus a cold, day-old crepe that the kitchen hadn’t even bothered to reheat.

Come on, guys, this is the ‘90s. When Restaurant Bucharest puts more heart into what it is doing, it will have the potential to become an O.C. hot spot. But until then, think of a visit to this restaurant as a visit to Romania itself, with all of the ups and downs included.

Restaurant Bucharest is moderately priced. Cold appetizers are $3.25 to $5.95. Hot appetizers are $5.95 to $7.95. Main courses are $7.85 to $11.85.

* RESTAURANT BUDAPEST

* 2421 N. Grand Ave., Santa Ana.

* (714) 541-0100.

* Open 11:30 a.m.-midnight Tuesday-Sunday.

* MasterCard and Visa accepted.