Safe Harbor in Los Angeles

Behind the neon facade of Sea Harbour Seafood Restaurant in Rosemead, I circle the parking lot, trolling for a parking space until, finally, six people pile into a gleaming luxury SUV. I grab their spot. Just a typical evening at this Hong Kong-style seafood restaurant--so new that beribboned potted plants given to the owners by well-wishers are still lined up out front, next to a pair of 4-foot-high plaster chickens on either side of the entrance. Dozens of would-be diners crowd outside, waiting for a table, with more inside pressed around the host’s podium.

A brightly lit, highly air-conditioned space filled with large round tables, Sea Harbour has elaborate swagged curtains at the windows, a couple of private rooms and the usual wall of aquariums backed in the blue of a tropical paradise. There giant geoduck clams stretch their long necks. Gray-blue prawns frolic in one tank, while in another red rock cod doze in a heap. There are albino crabs and giant lobsters, too.

An impressively large color photo at the end of the dining room depicts a chef in his whites and toque, wearing a heavy gold medallion around his neck. It turns out Sea Harbour Seafood is the first American venture from a chain that has more than 30 restaurants in China and one in Vancouver, according to the gray-suited manager. “You mean this is the equivalent of McDonald’s?” asks one of my guests, wonderingly, taking in the fish tanks.

Reading through Sea Harbour’s menu, my guests point out things they’ve never seen before, such as goose web. What’s that? I splay my fingers and point to the spaces between them. They’re not interested. In addition, there are dishes made with pig stomach, fish head and, of course, sea cucumber--a soft-bodied relative of the starfish prized for its gelatinous texture. Dishes that need to be ordered in advance are marked with a tiny cell phone symbol. This Chinese chain is very with it.

The menu also proposes some unusual, less exotic items everyone can appreciate. Egg yolk meat patty is something like a moist, loose meatloaf with a glaze of bright yellow egg yolk. Another dish offers a platter of Chinese greens strewn with tiny bits of pork belly and starchy, slightly salty preserved taro root. Instead of the usual hot and sour soup, Sea Harbour’s kitchen makes a splendid seafood version. Streaked with crimson chile oil, the thickened broth is lashed with vinegar and brims with calamari, shrimp, flaps of wood ear fungus, slivered shiitake mushrooms and squares of tofu. It also holds shreds of egg a la egg drop soup.

Another of my guests insists that the best way to order is to stroll around the room and look at what people are eating. After a waitress rushes by to deliver a tempting-looking platter to another table, my guest stops her on her way back to ask, “What’s that?” “Shrimp” is the succinct reply. I somehow don’t think my friend’s tactic is going to work here. The waiters’ command of English is often shaky. A few managers, though, are prepared to help non-Chinese speakers with the menu.

Fortunately I have a list of recommended dishes from Chinese friends who follow all the restaurant openings in the San Gabriel Valley. I’d dutifully called the day before for those dishes that need to be ordered ahead, but it’s difficult communicating because the noise level in the restaurant is so high. I managed to convey that we wanted to order the salt-baked chicken and fish maw stew with Yunnan ham. And as soon as we arrived that night, I reserved a couple of pigeons. (On another occasion, we were out of luck, so it’s probably a good idea to order pigeon ahead, too.)

I’d also reserved enough live prawns for a party of six. What else? Dungeness crab was already gone that night, and the suggested substitution, crystal crab, weighed four pounds, and, at $26 a pound, we passed, ordering a red rock cod steamed with ginger and scallions instead. We’re busy talking when the waiter reappears with a plastic tub filled with wriggling prawns and a bug-eyed red rock cod for our approval. The fish seems awfully still. “Is he alive?” I ask. The waiter gives the bright red fish a gentle prod and it leaps a foot in the air. Definitely.

Live prawns are a treat. Steamed just to the point where they lose their transparency, they come with heads on and packed with skeins of salt-and-pepper-colored roe. You can also have them pan- fried with hot red pepper. Either way, they’re wonderfully messy to eat--and delicious. The Dungeness crab, pan-fried Hong Kong style with chile, is worth considering, too.

For some bizarre reason, the management is intent on providing guests with flimsy paper napkins instead of cloth. If you order the “deep-fried tender pigeon” (and you definitely should), they’ll provide a finger bowl. The only way to eat the dark-skinned pigeon, which is roughly chopped into smaller pieces and presented with the head on a platter, is to just pick it up.

While that salt-baked chicken won’t win any beauty prizes, its firm flesh is moist and succulent. Fish maw stew ($34 for the small size) captivates the entire table. Ladled from a lidded casserole, the heady broth is rich enough to cure any ill. In it are the occasional nugget of fish, silky shiitake mushroom cap or swatch of green. Fish maw refers to the dried air bladder of a fish, used to thicken the soup. Part two of the stew is a platter of the boiled chicken used to make the broth.

The menu is relatively easy to negotiate. There are actually two: the regular 12-page menu that, while extensive, is not the usual daunting compendium of hundreds of dishes, and a smaller, four-page list of house specialties, which includes dishes made with rock cod, geoduck and crab.

The kitchen also turns out superior fried rice, clean and fresh, laced with shredded dried scallops and fluffy egg whites. Don’t miss the bamboo pith with mustard greens, the brilliant leaves topped with what looks like clear loofah sponges (that’s the pith), which soak up every bit of flavor.

I usually pass on desserts at Chinese restaurants, but Sea Harbour Seafood’s fried dumplings flavored with bitter gourd and stuffed with a sweet black sesame paste are sensational.

To anyone used to L.A.’s shutting up tight after 9 on a weeknight, it seems unbelievable that people are still streaming into Sea Harbour Seafood after 10. A cheerful clamor fills the restaurant while much of Los Angeles is already fast asleep. As we prepare to leave, something catches my eye. It’s a net dipping into one of the tanks like the hand of God.

Sea Harbour Seafood

3939 N. Rosemead Blvd.

Rosemead

(626) 288-3939

Cuisine: Chinese

Rating: **

AMBIENCE: Large, bright Hong Kong-style seafood restaurant with fish tanks lining one wall.

SERVICE: Pleasant, but can be slow, and staff’s English may be shaky.

BEST DISHES: Hot and sour seafood soup, steamed prawns, steamed rock cod, Dungeness crab pan-fried with chile, fish maw stew with Yunnan ham, salt-baked chicken, fried rice with dried scallops, deep-fried pigeon, bamboo piths braised with leaf mustard. Most dishes $8 to $26; live seafood based on weight and market prices. Corkage, $10.

DRINK PICK: Tsing Tao beer. FACTS: Dim sum and dinner daily. Lot parking