Restaurant rhapsody

We take you now to a fine dining establishment in the fine dining capital of the West, Los Angeles. Your server, an attractive young man who has a third call-back tomorrow for the sixth lead in a sitcom pilot starring Jon Lovitz, is reciting tonight’s specials.

It is quite a list. You have picked a well-reviewed, kind of Asian-French-fusion-peasant-cookery place. Your server, who if the Lovitz thing doesn’t work out also reps this ironical ska tribute band that plays every other Tuesday at the Mint, is saying lots of things. He is saying that “tonight we have medallions of duck breast in a port wine reduction with star anise and roasted new potatoes,” and a “baked Chilean sea bass served with a spicy Asian slaw, which consists of carrots, beet root and cucumber, marinated overnight in a conch vinaigrette.”

I have short-term memory problems, so usually in these situations I pray that I hear something appealing early on, at which point I tune out, like back in science class.

But then, the other night, I went to Gardens of Taxco, a Mexican restaurant in West Hollywood.

It was my first time, even though the restaurant’s been around for 32 years. Its calling card is the “spoken menu,” delivered by Frank Romero in a full-bodied accent that traces back to his youth in Mexico City. To hear Romero read the menu is to know that he doesn’t have an audition tomorrow for a Jon Lovitz sitcom. He can say “fresh tomatoes, fresh peppers” in a way that makes your mouth water.

Or when he describes the chicken mole en poblano, “in a very spicy sauce. Not hot. Spiiiiicey,” and also the chicken a la crema, “baked in a light cream sauce, lightly sweet, very tasty.” And here, the all-important pregnant pause, “It seems like the chicken was bohhhrnnn in the sauce.”

The night I was there I thought I was getting Frank, but turns out it was an understudy. He was very fine, but it left me wondering what had happened to the real Frank, this master of the spoken menu, this poet of the Mexican dinner verse.

The real Frank, I discovered, was at USC University Hospital recovering from triple hernia surgery.

Frank Romero received me with a smile. He was sitting on a chair in Room 742, his hospital gown open to expose a surgical scar running from his clavicle to the bottom of his stomach. He’d been cut open, he said, to remove three hernias, one the size of an orange, another a lemon. He hoped to return to work next week.

It seemed hard to believe he’d be back so soon. But then, Romero said he has also had both hips and a knee replaced, and five years ago had open heart surgery. He loves his work.

Romero is 70 years old and round, with a voice that goes hoarse but can make food sound as pleasing as a lullaby. He was born in Veracruz, Mexico, and raised in Mexico City; he moved here in 1953. Trained in Mexico as an accountant, he was a busboy at the Brown Derby in Hollywood, at the Biltmore Hotel, at Chasen’s, working his way up in the food service business.

He opened his own restaurant, the Gardens of Taxco, in 1971. He began speaking the menu a few months after opening, in part as a cost-saving measure.

We talked about his rhetorical style. Though family members help run the restaurant, Romero remains the Pavarotti of the place. As such he has struggled to find successors.

“In this job it’s important, and that’s why you do it,” he said, “to find something the person really enjoys, at least to the best of your knowledge.”

A soap opera was playing on the overhead TV. Finally I asked Romero if he would do the honors of the menu.

He cleared his throat. “Have you been before with us in the restaurant?” he said, and suddenly we were back at the darkened place, me in a booth. “As you may know, we have no written menu. Every dinner is prepared, and served, Mexico City style, as if you were visiting Mexico City and you were a guest at a fine home there. So I hope you feel that you are traveling, that you are in Mexico, in Mexico City, and our home. And I hope you enjoy.”

I said thank you.

“We have four different dinners prepared with beef, four prepared with chicken, four prepared with shrimp, two dinners prepared with fresh fish, one dinner vegetarian. So if you have any preference, please tell me, and I will describe the different dinners.”

Then he began, and it didn’t matter where we were. There was the carne asada: “This is a slice of sirloin, very lean and tender, seasoned ... grilled, served with guacamole, rice, refried beans. The beef is prepared medium-well to well done.

“The chicken a la Mexicana. Like a casserole dish. Fresh tomatoes, peppers, vegetables. The chicken Taxco, in a delicate cream of cilantro sauce. Deeeelicious. The chicken en mole poblano. In a very spicy sauce. Not hot. Spiiiiicey. The best mole in town. The most traditional. The chicken a la crema, baked in a cream sauce, lightly sweet, very tasty.”

And then, from Room 742 in the north tower at USC University Hospital, Romero said: “It seems like the chicken was bohhhrnnn in that sauce.”

Paul Brownfield can be contacted at paul.brownfield@latimes.com.