We’ll always have Paris -- at L’Orangerie

Unfurling a damask linen napkin, I watch my friend Celia drink in her favorite restaurant -- the extravagant flowers, the period paintings, the warmth of the candlelight. Across the room, a young couple coo over dessert and a party of Japanese tourists consults guidebooks. The maitre d’ hovers near a table of regulars, advising on the menu. An unabashed romantic, Celia -- like many of L’Orangerie’s most faithful customers -- is in heaven even before a bite crosses her lips.

This year, the posh French restaurant celebrates its 25th birthday, a remarkable run given L.A.’s fickle restaurant scene. It has a new chef, too, 33-year-old Christophe Eme. In a quarter of a century, L’Orangerie has been through ups and downs, but its classic setting is so perfectly rendered, it seduces visitors again and again. There’s nothing else like it in Los Angeles -- pure French, pure romance.

Hidden behind a tall hedge, the restaurant doesn’t exactly advertise its presence. Nevertheless, on weekends, a parade of Rolls-Royces, Bentleys and other luxury driving machines purrs up the driveway. On the terrace in front, orange trees covered in blossoms greet guests with their intoxicatingly sweet perfume. The walled terrace is one of the prettiest in town but is used only as a transition from the street. Seen from the windows, dozens of wineglasses shimmer at the end of the bar, and the place is ablaze with candles.

On a recent evening, we found the garden room next to the formal dining room set up for a large birthday party, with a long table decorated with pots of roses and glass hurricane lanterns.

That night, it was warm enough to open the glass roof to the sky. It was a magical scene, the women in party dresses, the men in suits and ties, a rare sight indeed. Even L’Orangerie, virtually the last holdout to California casual in Los Angeles, no longer requires ties, but there they were. This is the one restaurant where it’s inconceivable to ever be overdressed.

If you’re ever in the mood to be pampered, L’Orangerie is the place when everything works. And while the welcome and service are decidedly old-fashioned in their cool formality, Gerard and Virginie Ferry -- the owners -- make every attempt to be au courant with whatever’s going on in the Paris cooking scene. Make no mistake: L’Orangerie is a French restaurant that has no intention of going native.

Eme is the latest in a long line of young, ambitious French imports to man the stoves. His resume includes stints at Taillevent in Paris and at the French restaurant in the Oriental Bangkok hotel in Thailand. One night he starts things off with a sizzle when he sends out a single plump scallop crowned with a sesame tuile on a beautiful polished scallop shell. A few dark, sticky drops of aged aceto balsamico complete the ensemble. Another night, almost every dish arrives in pairs. Risotto comes as a scallop stuffed with a sliver of black truffle nested in a spoonful of risotto, followed by a cast-iron casserole of more risotto topped with a wreath of black truffle slices. The flavor is wonderful, but the rice is slightly gummy. Two halves of a spiny purple-black sea urchin arrive side by side, topped with a Parmesan tuile, the sea urchin roe buried within a distinctive cold fennel cream.

The restaurant’s signature shirred eggs served in the shell with a dollop of sevruga caviar is as divine as ever, an incredibly festive way to start off a meal here. Terrine de foie gras is another indulgence. Eme prepares his on the very rare side of the spectrum, which gives it an ineffably silky texture, but I’m not so sure it’s such a good idea. It tastes almost raw. I like the garnish of little piles of fleur de sel and cracked peppercorns, but the piped stripe of stiff chutney seems an affectation, more decor than anything you could actually enjoy with the foie gras.

When it comes to escargots, the chef turns the cliche on its head with tender little snails presented in a green parsley foam topped with a lacy Parmesan cracker. Pass up the obligatory ahi tuna tartare in favor of his exciting hamachi sashimi, a plush carpet of finely sliced yellowtail marinated in blood orange juice and strewn with tiny blossoms and herbs. Another delicious appetizer is his zucchini flower plumped out with minced spring vegetables and served with greens and petite vegetables napped in olive oil from the Ferrys’ estate near Grasse, France. Crispy langoustine, however, comes off as overwrought, a mise-en-scene with so many elements -- confit of tomato, ginger, aged Sherry vinegar -- it loses focus.

The standout on the menu is the cocotte of Maine lobster in an intense stock made with lots of lobster shells. The lobster is cooked perfectly and served in the broth with a few dainty ravioli stuffed with zucchini, along with calamari, fava beans and fennel. I remember every bite of that lobster. The most expensive entree on the menu is wild turbot from Brittany roasted under a salt crust and served with a baby artichoke ragout. It’s a magnificent piece of fish, but for $58, you couldn’t be faulted for expecting something more earth-shattering.

Roasted squab breast is the perfect red-wine dish on the menu. Rare and gamy, the thick slices are set on a raft of macaroni gratin with some tomato confit and dabs of black olive paste. I had a fine duck breast one night too. And once, prime rib for two that arrived with a pitcher of pommes souffles so light they threatened to float right off the plate. Rack of lamb, though, is disappointing, presented on undercooked white beans. And the Colorado lamb is neither tender nor very flavorful. On another occasion, a $39 plate of veal kidneys is overcooked. At these prices, it shouldn’t happen.

The restaurant’s weakest points are the service and the wine list. Service is erratic: sometimes thoroughly professional, other times stumbling.

Sommeliers regularly appear with impressive credentials, but no one ever seems to stay for long. Could the tired, unwieldy wine list with excessively high markups have anything to do with it? I suspect it’s a frustrating position for a sommelier.

Fortunately, the restaurant now has a corkage policy of $25 per bottle, but only if the same wine -- of any vintage -- is not on its list.

For dessert, go with the apple tarte “a la minute.” Baked to order, it’s a precision swirl of thinly sliced apples on a thin buttery crust. It comes with oval scoops of vanilla ice cream and, if you like, softly whipped cream served from a tall silver container. The classic chocolate souffle sets a high standard too. Chocolate banana tart is dismal, but a rhubarb and raspberry napoleon is light and lovely. The petits fours -- miniature lemon tarts, madeleines, little almond cakes arranged in a long skinny porcelain bowl -- don’t cut as graceful a figure. A pair of dark chocolate truffles rolled in cocoa make a much better ending.

We leave with a memory of orange blossoms and Champagne, France and conversation. The food, however delicious, is somehow more backdrop than center stage, the restaurant more a star than the chef. After 25 years, I guess that’s about right.

*

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L’Orangerie

Rating: ** 1/2

Location: 903 N. La Cienega Blvd., Los Angeles, (310) 652-9770.

Ambience: Extravagantly romantic with towering flower arrangements, soft candlelight and trellised walls. You can sit either in the main dining room or in the separate garden room with retractable roof. In the bar, a pianist churns out standards.

Service: Mostly correct and pampering, with occasional lapses.

Price: Appetizers, $18 to $110; main courses, $29 to $58; desserts, $10 to $14; menu royale, $135 per person.

Best dishes: Egg in the shell with caviar, zucchini flower stuffed with spring vegetables, Maine lobster en cocotte, wild turbot, roast pigeon, apple tart “a la minute,” chocolate souffle.

Wine list: Extensive, but stolid, and exceedingly expensive.Corkage, $25.

Best table: The round one in the back corner.

Details: Open for dinner Tuesday through Sunday, 6 to 11 p.m. Closed Monday. Valet parking, $4.50.

Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. ****: Outstanding on every level. ***: Excellent. **: Very good. *: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.