Where fairy tales meet reality

I’M so intent on fending off our waiter’s water advances at the Republic, the new restaurant on La Cienega, I almost miss her. Two previous visits to the West Hollywood restaurant and lounge have yielded zero sightings of the elusive wine fairy. Now one of my dining companions is nudging me. Yes, there.

There she is in a black form-fitting cat suit, flying up the side of a 20-foot-tall glass tower of wine -- up, up, up to grasp her prey, a bottle near the very top. Cradling it in a pouch attached to the harness, she then rappels down slowly, kicking up her stiletto boots for effect, like some new-age Mary Martin done up as a dominatrix.

Though we are just four at the table that night, when we order bottled water, our waiter arrives two-fisted, holding a full bottle of Voss mineral water in each hand. Good thing someone notices, and asks about it. The explanation is that one bottle wouldn’t make it all the way around the table. How much are these bottles anyway? another of my guests summons the wits to ask. $11 each. So, if my math’s correct, our table would have racked up $22 before anyone took a bite if no one had noticed the double bottles. Nice.

Republic is the latest trendy restaurant to occupy the space at the corner of La Cienega Boulevard and Melrose Place. I can remember at least three of the previous incarnations, and in fact owner Mikayel Israyelyan was also the owner of the previous establishment, which was called Bliss. This time he’s had the good sense to bring in a designer with a coherent vision for the sprawling bunker-like building. Now, when you drive up, you’ll see (after noting the $7 valet parking fee) a sleek wall of glass bricks lightening the formerly grim exterior.

At the top of the stairs, the doorman waits patiently as guests stroll past two planters sprouting artichoke plants and a water feature that looks like small rain squall falling onto dark AstroTurf. The sculptural, almost barbaric artichoke plants were kind of wonderful the first time, but by this visit, they’re looking decidedly distressed. The artichokes have been lopped, or chewed off; it happens in the city. But why hasn’t someone replaced them instead of leaving these sorry looking plants right up front?

Inside, we sink into the sleek white leather sofas in the bar, where the shaker action is nonstop. This end of La Cienega has become so thick with clubby spots, social butterflies in the know park once and then hop from bar to bar and restaurant to restaurant. Koi, Bridge, the Spanish Kitchen and the Belmont are all within a block of each other.

A word of advice: Come dressed up. Republic has quite the glamorous look. Designer Peg O’Brien has done wonders with the awkward space, turning it into a supper club on a grand scale. One long wall is covered with a subtly shimmering gold mosaic and lined with high-backed taupe banquettes. A fireplace in the middle of the same wall is sheathed from floor to ceiling in metal mesh like a fencer’s mask.

On either side is a convex channel with water running down its corrugated sides. And a magnificent antler chandelier hangs from the lofty ceiling surrounded by wonderfully goofy-elegant lampshades made out of miles of silky white fringe. But the real focal point of the room is that handsome wine tower.

Southern belle

ALTHOUGH the decor’s sophisticated and adventurous, Republic plays it safe with the menu. It’s basically a steak or chophouse with Southern embellishments, in the vein of recent arrivals such as Memphis and Citizen Smith. Executive chef Gabriel Morales was opening chef at Boa (when it was still called Balboa), in the Grafton Hotel on Sunset, which was one of the first steakhouses pitched to a new generation. He later went on to cook at the Polo Lounge.

Shortly after you’re seated in the spacious dining room, two stainless steel, cone-shaped baskets (lined with paper so you can’t see what’s inside) are brought to the table. I gingerly stick in my hand and pull out a piece of rich, sticky cornbread. It’s sweet as cake, something you have to be deeply Southern, I’m guessing, to appreciate.

The other holds the real prize: biscuits. Flaky and buttery, still warm from the oven, they’re laced with black pepper. And they’re fantastic. So good, we’re almost fighting over them, until we think to ask for another round.

On an earlier visit, at this stage, after the water hustle and biscuits and cornbread, it was hard to guess which way the experience would go: up or down. But when the first courses were delivered I got a glimmering, and every subsequent visit has followed the same pattern. The menu’s ambitions outstrip the kitchen’s grasp. That goes for straightforward dishes and for the more creative ones too. The ideas seem plucked out of the air without any reference to what makes culinary sense.

A server sets down a small shot glass in front of each of us, murmuring something I can’t quite catch that sounds like “rhubarb, sugar, strawberry.” That can’t be, can it? It can. It’s a sugary shake that does the exact opposite of what an amuse is supposed to do. It signals to the taste buds to wrap it up, we’re coming to the end of the meal. How odd, and so not delicious. On to the first courses.

Of course, any foodie worth their fleur de sel would zero in on the pork “lollipops.” And so we do. They’re basically shaggy nuggets of overcooked barbecued pork on a stick. Wouldn’t you expect something with a little more panache given the tease of the name? Surf n’ turf tartare has a nice ring to it, for about a minute. Once you taste beef tartare and tuna tartare together, you realize this is one bad idea. There’s something about the textures side by side that’s unappetizing.

Someone points out the rosti on the first courses list. We have to have that too, craving the sublime hash browns that are something of a Swiss obsession. What arrives is a plate of rolled up smoked salmon, each packet about the size of a stuffed grape leaf. Where’s the rosti? Is it underneath? No. It turns out to be a tiny piece of fried potato tucked at the heart of each roll. The chef obviously was trying to sex up the description with the word rosti. And the smoked salmon itself doesn’t set off any fireworks. Mini Monte Cristos are a snooze too, pale white-bread sandwiches with ham, Gruyere and strawberry jam, like something you’d get at a tea in some Godforsaken corner of the world.

Salads are better choices. There’s a perfectly respectable iceberg lettuce wedge with a lush Maytag blue cheese dressing. Grilled shrimp salad with a pile of grapefruit wedges and chopped grayish green Lucques olives is acceptable too. But if you’re offered anything more creative, watch out.

One night I order the special salad, described as strawberry and figs with seared diver scallops in a doughnut-peach vinaigrette. Sounds baroque, but I’m willing to give it a try. I get a fluffy little bouquet of mache with mushy strawberries and sliced figs underneath. I find a couple of lovely perfumed wild strawberries in there. But the seared scallops on top of roasted pureed peaches is quite awful together. These peaches are highly perfumed, and the combination of the thick peach sauce against the seared scallops creates a no-fly zone. Does every dish have to try to be dessert?

Truffle oil pirouettes through dishes to dismal effect. I’m sorry, but it’s still a lazy trick.

Steak veteran

Iremember being impressed with Morales’ cooking at Boa, so I think the steaks will be first rate. Wrong. One night, a cowboy rib-eye ordered medium rare first arrives bloody, cold at the center. It goes back to the kitchen, is brought out again and it’s still too rare. The same steak comes back a second time, this time overshooting the mark to medium. But no matter how it’s cooked, the quality doesn’t seem to be there. Another night, a New York strip, ordered medium rare, arrives more like medium, again nothing that would set your carnivore’s heart racing.

But the kitchen does do a good job with the veal porterhouse and Colorado lamb rack, both cooked, like the steaks, on the mesquite grill. Do not under any circumstances order the “backyard barbecue tasting of pork”. This is one sorry plate of dried out pulled pork, pork loin and pork belly with practically no flavor.

Even dishes that sound as if they can’t go wrong are disappointing. Take the New England lobster bake, which is based on market price, ($55 last week). The lobster is tough. It’s not a good thing when you’d rather eat the side dishes of bland corn and clam chowder. Cioppino is a murky mix of clams, mussels and shrimp that bears little resemblance to the vibrant Italian-American fish stew.

The best thing I had in three meals at Republic was the casserole of smoked mac n’ cheese. Made with snail-shaped pasta cooked beautifully al dente and cloaked in just the right amount of cheese, it’s delicious.

The wine list is predominantly California wines with some token overpriced French and Italian bottles. Of the 14 Champagnes, only two are under $100, which I guess helps to pay for the wine fairy. While she’s flying around up at the top of the tower where the high-priced bottles are placed, she can, if you like, pick up a bottle of Mouton Rothschild or Harlan Cabernet for $1,400. However, Republic does have an enlightened corkage policy. If you buy one bottle of wine (any wine), the $18 corkage is waived.

Desserts don’t save the evening. If you crave a sweet, skip the dull strawberry shortcake and the apple pot pie in favor of the bourbon-glazed doughnuts. They’ve got that Southern thing going for them.

*

Republic

Rating: Half a star

Location: 650 N. La Cienega Blvd. (at Melrose Place), West Hollywood; (310) 360-7070; www.therepublicla.com.

Ambience: Glamorous restaurant and lounge with soaring ceilings and an antler chandelier, fireplace and glass wine tower with “wine fairies” in climbing harnesses fetching bottles. The menu offers chophouse fare with contemporary California first courses and some Southern touches.

Service: Varies from pushy to gracious.

Price: Appetizers, $12 to $21; salads, $12 to $16; main courses, $23 to $42; sides, $7; desserts, $10 to $14.

Best dishes: Biscuits, grilled shrimp salad, iceberg wedge, veal porterhouse, Colorado lamb rack, smoked cheddar mac n’ cheese, corn succotash, bourbon-glazed doughnuts.

Wine list: Mostly California with some French and Italian bottles at high markups. Corkage, $18 or buy a bottle, get corkage free.

Best table: One along the banquette.

Special features: Private rooms, late-night dining in the upstairs lounge.

Details: Open Sunday through Thursday from 6 to 11 p.m., Friday and Saturday from 6 p.m. to midnight. Full bar. Valet parking, $7.

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.