Morton's

Parking: Valet
People Watching Celeb-Spotting, Upscale Bistro Moderately noisy All Ages

When I recently asked two friends to join me for dinner at Mortons, they leapt at the chance, confiding that it's one of their all-time favorite restaurants. So, assuming they already knew it, I didn't mention the address when I called them with the time of our reservation.

On the appointed evening, they were 20 minutes late and counting. I chalked it up to the wicked traffic that night. Suddenly, they arrived in a rush, explaining that they'd gone to the other Morton's, that is, the Beverly Hills branch of the steakhouse chain Morton's of Chicago, which is called Arnie Morton's precisely so as not to be confused with Mortons. The latter is owned by Arnie's son Peter (of Hard Rock Cafe fame) and his twin sister, Pamela, and ever since Mortons opened two decades ago, the Melrose Avenue restaurant has been a magnet for people in the film, TV and music industries.

Actually, until 1994, Mortons occupied the space across the street, where Pagani is now. Back then it was a low-key, well-disguised address, open only for dinner and so dimly lighted that you needed a miner's headlamp to spot any of the celebrities tucked discreetly behind the potted palms. Monday nights at Mortons became an institution, the evening when the real powerbrokers networked.

After five years in its new location, Mortons has regained much of the allure it lost when Eclipse (Pagani's predecessor) enjoyed its brief heyday. Monday nights now seem as popular as ever, maybe more so, considering that the current room, with its soaring ceiling and open floor plan, is much larger than the old one. And after a shaky start, when a new chef tried to update the food with Asian touches and ill-conceived fusion dishes, the kitchen is back on track, doing what it does best: turning out straightforward American fare with California flair.

The reception at Mortons seems much warmer these days as well, surprisingly without the attitude you'd expect from the West Hollywood hot spot where Vanity Fair has held its glamorous Oscar party for the last six years. No matter who you are, the young managers and hosts at the front are welcoming. I also appreciate that tables are not deliberately overbooked and no one tries to foist off the worst table on newcomers.

When I notice that one of the generously sized booths at the far end of the room is free, the host goes back to the reservation book-a very long walk-to check if anyone has reserved it. No one has, so we happily take possession of the posh green-leather booth. Tables are spaced wide apart, making Mortons one of the few L.A. restaurants where you can have a conversation in privacy. By the same token, however, this also means it's hard to make out the famous faces across the room.

What's unusual about Mortons is that the food can please both foodies and more conservative eaters, and yet it has enough of a scene to charm out-of-town guests, too. You can't go wrong starting with the crisp, refreshing chopped vegetable salad. Crunchy with carrot and celery, along with the usual avocado, haricots verts and a little corn, it's as good a version as I've had in L.A. If you prefer your greens strewn with rosy rock shrimp and a handful of peas, choose the Mortons salad. As much as I love artichokes, I prefer the perfectly cooked chilled jumbo asparagus (with the stem ends elegantly shaved) to Mortons' waterlogged thistle.

A wonderfully messy but delicious quesadilla comes strewn with shrimp, avocado, black bean puree and a salsa that, frankly, could use more kick. One special, a perfect avocado half stuffed with those demure little rock shrimp in a light Thousand Island dressing, is a classic country club sort of dish.

When it comes time to order, my tardy friends confess that they'd accepted my invitation with such alacrity because they had the steak at Morton's on their minds. Happily, they can satisfy that craving at Mortons, too. You'd expect the dry-aged New York and the rib eye to be decent here -- and they definitely are; the surprise is the filet mignon. It's never been my favorite cut because it seems to be prized more for its tenderness than its flavor. This one, thankfully, has both texture and a gentle, beefy flavor. Sometimes there's also an excellent rib eye, or cote de boeuf, sliced off the bone, in a red wine reduction. All steaks come with good French fries, shoestring fries or mashed potatoes and something green, maybe broccoli florets or green beans. The roasted rack of lamb is nice, and you can also get French-cut pork chops with homemade applesauce and those dreamy mashed potatoes. One specialty that's been on the menu for years is Mortons' lime grilled free-range chicken.

Its marinade is somehow reminiscent of the teriyaki grilled chickens of '60s family barbecues, a familiar taste updated with lime marmalade. Crab cakes are appealingly plump ovals packed with crab meat, rolled in bread crumbs, fried to a golden brown and served with a piquant chive remoulade. Striped bass is simply grilled and drizzled with good olive oil and a squirt of lemon. I'm less fond of the Asian-inflected ahi tuna in ponzu and the Atlantic salmon in a sweet balsamic glaze, though the seafood specials are often worth trying. One night it is a wonderful piece of sauteed John Dory, crisped at the edges and marred only by too much beurre blanc.

The couple seated next to us one night hold hands throughout their meal, which is no mean feat when you think about it. It's only when dessert, a coupe of banana beignets over ice cream, is presented that they finally let go of each other and pay attention to the food. Observing this is enough to get me to order the same. Our waiter is honest enough to downplay the lemon phyllo tart and the warm cherry tart. He's right; both desserts are pedestrian. Stick with the beignets or the hot fudge sundae with lightly sweetened whipped cream, toasted almonds and a thick dark fudge that jams up when it hits the cold vanilla ice cream.

Mortons' strength is its competent American cooking. While you're not going to be surprised here, almost everything on the menu is classic and well-executed. The kitchen's strategy seems to be to focus on what it does well. And during this age of overambitious restaurant concepts, bucking the trend in this way seems downright daring.

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