New Chef, New Look, New Raison d’Etre

When I heard recently that pastis has another new chef, at least its third in three years, I decided to give the Beverly Boulevard French bistro yet another try. I’ve always appreciated Pastis’ relaxed ambience, a world away from frenetic Mimosa a few blocks down the street, but the cooking, while pleasant, has never enticed me back more than a couple of times.

This visit, the restaurant looks much more inviting than I remember. There’s a newly expanded sidewalk terrace with tables set under a broad yellow awning and shielded from the street with pots of bamboo and canvas screens. There are even a few olive trees up on the roof next to the charmingly painted sign. Ornate Moroccan lanterns add a note of exoticism. And on a warm summer evening, the tall windows in front are flung open to the breeze, lightly scented from the gardenias and other flowers spilling from the window boxes below.

Inside, ochre-stained walls are the backdrop for exuberantly colored vintage travel posters of the south of France, where the skies are forever blue and umbrella pines lean over an azure sea. Antique armoires and an old wooden farm table give the small restaurant a homey look. The effect is a provincial French restaurant in Californie.

Sitting outside on wood-slatted garden chairs, at a table covered in white butcher paper, we notice some of the waiters from Les Deux Cafes at one table, a French couple at another and, in the corner, a willowy model making calls, very softly, on the cell phone she pulls from her Gucci bag. Our waiter, decked out in a soccer shirt (the French team had just made it to the World Cup semifinals), points out the two specials that night. And then, unable to resist, he elaborates with such enthusiasm that I have to order both. In the past, the staff always seemed half-asleep. Now it’s as if they are new converts to French cooking. When the first courses arrive, I begin to understand why.

The food is noticeably better, delicious actually. A salad of magenta pickled beets layered with goat cheese is stacked tall and paired with a nicely dressed frisee salad. But it’s the mussels that excite me: a heaping bowl of small, plump, tender morsels in the shell, steamed in white wine and minced shallots, the mussel juices enriched with a little butter. What a feast! And when we’ve teased every mollusk from its shell, we soak our bread in that irresistible broth.

A double pork chop, four fingers high, is glazed with lavender honey and grilled. It tastes of salt and honey but also of smoke and char. Perfectly cooked, it is very moist, the palest pink at its center. My filet of striped bass is beautifully crisped on the surface, barely cooked beneath, the way the best chefs do it. And it actually tastes like striped bass, which is something to be celebrated. Set down in a puddle of lentils in a foamy curry sauce, it looks like a fish washed up on a beach.

The new recruit in the kitchen is Andrew Degroot, and it’s clear that he’s had some serious training. In fact, much of it has been French, including a stint with Jean-Louis Palladin at the now-closed Jean-Louis at the Watergate in Washington, D.C. Most recently, Degroot, who is only 29, worked with Gunter Seeger at Seeger’s in Atlanta. This is his first time heading up a kitchen, and so far, he’s doing just fine, though I suspect he could use more help if Pastis gets busier.

When I return two more times, I notice how beautiful the plates look. Tuna tartare perfumed with sesame oil sits on ribbons of vinegar-pickled cucumbers and comes with a rosette of crunchy pickled daikon surrounded by dribbles of bright green basil oil. A special of Arctic char has the fish skin pulled back neatly like a hotel bed’s coverlet to reveal the pale pink flesh. A crisp triangle of phyllo glazed with honey leans against it. Frog legs are arranged in a circle like a wagon train fending off an attack, hiding out under a canopy of arugula leaves. A spunky gazpacho with a peppery bite is garnished with a dab of minced vegetable “tartare.� And another special, John Dory, sits on a lovely “tart� of eggplant, zucchini and yellow squash in an ochre puree of sun-dried tomatoes with a bright acidic snap.

Happily, these dishes taste just as good as they look. Even the mushroom ravioli, homely rounds of supple dough with a duxelles filling, turn out to taste deeply, wonderfully of dusky mushrooms, their flavor echoed by the rich, creamy mushroom sauce. The navarin, which at first appears to be just another brown stew, on closer examination reveals diced celery and carrot in its nuanced sauce. It’s an altogether satisfying version, though the lamb could have been cooked just a bit longer.

Degroot, however, does make a few missteps. The bouillabaisse, for example, is very sad. It’s not so much the quality of the fish but the murky brown broth, which tastes unaccountably flat. Making anything that resembles a true bouillabaisse with the fish available in California is nearly impossible because the fish here don’t have the requisite depth of flavor. If the chef can’t come closer than this, perhaps he shouldn’t try. Unfortunately, the one dish that features the restaurant’s namesake anise liqueur isn’t thrilling either: It’s fat, sweet shrimp tossed in a heavy creamy sauce with very thick, very chewy handmade noodles.

For dessert, there’s a proper chocolate pot de creme. Velvety and extremely rich, it’s the ultimate chocolate pudding in the French style. I also like the frozen nougat based on the stiff bar of honey-sweetened meringue laced with nuts that’s a favorite all over Provence. Degroot serves it in three scoops surrounded by a crimson lake of strawberry coulis. You can’t go wrong with the trio of sorbets--tart lemon, grapefruit and plum-colored blackberry.

To his credit, Degroot corrects mistakes as soon as he recognizes them. One night, baba au rhum is just awful, with big holes and a soft, spongy texture and no rum flavor to speak of. A few days later, it’s changed dramatically for the better--a compact sponge cake soaked in rum syrup, delicious with a dollop of barely sweetened whipped cream. During the course of the week, the lavender creme brulee improves, too. The first time I try it, the lavender gives the custard too much of an oily, perfumed taste; later, its effect is more subdued. Now Degroot just needs to get around to fixing the uninspired apple tart, and I’m sure he will.

Pastis’ owner, Arnaud Palatan, cares enough about his restaurant--and its largely French clientele--to make what was an already charming little place even more so by updating its Provencal formula to showcase the contemporary cooking of a talented young chef.

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Pastis

Cuisine: California-French. Ambience: Charming French bistro with antique armoires and a handful of tables set outside. Best Dishes: Gazpacho, mushroom ravioli, tuna tartare, steamed mussels, grilled pork chop, navarin of lamb, fish specials. Wine Picks: 1996 R. Moreux Sancerre Chavignol “Les Monts Damnees,� Loire Valley; 1995 Chapoutier Gigondas Rouge, Rhone Valley. Facts: 8114 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles; (213) 655-8822. Dinner daily. Appetizers, $7 to $11; main courses, $15 to $21. Corkage $10. Valet parking weekends only.