The Art of Dining

But then, the Getty tends to do that to me. For the 20 minutes you spend on the phone trying to get a reservation, to the annoying way that the paths to and around Robert Irwin’s celebrated Central Garden have been laid out (you have to walk first in zigzags, then in circles, but never in a straight line, which is how most people like to walk), it has always struck me as the most controlling of museums. But I love it after dark, when it no longer looks like a museum at all but rather like an austerely elegant factory designed to produce a more efficient class of human being. And that, in fact, turned out to be one of the most enjoyable moments of the night: taking a cigarette break on the balcony between courses. Only at night does the Getty’s full beauty and megalomania emerge.

Already hungry at 8, we spent 15 minutes before our reservation studying the menu. “Baked Rone de Nice Squash with Maryland Lump Crab and Blood Orange Gastrique” was one of the more fanciful entries, while “Butter-Poached Lobster & Corn & Asparagus Risotto” was one of the more improbable. We all found the menu slightly baffling. Who has ever eaten a “crisp” salmon? Or had a lasagna with curry sauce? Or lamb with an olive tapenade? Still, we were hungry and looked forward to the meal.

As a physical space in which to eat, the Getty’s restaurant is comfortable but can’t quite escape the more clinical side of Richard Meier’s vision. As for service, it can’t decide whether to opt for French hauteur or California friendliness. The result is wait staff who act like snobs but can’t stop smiling. â

Dinner began very nicely, with a good wine and a complimentary salmon mousse, enlivened by ginger and cracked peppercorns, that was absolutely delicious. In fact, it was one of the few dishes that could be called completely successful. Another was seared sea scallops and shrimp ravioli with chevril butter, a $14 appetizer that my wife enjoyed thoroughly. A tart of fig and goat cheese was exquisite, but too sweet to be an appetizer. The entrées were disappointing. My bouillabaisse ($28) came with a fabulous pepper crostini, but that was the only really good thing about it. My wife’s lamb loin with baby eggplant and an olive tapenade was served rare rather than medium, as she’d asked for, and the tapenade was overpowering. As for our friend’s salmon with asparagus and garlic sauce, she found it rather uninspiring. Maybe that’s why she decided against ordering dessert. A pity, perhaps.

And, after a round of cappuccinos, that was it. We’d taken a friend to dinner, and our friend had been disappointed. Given that the bill came to $210, this was not very pleasing. As it turned out, our initial reaction to the menu had been correct: The chef was overreaching. The following night we took our friend to Ara’s, an Armenian-Lebanese restaurant on Melrose Avenue, which is like an object lesson in cooking simply, and well. Good vegetables, good meat, good rice, good wine, good dessert, good coffee, all for a reasonable price, with wonderful service. Our friend was happy. “Someone,” she said, “should build a museum next to this place.” 1200 Getty Center Drive; (310) 440-7300. (BB)

Viva at the Museum of Latin American Art

MoLAA is one of those small, intimate museums that can make bigger and better-known institutions feel pompous and sterile by comparison. And because it is located in Long Beach, the staff are out to please: They know a lot of people have had to drive a long way to visit them. Founded in 1996, it is (according to the brochure) the only museum in the western U.S. “which exclusively features contemporary Latin American fine art.” On exhibit until September 10 is a show of contemporary Cuban art, all of it the work of artists in their 20s and 30s, that is worth a look. Not all of it is successful, but there is an emotional and technical richness to the best of it that’s lacking in most contemporary-art shows. At any rate, there are at least two things that differentiate their work from that of their American peers: They live in a poor country, and they know how to draw.

Viva, the museum’s restaurant, is different from most museum eateries in that it’s interesting enough to exist in its own right, while nonetheless managing to feel like an integral part of the whole. It has a lovely outdoor patio that’s roomy enough for the three trees (including a sizable palm) that sprout from its tiled floor. There are dishes from all over Latin America and the Spanish-speaking Caribbean (Panama, Cuba, Mexico . . .), and on the menu each item is identified not only by nationality but with a picture of the national flag as well. There are also miniature flags kept in a vase on each table. If nothing else, a visit to Viva will teach you a lot about flags. Go, and impress your friends afterward.