Simple is the new trendy

To be perfectly honest, I didn’t have great hopes for Nine Thirty, the new restaurant at the W Hotel in Westwood. This particular W -- the L.A. branch of the hip hotel chain with locations in Manhattan, San Francisco, Sydney, Seoul, Mexico City and Montreal, etc. -- opened five years ago, making it practically a dinosaur in respect to what’s current and hot now. But Ws must keep their edge, so the hotel was recently completely redone with a new look and a new restaurant.

I knew that Ludovic Lefebvre had dropped out as chef after planning the fine dining restaurant and a poolside barbecue (instead he replaced Alain Giraud at Bastide). Next in line was chef Kelly Courtney, who moved out from Chicago, where she was chef-partner at Mod, to create her vision of a farmer-to-table restaurant, but she, too, quit just weeks after the restaurant opened. Then silence.

When I finally got there, I went more with duty in mind than any sense of excitement. Outside, valets in black outfitted with Bluetooth headsets roar off in Porsches and souped-up sports cars. Metrosexuals out front are frantically text messaging their buddies as posses of young women teeter toward the entrance on the highest heels known to man or Manolo.

A virtual doormat spills the words “Dream now,” picked out in lights, across the floor. Above the bank of elevators, whales dive into the deep, turning gracefully, captured in a film loop projected on the wall. On smaller screens to the side, a disembodied hand fingers a patch of grass; fighting fish with extravagant ribbons of tail swim into view and then out of the frame.

Just beyond the entrance, the bar scene rules. Groupings of sofas and chairs or poufs are tucked into corners so dark it’s hard to detect if they’re already occupied or not. It’s an accident waiting to happen: Someone could be seriously squashed.

Muscle your way through the cocktail-toting crowd and head due north, toward the cool blue light emanating from the little bar inside the restaurant. Semi-transparent walls of woven bamboo and thin strips of wood give the room a tropical vibe, but it’s not at all unruly.

A radical concept

Given the restaurant’s previous incarnation with an overwrought Latin theme, the design is surprisingly unfussy and spare, with banquettes set along the walls.

After the murkiness of the lounge, the dining room is a a pleasant change, drenched in light coming from giant overhead fixtures with amber-tinted bulbs. You can actually see what you’re eating. What a concept.

OK, now, guess the cuisine. Wrong. Wrong. And wrong. It’s not fusion, pan-Asian street food or Caribbean tarted up with all sorts of bells and whistles. The W has gone with something radical: food that is remarkably direct and unfussy, more Chez Panisse than Sona.

The menu trumpets the fact that the chef has gone out of his way to procure top-notch ingredients by naming the farms that produced them. It could be a pretension, but when you taste the lettuce or the pork chop, you know it’s more than lip service.

Take something as ordinary-sounding as a plate of mixed olives. They’re served on a white porcelain dish the width of a finger, framing a line of green and brown and purple and speckled olives slicked with oil. Each is distinctive, and delicious.

Mussels arrive on a flat-iron skillet, which the waiter carefully sets on a wire rack, the kind that usually holds seafood platters. Unwrapping the towel around the handle, he leaves them, still spurting steam, with the caution that the pan is very hot. No kidding. Served simply with butter and sea salt and wedges of lemon, they’re sweet and tender. One night, though, the mussels taste a little funky, as if they’d been around too long. Maybe nobody else is ordering them?

The Caesar is made with whole leaves of ruby-speckled romaine from Coleman Farms. The dressing is perfectly balanced, embellished with good Parmigiano-Reggiano and croutons made from thin, garlic-rubbed slices of baguette. This aesthetic carries over to the other salads I tried, each one uncannily delicious.

Those tiny green French lentils are served warm, with emerald leaves of organic spinach and Redwood Hill goat cheese. The dressing has a splash of vinegar that plays up the earthiness of the lentils and the cheese. Thinly sliced heirloom apples dance with celery, Spanish Marcona almonds, and a svelte dressing of aged cider vinegar barely sweetened with buckwheat honey.

What a surprise.

Easygoing food

Executive chef Travis Lett’s menu is divided into small and large plates, which seems to encourage the bar crowd to feel comfortable stopping in for a couple of small plates. It may be the only way to grab that crucial demographic.

Commitment to a full-scale extravaganza not required. This is easygoing food, ideal hotel food -- especially captivating if you’ve just wandered down from your room for something to eat after a long flight.

One night, cream and gray hen-of-the-woods mushrooms are pan-roasted with creme fraiche and a thick slice of bread that’s soaked up pan juices. It’s like a deconstructed mushroom soup, and though it has truffle oil, the chef uses it with a light enough hand that it seems more a memory of truffles than anything else. Another day, he cooks chanterelles the same way, but I prefer the delicately musky taste of the hen-of-the-woods.

Carpaccio is one of the best ways to show off Kobe beef’s supple texture. Here it is a beautiful dish, the deep red slices of beef garnished with a clump of halved green and purple grapes. Their sweet-tart taste and a dribble of aged balsamic set off the richly marbled beef. Diver scallops the size of pincushions are seared in cast iron and presented with fingerling potatoes and wilted greens, a combination of flavors that really clicks.

Some of the crowd, though, are paying more attention to who’s at the next table or compulsively checking their BlackBerrys than savoring what’s in front of them. And as the evening progresses, the noise spilling over from the bar mounts.

At my table, though, all phones are off, and we’re focused on the food. I could happily make a meal of a couple of the small plates, but the heartier dishes herded under the large-plate category are pretty appealing too.

Roast Shelton Farms half chicken is one of the best roast chickens I’ve had in a restaurant recently; the moist bird is served in a late harvest Riesling sauce (chicken and Riesling are made for each other). And when the accompaniment is earthy kale cooked Catalan-style with currants and pine nuts, the effect is fresh and interesting.

A thick veal rib chop comes with creamed organic spinach, subtle enough not to drown out the delicate veal.

But it’s the braised dishes that really stand out, such as the beef short ribs. Falling off the bone tender, they’re simmered in Zinfandel. The wine, used with a very light hand, mingles with the juices, though not over-reduced. The taste is very pure.

The same goes for the braised lamb shank with French flageolet beans and buttered crumbs, sort of a deconstructed cassoulet. The lamb is clearly the star.

Service issues

When the kitchen falters, it’s usually with the plating, not the cooking. Ribollita, the Tuscan soup that is “reboiled” with a slice of bread to thicken it, arrives in a laughably large white porcelain bowl that’s the shape of a doughboy helmet. The soup spoon is smaller than usual, completely out of proportion.

Service from waiters in slouchy blue T-shirts can be amateurish, but it’s always friendly and unpretentious, which is a relief given the trendy circumstances.

When I order the rib-eye steak one night, the waiter brings out a rectangular wooden frame and sets it in front of me. Am I supposed to weave my own placemat? It turns out it’s a sort of trivet for a cast iron griddle holding my steak. “Watch out, hot plate,” the server announces briskly. But she’s carrying it with her bare hands, so how hot can it be? It’s actually barely warm. And my steak could be hotter too. But it’s tender and cooked correctly.

The wine list is a shade offbeat for a hotel list. I can actually find a couple of wines I’d like to drink and at markups that aren’t quite as high as some hotel lists’. But you may have to keep the waiter from pouring too much wine into your glass.

Desserts make an interesting statement. Top on my list is the affogato, beautifully smooth vanilla bean ice cream scribbled with caramel sauce and “drowned” in a cup of espresso right at the table. But here comes another awkward bowl, this one with high swooping sides. Sigh.

For something lighter, there’s a lovely lemon budino, sort of a cake/pudding with the texture of a cloud. With four spoons heading its way, it is demolished in a matter of seconds. There’s also a neat molten chocolate cake with a tender crumb; it’s made with excellent bittersweet chocolate.

One last touch: With the bill comes chocolate truffles. They’re dark chocolate ganache rolled in cocoa powder, like the ones you get in France. Way to go, W.

Unfortunately, though, the restaurant has the same logistical problem as Whist in the Viceroy. Serious foodies just aren’t going to brave the tedium of the scene, the noise or the snarl at the valet. Eating at Nine Thirty may require a different strategy. Instead of running with the trendoids, pop in for lunch or an early dinner.

And leave the BlackBerry at home.

*

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Nine Thirty

Rating: ** 1/2

Location: 930 Hilgard Ave., Los Angeles, (310) 208-8765

Ambience: Chic hotel dining room with woven wood and bamboo walls, its own separate bar, and a crowd that’s a mix of hotel guests and trendoids.

Service: Sometimes amateurish, but friendly, without the attitude you might expect from such a trendy venue.

Price: Small plates, $9 to $16; large plates, $23 to $36; sides, $8 to $10; desserts, $10.

Best dishes: Mussels served in a flat-iron skillet, Caesar salad, pan-roasted hen-of the-woods mushrooms with creme fraiche, ribollita, Kobe beef carpaccio, cast-iron seared diver scallops with wilted greens, veal rib chop, pork chop with Brussels sprouts and polenta, braised beef short rib, braised lamb shank, affogato, lemon budino.

Wine list: An unusual hotel list with some small producers and interesting choices. Corkage, $25.

Best table: A corner banquette

Special features: Room service

Details: Open 7 a.m. to 1 a.m. daily; Sunday brunch from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Full bar. Valet parking, $5 with validation.

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.