Restaurants; A Second Reason for Going to Moomba

YOU can't get a Saturday night reservation at Moomba.

I know. I tried for months. I also discovered that unless you are a famous person (or related to one) you can't get a reservation later than 7:30. But eating early does have its advantages. The staff treats you with such respectful deference you wonder when they will ask how it felt to fight the Civil War. It also means that by the time the music becomes a throbbing beast dominating the dreary dining room, you are ready to leave.

Why would you even want a reservation at this five-month-old restaurant? Well, perhaps to have a chance to rub shoulders with the celebrities who pack the place as the night wears on, the opportunity, as you are leaving, to brush against Laurence Fishburne or Oliver Stone, who are two of the owners, as they walk in the door. It does make you feel, if only for a moment, that you are in the center of the social universe. On the other hand, you could go to Moomba for the food.

The chef, Frank Falcinelli, also an owner, is wildly ambitious. He seems intent on ignoring the fact that nobody really goes to Moomba to eat. Or perhaps he is simply getting ready for the time when the celebrities move on to the next hot place and Moomba is transformed from a scene to a restaurant.

When that time comes he will have to do something about the setting. Except for the corner tables near the kitchen, most of the seats are awkward and crowded. Beyond that, those seated in the balcony have to contend with the smoke that wafts up from the bar. He will have to do something about the noise, as well. When the music gets going it is virtually impossible to have a conversation. Most of the food, however, will require very little work.

By then, one assumes, he will have stopped trying too hard. Sometimes all this energy is a good thing, as in the wonderful tuna tartare, which is served in a glass bowl embedded in a mountain of ice. The chopped tuna is laced with the spicy heat of wasabi and the sharpness of scallions, but both are tempered by the icy coolness of the fish. I like the sweetbreads, too, which are carved into nuggets and cooked until each is no more than a crisp little bit, then tossed with frisee in a hazelnut vinaigrette touched with blue cheese; the flavors come together in a very intriguing way.

The house-cured anchovies in the Caesar salad are also a nice touch, although they will be better when the kitchen learns to make them a little less tough. Prawns are charred over hickory, heads and all, then served with a tasty salsa of roasted tomatoes and avocados. And it is a pleasure to get oysters on the half shell with three different sauces -- wasabi, salsa and good old cocktail.