Elizabeth Mathews

I urge restaurant owners to think small.

I find New Year's Eve one of the most depressing nights of the year. So much emphasis is placed on forced gaiety, on the ritual of seeing the old year out, on sentimentality; it's more than I can cope with or even tolerate. More important is what is implicit at year's end: the summing up, the making of lists, the judgments. Confronting this mental balance sheet is always a chore. If I repress it, I get a headache; if I face it, there's always an element of sadness and regret. Last year I had a great New Year's Eve. After a modest dinner at an unpretentious restaurant, I got into my hot-pink bunny suit, stayed away from all parties, and at about 11:00 p.m., I called all of my loved ones and wished them a good year. At midnight I watched the ball descend in Times Square, New York; and once it came to a full stop, I switched off the television, relieved that it was all over and that I could get on with my life.

Needless to say, I feel a similar tinge of both sadness and pleasure when the time comes to wrap up my year of restaurant reviewing. Every restaurateur is exactly like a parent with a child. Have you ever met a new parent who didn't believe his offspring was beautiful? Have you ever met a restaurateur who didn't think his restaurant served the best meals in town? Some weeks I am in despair because there's been a dry stretch in which the kindest act would be for me to write nothing. In regard to this silence, I practice it more than some people realize. There is no point, for example, in attacking a small family restaurant, no matter how bad it is. In those cases, I simply pay my money and walk out. Such restaurants close by themselves and I certainly don't have to deliver any coup de grace. Moreover, some restaurants continue to flourish though they receive almost unanimous condemnation.

The essential element in the professional life of any critic is hope coupled with innocence, or, as the song from Cabaret goes, "Maybe this time I'll get lucky." Realizing that all lists are dangerous because in the real world there is little that is simply black and white, though there is lots of gray, here are some restaurants that deserve mention for 1980.

The single best meal I had was at the El Bizcocho Room at the Inn at Rancho Bernardo during their "Semaine Culinaire," a week of gourmet cooking at the end of July. The meal was prepared by guest chef Christian Gaborit and resident chef Jacques Comelis. At the price of forty-five dollars it included seven courses, at least a half dozen wines, and was a celebration of elegant service and impeccable food. From my point of view, it was not well attended by San Diego's connoisseurs of haute cuisine. Should the event be repeated next summer, I urge you to save your pennies and make reservations. As I write this, and without consulting my notes, I still remember the lobster salad, followed by thin slices of poached salmon on champagne chanterelle sauce, not to mention the wafer crescents of duck in a sweet-and-sour sauce. Regrettably, I can't urge you to try it next week — you simply have to wait for this treat. This tells us something about the state of culinary arts in this area, when we have to hope for a once-a-year meal of such caliber.

Some of you may be wondering why Bertrand's in Leucadia is not up there in the pantheon of stars. Bertrand himself has recently departed the restaurant. He was an extraordinary host with total recall; he could remember what you ordered and what your preferences were weeks or months after you had been there, and he saw to it that your every whim was met. What it will be like without him remains to be seen; at least the chef is still there. But since the restaurant business is so mercurial, one has to wait to discover whether Bertrand's will retain its special vitality without its maestro at the helm (A similar situation exists at La Mediterranee in Solana Beach. The death of its chef/manager last summer meant that this restaurant had to reorganize as if it were opening for the first time.)

Though the following restaurants are somewhat less exalted, they should be applauded for providing consistently good food at moderate cost. Among them is Baci's (1955 Morena Boulevard), which this year perfected its Italian meals. Homemade pasta is served, and if you call in advance, they will whip up the Italian dinner of your dreams. Unfortunately, its location cannot be considered an asset, but the restaurant certainly deserves your attention.

A continuing marvel of low prices and excellent Greek-Turkish food is Effendi (3748 Mission Boulevard). I was there a few weeks ago with my sons and found it as interesting gastronomically and as reasonably priced as any restaurant in San Diego. The slightly scruffy location is unfortunate, but once you are upstairs, you will rejoice with pleasure.

A new broom sweeps briskly, and a new branch of Mandarin House (2604 Fifth Avenue, Hill-crest) has brought forth the best in its managers. Try the steamed whole fish in black bean sauce and the chef's chicken. You won't be disappointed. While the La Jolla branch remains uneven, this one is very good.

The best new Chinese restaurant of 1980 and possibly one of the best in San Diego is Sze Chuan (4951A Clairemont Drive, Clairemont Square Shopping Center). The Mandarin-Szechuan cooking is first-rate and the prices are reasonable.

For Vietnamese cooking, Saigon (6178 University Avenue) wins hands down. The lemon squab is wondrous. There's truly not a mediocre dish in the house. It's a bit out of the way for some, and it does not have a glamorous interior, but the food is great.

While most of the Japanese dishes are adequate at Tengu (8690 Aero Drive, Kearny Mesa), the sushi bar deserves very high marks. If possible, avoid regular lunch and dinner hours and you will also avoid the crowds.

A small, pleasant restaurant worthy of mention this year is Villa Rosalie (3928 Twigg Street, Old Town), not only for its charming dinners (try the evening specials) but because it is open in the late afternoon, from 3:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m., for light meals. One of the hardest things to find in San Diego is a restaurant that will serve you after lunch and before dinner. The cooking is good, the food fresh, the style Continental, but not overwhelmed with sauces.

The food may be very expensive at Yae Japanese Restaurant (11616 Iberia Place, Rancho Bernardo), but it's worth the drive to see this beautifully appointed establishment. There's a separate teppan room, a widely varied menu, and fine-quality food. The limitations are the high prices and the tendency of the waitresses to rush you out of there. But it surely will relieve your sense of monotony.

Perplexities of the year: I can't understand why Lehr's Greenhouse continues to pack them into that glass house when the food is so lackluster, if not bad, and the noise and bustle level so high. This restaurant proves that some people would rather gaze at pretty centerpieces of flowers and have jungle greens tickling their necks than eat well. Or maybe, unbeknownst to me, they eat the surrounding greenery and let it go at that.

I continue to wonder why Who Song and Larry's in La Jolla attracts diners. My God, what a zoo! Of course, maybe that's the secret. Everyone knows the food is awful, but perhaps would-be playwrights go there for material for a rewrite of Zoo Story.

Last, I wonder why Di Canti's (5721 La Jolla Boulevard, La Jolla) didn't develop a large following this year. While it does not make its own pasta, the veal is top quality, as is the fish. The service is fine, the atmosphere lovely. Bu( due to the vagaries of taste, it thus far hasn't enjoyed a wide patronage. Too many eclectic elements in the cooking? I've always enjoyed my meals there.

This year, as always, I urge restaurant owners to think small. Through the years, I have taken delight from Sun's Kitchen, a "natural" Chinese restaurant in La Jolla which has a tiny, unprepossessing physical plant but food that is consistently wholesome. Its devotees are many and when it was rumored that there might be a move to a different location, its followers were aghast. I mention this because the tendency in San Diego has been to vast enterprises with baronial halls that seat hundreds. It is extremely chancy that such places will succeed. Andalucia in La Jolla closed, and while the restaurants in Quivira Basin hang on, their huge dining areas seem half full. Some large restaurants bring in country music or whatever gimmicks they think will work. But in 1980, as in any year, good quality and reasonable prices always take precedence over cavernous rooms. Who, after all, wants to eat with 250 people? I really have to gird my loins to enter one of those large establishments.

It would be uncharacteristic of me to conclude without naming three or four favorite dessert places. I had the best crepes suzettes at the El Bizcocho Room at the Inn at Rancho Bernardo, the best Grand Marnier souffle at Pisces, the best tarte tatin at L'Escargot, and the best lemon souffle cake at the French Gourmet in La Jolla.

This year, since I have worked closer than ever with physicians and nutritionists, I urge all restaurants to use less salt, to serve unsalted butter, and to consider placing on their menus items that can be prepared salt-free. This would be especially easy with fresh fish. It would also be helpful if smokers were consistently separated from nonsmokers.

My Aunt Bertha joins me in wishing all of you a fine new year. □