RESTAURANT REVIEW : A Blast From the Tropics at the Garden

I was headed out to the Fairfax district a few weeks ago, to Tropical Garden Restaurant, when my Uncle Jack paid a surprise visit. “You can come along,” I said. “But this place might be too . . . too fancy for you. It has California-Caribbean cuisine.”

“They told me at my last elder hostel that I needed to be more open-minded,” Uncle Jack said.

“I’ve been telling you that for years.”

The first thing that stunned Uncle Jack and thrilled me is that the Tropical is located in a big IHOP (International House of Pancakes) A-frame. The outside is a bright, saturated pink with a tropical mural spanning the entryway. A pretty patio area has tables and umbrellas. Inside, there are deep turquoise walls with yellow and purple highlights. Palm fronds are slung at rakish angles from the ceiling and there’s an extensive collection of thrift store art--clowns, etc. “It’s hideous . . . but also rather charming,” said Uncle Jack.

“It’s hip, Uncle Jack,” I said. “Very hip.”

Uncle Jack looked around some more and started chuckling. “If only an IHOP CEO could see this. A franchise gone wacko.”

A flowering tropical plant, potted in a coconut shell, sat on each table. Uncle Jack cocked his head, listened to the music, and then made some funny hand and arm motions. “It’s a samba,” he said. “Your Aunt Peggy and I used to samba.”

For a moment, I thought he might get up and execute a few steps and I glanced around nervously. But there were only a few other diners in the restaurant. Tropical Garden been open only a couple of months. Its newness--and its lack of a liquor license--has kept the place sparsely populated on weeknights.

Meanwhile, Uncle Jack and I settled down and studied the bright-yellow menus, which are very reminiscent in both form and content of one of L.A.’s first neo-tropical pan-American cafes, Cha Cha Cha. The resemblance is not accidental: Toribio Prado, the boy-wonder chef and co-owner of Cha Cha Cha and Cafe Mambo, is a cousin to the Tropical Garden’s owner. I searched for my Cha Cha Cha favorites--corn chowder, sopes , citrus-marinated chicken--and found them.

Meanwhile, Uncle Jack was tossing out accusatory questions. “Beef wrapped in banana? Shrimp in pineapple?” he asked. “You’d better just order for me. I’m uh, up for anything.”

So I went ahead and ordered the chalupa de platano , a.k.a. banana boats: three small short cylinders of sweet ripe plantain wrapped around wonderfully spicy meat served with just a bit of lively, scrunchy pineapple-onion-cilantro-pepper salsa. We both loved them and also the estrellas de pollo , three star-shaped sopes filled with black beans, spicy stewed chicken, and bright-colored, flavored vegetables. The Juana la Cubana , a simple salad of asparagus and sweet pepper, was fresh and invigorating. “A steady diet of this and I might start to rumba compulsively,” Uncle Jack said.

I loved my cumin-rich ropa vieja , beef stewed to both its beefiest essence and a texture often reminiscent of chewing on stringy old clothes--a peculiarly gratifying sensation. Uncle Jack was a bit less taken with his camarones con pina (shrimp served with rice in a hollowed-out pineapple half) and I didn’t blame him: Something had given the good, fresh, sweet shrimp a faint but unappealing mealiness. The accompanying rice, a rich mixture of the savory vegetables and sweet fruit, was delicious. We left in great moods, and Uncle Jack did indeed show me a few samba steps in the parking lot.

I returned to Tropical Garden Restaurant a few days later on a hot, humid evening with two friends, one who was familiar with Cha Cha Cha and Cafe Mambo, and one who wasn’t. Both were equally delighted by the food--the lively pan-Latin mix seemed the perfect complement to the damp, hot tropical weather. The sopa de maiz was that great thin, tarragon-scented corn chowder we grew to know and love at Cha Cha Cha. The thin-crusted pizza primavera was full of bright, fresh flavors. The tamales, three little corn meal cases, although well-sauced, were disappointing--cold and crumbly.

The roast pork was juicy and served with excellent black beans, steamed potatoes, and sweet-fried plantains, but it paled next to two of the night’s specials: a spicy black pepper shrimp and a succulent curried chicken breast.

While scooping up spoonfuls of cool, not-too-sweet almond flan, one friend said, “These days, I forget there’s something other than pasta and Caesar salads to be had in this town. What a relief.”

Tropical Garden Restaurant, 637 S. Fairfax Ave, (213) 923-5231. Open for lunch and dinner seven days. Liquor license pending. Parking in lot. MasterCard and Visa. Dinner for two, food only, $36-$55.