Jan. 10 (Bloomberg) -- To understand the Russian Tea Room, look no further than the Russian philosopher Nikolai Fedorov, who believed in the resurrection of the dead.

This midtown New York restaurant, famously next to Carnegie Hall, should no longer exist, but nothing can kill it. Beloved longtime hostess Faith Stewart-Gordon is gone. Owner Warner LeRoy is gone. Even the pork pelmeni are gone.

But there it is, recently reopened, looking as fantastic as ever.

The huge clock still hangs from the ceiling, as it did in pre-Bluetooth days, reminding agents, managers and celebrities of appointments that await. Alas, the agents, managers and celebrities are gone, too.

At one visit, a slob in jeans and a Rolling Stones sweatshirt sat in the first booth on the left, the one that Carol Channing so often occupied.

The Russian Tea Room first opened in 1926 and has endured numerous, sometimes painful, changes of ownership. Most disastrous was LeRoy's, who tarted up an establishment that already resembled a Russian carousel -- though he pretty much left the all-important ground-floor dining room untouched.

The restaurant is now a tourist destination with a fancified menu by Gary Robins, a dazzlingly inventive chef (who moves around an awful lot for such a talented guy). His new creations are complex and original, though encumbered by too many creamy accompaniments -- nobody will ever complain that the food isn't moist.

Mushrooms, Anyone?

The menu might as well be written in Cyrillic, so poorly are the items described. A multitude of ingredients are listed, although not necessarily the important ones. Mushrooms are always turning up unannounced.

All manner of colorful but undefined Russian food terms pop up, too, a few being blinchiki (crepes), vareniki (Ukrainian dumplings) and studen (meat in aspic).

Once you sort those out, it's on to Japan, because you'll notice tataki (seared fish). I sighed with relief to see a luncheon entree of market fish ``simply grilled.''

The wine list isn't terrible, but it is random, lacking any particular point of view. I rather liked the 2005 Nittnaus Zweigelt from Austria, a potent $30 red with the raw, proactive power to stand up to the heavyweight cuisine.

There's nothing frivolous about the sweets, either. They taste compressed, as if the pastry chef were experimenting with confit of dessert. It's heavy going when the excellent chocolate souffle is the most refreshing option.

Yellowtail and Sorbet

I ate two very pleasant dinners and an extraordinarily poor lunch -- at that one, the only good dish was the tataki, a light combination of seared hamachi with apple sorbet. It's totally out of place but wonderfully welcome.

In the Stewart-Gordon days, especially the '80s, lunch was the noteworthy meal -- and places were rightfully assigned. Stars to the front booths on the left, agents and managers to the front booths on the right.

I brought a friend who writes about Hollywood to my lunch. We were placed, by coincidence, in the same red-leather booth on the right where he ate with Winona Ryder and her agent just after the release of the 1990 film ``Mermaids.''

``She was 18 and wore gloves, as though she were going to a cotillion,'' he said. ``She had made the movie with Cher, who was a major star and came in to have dessert with us. The restaurant manager had a heart attack, he wanted to immediately move us to the left.''

His artichoke risotto was gummy and crowned with metallic, inedible shrimp. I had hot borscht, tasty but too thin. A third guest had scallops, bitter but not quite as ripe as the shrimp.

Unsparing Salt

A burger Pojarski (named for a military leader who might have been the Ronald McDonald of Russia) consisted of rare chopped veal on a fresh, sweet bun. It also had a problem, one shared with quite a few other dishes -- excessive saltiness. (Well, Russians do love salt.)

The Hollywood guy was undismayed. ``It was never about the food,'' he said. He loved being in the restaurant, which he said looked better than he remembered: Startlingly bright greens and reds. Imperial firebirds. Chandeliers laced with Christmas balls. Walls packed tight with paintings.

``Arlene Dahl loved the lighting,'' he said. ``I was always coming here with her and her pals, Cyd Charisse or Jane Powell. They all looked good.''

On visit two I brought a 13-year-old from New Jersey, expecting her to be awed by the ambience. She was unimpressed, likening the decor to a Hoboken bistro near her home. (Ah, kids today.)

Still, she loved the food, and with good reason. She plowed through a grilled quail appetizer (called ``cider-glazed'' on the menu but also encircled by anise seeds and cinnamon) and a rib- eye steak, both luscious.

Foie Gras Dumplings

At this meal I sampled the standbys: pelmeni (Russian pierogi), chicken Kiev and beef Stroganoff. The latter two are listed on the back of the menu, deliberate afterthoughts. Many mourn the disappearance of the old pork pelmeni, but I was perfectly happy with the new foie gras version, served in a garlicky oxtail broth. The pelmeni were decidedly livery, which I didn't mind.

The Stroganoff is a successful bit of a deconstruction. Instead of chunks of meat over noodles, this version is a block of intensely rich braised meat topped with a scoop of horseradish cream -- it looks like a brownie a la mode. The noodles are on the side, rolled up.

Colorless Kiev

The chicken Kiev is best avoided. It's classically sliced open tableside, and butter gushes forth, soaking the pomegranate- seeded ``plov,'' a Russian rice pilaf. The rice benefits, but the pallid breaded chicken could have come from your grocer's freezer.

My last guest was an old Russia hand who traveled to Moscow with a high-ranking U.S. government delegation in 1988 and was put up at the Rossiya Hotel, just off Red Square. ``It was enormous, dilapidated, and we had to eat all our meals there,'' she said.

Each one, she recalls, included smoked sturgeon, so that's what she had. She declared the Russian Tea Room's tea-smoked version considerably superior, especially when it cooled down, muting the smokiness. (She was also pleased that it wasn't accompanied by hot dogs, as at the Rossiya.)

Service at the Russian Tea Room tends to be abundant, friendly and not particularly well-coordinated, but at this meal we had an uncharacteristically dour young waitress.

For my friend, more memories. The waitress spoke little English, talked at odd moments, never smiled and rarely looked at us.

My friend was certain she was Russian. We asked where she was from.

``France,'' she replied.

The Bloomberg Questions

Cost? Prices range from $14 for the borscht (at lunch) to $48 for the rib-eye steak.

Sound level? You'll have to speak up; the golden ceiling echoes every word.

Date place? Sure, if you've just had your hair done, are wearing a fur, sitting alone, drinking coffee and hoping that your long-gone lover will reappear.

Tip? The reservationist will tell you the attire is ``business casual, jackets required.'' Sadly, not true. Dress as badly as you wish.

Special feature? Walk downstairs and peruse the Russian knickknacks on display.

Lunch? Yes.

Will I be back? When Maria Sharapova asks me out.

The Russian Tea Room is at 150 W. 57th St. Information: +1-212-581-7100 or http://www.russiantearoomnyc.com.

(Alan Richman is a restaurant critic for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this story: Alan Richman at thecritic@optonline.net.

Last Updated: January 10, 2007 00:10 EST