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Desserts were also a bit uneven. None of the listed sweets was available on the night we visited, so we tested two specials. The first, a key lime cheesecake, was beautifully served, a round cheesecake napped with a raspberry coulis, sprinkled with fresh raspberries, and lidded with a shortbread cookie. The problem lay in the cheesecake itself, which was as lumpy as cottage cheese. Nutty chocolate bars, the second dessert, was outstanding: Three rich, slightly crunchy chocolate "fingers" -- also garnished with berries -- were set amidst a vanilla bean sauce. They tasted like gourmet Kit-Kat bars.
Named for the Art Deco-inspired artist who died in 1990, the 130-seat Cafe Erte features a handful of authentic works by the artist on its walls, all drawn from Reilly and Doheny's personal collection. Art Deco fans will appreciate how the jeweled costumes depicted in Erte's works reflect the ruby tones of the room -- red carpet, striped red-and-gold chairs, and lacquered tables with art prints embossed onto them. The eatery also has dozens of mounted TV monitors playing music videos, a 60-foot bar at which to sip martinis, and a varnished dance floor for after-dinner hours. Cafe Erte boasts the slogan "the art of being unique." Judging by atmosphere alone, that phrase has the ring of truth. Now if only the menu would follow suit.
Hotel-school grad Ted Johnson wasn't looking for investments. After a decade of working for hotels and banquet halls in the catering business, he and his wife Patricia were searching for a way to open their first restaurant. He says he found the "opportunities in downtown [Hollywood] to be very economical. It's not as pretty as Las Olas or Boca or as trendy as South Beach." But like Reilly and Doheny, he saw potential in the area and opened Impromptu one year ago on the north side of Hollywood Boulevard. Unlike Erte, however, Impromptu, a 50-seat restaurant whose contemporary international menu features Asian, Southwestern, Italian, and Latin American accents, pretends to nothing except satisfying its customers, although it, too, has something of an art theme, only more homemade -- a large, painted, Mediterranean-theme mural covers the restaurant's back wall, and its dishes have names such as chicken Dali. While service can be slightly oversolicitous and some dishes can fail, I felt the overall effort was honest enough to woo me back eventually.
Seafood concoctions -- including coconut-crusted shrimp, swordfish bites with ginger-teriyaki glaze, and conch chowder -- dominate the appetizers list. We thought a pair of crabcakes superb, golden crusts that broke open to reveal moist, Maryland blue crab spiked with bell pepper and onion. A relish comprising pickled green tomatoes and red onions accented the cakes, and red bell pepper and mustard sauces -- streaked on the plate -- were ideal condiments. On the other hand, a starter of fried calamari was skimpy, a fact we didn't mind once we tasted the deep-fried rings and legs. The squid was as chewy as pencil erasers, and even a dunk in the flavorful marinara sauce didn't help matters.
Although swordfish, snapper, and salmon are available as main courses, we opted for meat dishes. The first, a marinated churrasco, was presented coiled up and skewered on a long wooden toothpick. Once unwound, the Argentine-style skirt steak was large, flat, and juicy, a real charcoaled treat. Side dishes, however, seemed uninspired -- cubed potatoes tasted like home fries, and a smear of cilantro sauce, billed as spicy on the menu, was little more than the crushed herb.
A special that evening, rack of veal, sounded promising; I don't recall ever being offered a rack of veal in a restaurant. (Usually it's a rack of lamb.) The actual dish was three grilled double chops, bigger and paler than lamb, smaller and a little fattier than the typical veal chop. Although we were somewhat disappointed with the singed flavor of the veal, in general we were satisfied if not completely smitten. A centerpiece of angel-hair pasta, dressed with shiitake mushrooms and a demi-glace, completed the dish.
Though not technically meat, of course, a good duck breast should taste like it. The pan-seared version at Impromptu certainly did, sliced and saturated with a vibrant sesame citrus sauce. The crisp skin, layered with fat, was easily removed to reveal medium-rare coins of the game bird. Sauteed baby corn and sugar snap peas, plus a piquant rice pilaf garnished with chickpeas and garden peas, accompanied the duck breast, which was on the small side.
As for the homemade desserts, we passed over flan with caramel sauce (a mistake, probably, given that Patricia Johnson's Peruvian mom makes it) and raspberry-chocolate mousse and instead chose a slice of three-tiered cheesecake -- chocolate, pistachio, and plain. It was runny, as if it had been left near the oven, but rich and filling.
The jury's still out concerning the so-called Hollywood renaissance: The pessimists point out what the area doesn't have, and the glass-half-full folks highlight what it does have. I agree with Ted Johnson, who insists, "A metamorphosis takes time." So does a smoothly running restaurant.
Cafe Erte. 1716 Harrison St., Hollywood, 954-925-1775. Open nightly from 4 p.m. to 2 a.m.; Friday and Saturday until 4 a.m.
Impromptu. 2039 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood, 954-923-7099. Lunch Tuesday-Friday from 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Dinner nightly from 5 to 10 p.m.