First impressions: Jian BBQ

(Credit: Alex Lampila)

We'd heard rumblings of a high-end Korean restaurant west of Western Avenue, but the cartoon of the menacing Asian swordsman that overlooks Jian BBQ has us worried. As does the scene that follows: A dry-ice fountain of a large Buddha head greets patrons at the entrance. Fancy woodwork decorates a bar that’s also lined with pachinko machines (essentially, Japanese pinball games). And there are giant robots—actually, they're Gigantor robots, modeled after the pioneering manga “Tetsujin 28.”

Our tall, blond waiter looks a lot like that dude from “One Tree Hill.” As we follow him into the spacious dining area, the embellishments are starting to feel like Buddha’s Belly—just bigger, hipper, shinier. Would we, in kind, find fusion in the kitchen? Pad thai and moo shu alongside the bulgogi, perhaps? But a quick skim through the menu reveals recognizable Korean dishes—granted, sometimes romanized quirkily—with a smattering of contemporary touches.

Galbi, as expected, is available for barbecue pleasures, but there are also options of salmon, tuna belly and even market-price Wagyu beef from Kobe prefecture. (Now, that's impressive.) Each meat order comes with a few veggies for grilling: a thick slice of onion, a large stalk of asparagus, a mushroom cap. Our waiter fires things up, but we eventually grab those tongs to do it right ourselves. The quality of the protein really shines through (which should be the case at these prices). Galbi is downright buttery cooked medium-rare, and the spicy marinated pork is best when the edges of the thinly sliced pieces get good and caramelized.

Modern takes are more boldly on display in executive chef Eun San Lee’s creative appetizers. Bypassing standards like jap chae (stir-fried glass noodles) and pa jeon (seafood-scallion pancakes), we attempt a sophisticated little offering called aww mari. It’s a successful union of sweet snow crab, tofu and crunchy bean sprouts rolled in filets of halibut and served atop the restaurant’s signature Jian sauce, which is itself a citrusy, red-peppery wonder.

What surprises us most—in the room of flashy haircuts and extras from “The Hills” (an episode was actually filmed here)—is Jian’s commitment to the traditional. The standard set of banchan is expertly prepared: various kimchi, bean sprouts dressed in sesame oil, and—our favorite—crunchy, salty, sweet dried baby anchovies. There’s a good selection of the stews, soups and casseroles that form the true backbone of Korean cuisine, and even a pungent miso-based chigae that’s not for the faint of palate. In fact, the evening's piece de resistance is an equally sumptuous casserole of black cod braised in a sweet and spicy sauce; it's so soft, we make quick work of gobbling it up. The deep-fried tofu croutons that come with it should be served as a side on to themselves—that way, you wouldn't end up robo-battling for the fourth and final piece.

Food: Upper-scale Korean barbecue with regard for tradition.

Scene: Curious Beverly Center types not accustomed to venturing into K-town for the authentic goods. But it’s the real deal that’s being served here, friends.

Insider tip: The state-of-the-art circular grills do an expert job at smoke-sucking, so your date won’t smell like meat—unless you’re really into that.

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