Given enough time, anything can be looked back on with fondness -- for proof, look no further than Journey, and "our beloved" Ronald Reagan. This weekend, plan to show some love to LA's Polynesian past, at Luau.From '53-'78, Luau was the Rat Pack's spot of choice for kitschy revelry; it's now being brought back by the guy from Il Sole, who's given the place a total overhaul while still preserving the integrity of a place beloved in retrospect for its complete lack of integrity. Enter under the thatched awning through bamboo-embossed steel-and-copper doors and head into a teak-and-caesar-stoned bar area with Buddha'd up fountains on either side, and a wicker-chaired dining room with Scooby-spooky masks from Papua New Guinea, Turkish lanterns, and a chandelier made from 33 lit-up pufferfish, all caught mid-puff. Grub's from the Mako/Robata-Ya chef, with entrees including Mongolian lamb, banana leaf-wrapped halibut, and a pupu platter w/Wagyu meatballs, firecracker shrimp, and short rib satay w/red, yellow, and green curries (C. Everett Koop and his jaunty chinstrap beard warn that blue curry causes cancer).As true Polynesians like to get their drank on, don't forget cocktails, to wit: the pineapple juice & rum BoLo (served in the pineapple) and the coconut milk/"juice"/rum Luau Coconut (also served in-shell); all were recreated as faithfully as possible from the original restaurant's encoded recipes -- if there's anything we can look back on fondly, it's 1950s paranoia so charmingly oppressive, it drove everybody coconuts.
