Jan. 31 (Bloomberg) -- Grand Central Oyster Bar & Restaurant is an institution. That's good. The food is institutional. That's not.

The basic plate, called Today's Catch on the astonishingly large menu (more than 150 food items), has fish, overcooked. Potato, boiled. Veggies, mixed.

I suspect that more uneaten cauliflower is scraped off plates here than anywhere on earth.

Yet this cherished restaurant, located since 1913 in New York's Grand Central Terminal, possesses a considerable virtue: I can't imagine where else in the city oysters are better, cheaper or in more abundant supply.

It is a place of eerie beauty, a subterranean study in off- white tile and vaulted ceilings that to me evokes memories of the Basilica Cistern in Istanbul. In reality, it bears a closer resemblance to Lex Luthor's lair in the 1978 film ``Superman.''

Just outside the main entrance are Grand Central's ghostly ``whispering corners,'' where friends can stand on opposite sides of a hallway and speak clearly to one another as if they were only a few feet apart.

I would find the Oyster Bar a little creepy were it not so straightforward and friendly. And I would find it wonderful if the food were more thoughtfully cooked.

I ate there three times, shortly after a friend who considers the place an enduring and special part of New York sent me his rules: Never eat in the main dining room. (I agree.) Never go for dinner. (Actually, it's the same as lunch.) Never, ever order fish. (He means flat fish, and, shockingly, he has a point.)

There are a multitude of better areas to eat in than the cavernous and cold main dining room, to the left as you enter. I prefer the clubbier Saloon, with its scuffed wood-paneling and red-and-white-checked tablecloths.

Two Counters

More important to many regulars are two counter areas: a large, serpentine-style setup of the sort that passed for communal dining in bygone days, and a smaller, diner-style counter facing a wall -- and the pan-roast guy.

He's the Oyster Bar's sole performer. Stands tall and lean. Cheekbones sharp enough to shuck oysters. Glowers. Bangs pots and bowls.

I asked our waiter about him. ``He's never happy. Never been in 22 years.''

At the speed of a feeding shark, using an ancient steam- driven kettle, he prepares the Oyster Bar's most dearly loved dish, the oyster pan roast. Also the oyster stew. (There are eight kinds of pan roasts and eight kinds of stews.)

Pan-Roast Problem

The stews are basically bivalves and crustaceans poached in cream and butter. The thicker pan roasts start that way but incorporate chili sauce, flecks of paprika and a slice of toast that would be soggy even if it weren't submerged.

Customers revere the pan roasts, but I am unable to find merit in the chili-cream melange. It's a study in incompatibility.

Then there's the flat fish. Important point: It's not the fault of the fish that it isn't good.

The fish buyer does fine. It's the cooking. Decades pass, entire kitchen staffs change, and still the Oyster Bar refuses to change. I guess I understand. Business is good.

On a typical day, the restaurant prepares about two dozen varieties of flat fish. I tried nine. Seven were not appealing, primarily because of overcooking. The striped bass had the virtue of not being dried out, almost certainly because it was thick. A filet of bluefish topped with a bacon-accented tomato sauce was perfect. The keys: thickness, and the unlikelihood of overcooking bluefish.

Beware the so-called Main Dishes, which test the culinary imagination of the kitchen staff, an example being the hoisin- marinated Alaskan black cod. There's nobody named Nobu back there.

Tough Fried Food

Also, the fried seafood will not bring back memories of clam shacks on old Cape Cod. Not the oysters. Not the clams. Not the calamari. You get dry, tough, chewy. The more delicate fried rock shrimp, inexplicably labeled ``Cajun fried Florida popcorn shrimp,'' save the fry cook's reputation.

Not to pile it on, but the lobster roll was an impossibly poor version of a dish that should not be difficult to do well. The mushy roll was pretoasted, the lobster meat unseasoned, the accompanying coleslaw insanely sugary.

I have a few favorites. I retried them. The eggs Benedict with salmon instead of Canadian bacon isn't perfect -- hollandaise too thin, muffin undertoasted -- but I would have it again. The Oysters Rockefeller tasted homemade rather than elegant, but I enjoyed them just the same.

I love the appetizer of Imperial Balik Salmon, a chunky cut of smoked and cured fish. A pattern emerges: For the best of the Oyster Bar, think thick.

Red Wines Galore

The wine list is famous. It used to be fabulous. It's still huge, but now the selections are obscure. It's a difficult list to fathom, and no sommelier will assist. There's a reserve list, almost as large, of expensive wines that really aren't appropriate to the food.

In total, more than 150 of the wines are red. There's precisely one piece of red meat on the menu, an ineptly trimmed, distressingly cooked sirloin steak of good quality. This place really, really believes in red wine with fish.

The raw clams are fine.

The raw oysters are excellent. I liked slurping up bits of shell and ocean detritus. I felt transported to a time when New Yorkers sat at counters and ate oysters endlessly.

More than two dozen varieties are listed on the menu and on a handwritten display board. I tried most. These days, fancy restaurants charge $3 per oyster. I counted 18 different kinds at less than $2 apiece.

Local Treats

The best oysters were the least expensive, the local Long Island Blue Points at $1.65 each. I've never come across Blue Points as plump, fresh, briny and sweet as these.

Have them at a counter with a glass of draft beer. Maybe it was the power of suggestion, but I preferred the fruity Blue Point Pale Ale, also from Long Island.

Said a friend, ``It may be, aptly, that the only thing worth going to the Oyster Bar for are the oysters.''

It's transcendent, eating Blue Points at the Oyster Bar. Sometimes one great moment, among multitudes of disappointing ones, is enough.

The Bloomberg Questions

Cost? Prices range from $4.50 for the mixed green salad to $32.95 for the grilled sirloin steak.

Sound level? Not bad, and those Guastavino tiles aren't acoustical.

Date place? If you believe oysters are aphrodisiacs.

Tip? The wines by the glass are generally well chosen, and picking from those is better than haphazardly selecting a bottle.

Special feature? A near-secret wood-paneled staircase nobody ever uses leads down from the main floor of the terminal directly into the Saloon. It's across from Rite Aid.

Lunch? Yes.

Will I be back? Yes, and with a date. A man has to dream, doesn't he?

Grand Central Oyster Bar & Restaurant is on the lower level of Grand Central Terminal at 42nd Street and Vanderbilt Avenue. Information: +1-212-490-6650 or http://www.oysterbarny.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 31, 2007 00:18 EST