May 9 (Bloomberg) -- From Jeffrey Chodorow, man of a million concepts, comes Wild Salmon, a steakhouse of the sea.

More precisely, a salmon house, in Manhattan's midtown east. You can have king, coho or sockeye seven different ways: poached, grilled, cedar-planked, seared, cooked in paper, smoked or as tartare. That's 20 choices -- there's no coho tartare, if you're questioning my math.

You'll love the wild king salmon, which lives up to its reputation. A waitress called it ``the mother of all salmons.'' Not a bad line.

There's much more. Other fish, none farm-raised, include black cod, halibut, ling cod and rockfish, each cooked every which way.

Want additional complications? How about 10 different sauces, salsas and compound butters to pour and/or slather on your entrees?

That gets us through the seafood specialties. We haven't gotten to starters or main courses yet.

The staff adds to the complexities. Everybody talks and talks, explaining way too much. You'll endure so many mandatory lectures your brain will feel kippered.

Here's the basic idea: Wild Salmon is intended to be a Pacific Northwest brasserie. All fish (and pretty much all meat and vegetables) are flown into Manhattan from out there. Local, it is not. As for sustainable, that remains to be seen. Quite a few of Chodorow's restaurants didn't last.

Corporate-Looking

The brownish, corporate-looking, high-ceilinged space a few blocks east of Grand Central Terminal was many things before it became Wild Salmon. Most recently it was English Is Italian, and before that Tuscan and Tuscan Steak.

I didn't eat in all of them. Who could, considering how quickly one became another?

If I were, say, the New York Times critic, I'd give Wild Salmon one star out of four. (Lose the sauces -- almost of them too thin, too thick, too fruity or too aggressive -- and my score goes up. The Oregon Blueberry Red Pepper Jalapeno Salsa is the culinary equivalent of dynamite tossed in a fish pond.)

I'm providing this rating service in case Frank Bruni is weary of Chodorow, who also operates Kobe Club. You might not know what went on between them. I'll summarize:

Bruni gave Kobe Club no stars. Chodorow, who is the mother of all restaurant entrepreneurs (China Grill, Asia de Cuba, Mix, dozens more), bought a full-page ad in the Times, excoriating Bruni. My favorite part was Chodorow's defense of the much- mocked samurai swords hanging blade-down from Kobe Club's ceiling.

Fake Fish

Wild Salmon has shimmering little faux-salmon, looking like swimming spermatozoa, hanging precariously from its ceiling.

Actually, they're cute. The rest of the place is about as exhilarating as sockeye in a can.

The recent switch from Italian to Northwest theme appears not to have inspired the decorator. Lamps glow a burnished copper-bronze, perhaps in homage to salmon. Booths are oversized. You'll hear a lot of ring-a-ding-ding jazz. One friend called the look ``space-age bachelor pad.''

En route to your table, the hostess will walk you past a display of fish on ice. She talks a lot, although she fails to explain why the fish glisten so. I asked her. She told me they'd been oiled. Maybe now you know why so few of us travel to Seattle to eat.

On another occasion, I came alone for the $26 lunch special, and the same hostess was close to tears. ``Just one?... Eating alone, are you?... All by yourself?'' By the time we got to the table, I had to admit to her (and to myself) that I was a loser.

Coho Interruptus

There are so many interruptions while you eat -- at least one per course to ask how everything is -- that you'll be desperate for solitude. On the other hand, a man eating next to me said, ``I used to come regularly when this was English Is Italian and the service was awful. I was ignored. And these are the same people.''

The man who makes the most sense is the sommelier. The wine list is clever, although the collection is not yet profound. Wines are listed by grape. First come bottles from the northwest, then bottles from elsewhere. If you see the 2006 Arneis from Ponzi ($52) -- grassy nose, melony fruit -- don't hesitate.

Desserts sound good but taste routine. Of particular fascination is the Baked Alaska Igloo. Standing next to a meringue-topped igloo is a chocolate figure that turns out, on close inspection, to be a petrified penguin, hard as an iceberg.

The chef is Charles Ramseyer, who was flown in, along with all that fish, from the West Coast. He worked at the well- regarded but never-venerated Ray's Boathouse in Seattle.

Oysters, Calamari

The raw bar is comprehensive and the Kumamoto oysters superb. The starters are especially satisfying. Don't miss the crunchy, tender Monterey Bay calamari (but don't let it near the accompanying lemon aioli) and the fresh, firm Penn Cove mussels in curry and coconut broth. A flawless duo of sockeye and king salmon tartares nicely illustrates the differences in the fish.

Dungeness crab and Oregon Bay shrimp come with mango bits in an appetizer large enough for two. Accompanying it is a tiny glass of fruit-and-tequila puree. Don't let it near the fish. I poured mine into a glass of prosecco. The resulting faux-Bellini was excellent.

Among the meat choices are short ribs made from washugyu beef, one of those meshugana American-style Kobe beef varieties. They were soft but tasteless, as though they'd been braised in water -- presumably from the Pacific.

Mostly, though, the restaurant is about salmon. You will learn a lot. The king salmon is creamy, fatty and luscious -- well worth the extra cost. The sockeye is reasonably flavorful, the coho boring.

Got Salmon?

The question is whether we care enough about salmon to want so much of it. Goodness knows, there's enough around already. A friend who eats no meat said to me, ``Too often I eat what I call penitential salmon -- it's on the wedding dinner menu or served as an option on the Caesar salad. I'm not sure we've developed a taste for the uber-salmon, the way we have for steak.''

There are other options, of course. Main courses include pan-seared Washington coast sand dab, a fish that sounds cute and crunchy but is actually large and untidy. I wasn't much impressed with the texture (mushy) or the preparation (salty).

I confirmed this impression when I went to the men's room.

It is the mirror-image of the women's room. The men's sink faces the women's sink. The partition between them has gaps on the ends, so you can see flickers of movement across from you.

That's how I met Tracy. We had a conversation as we washed up.

``What did you have?'' I asked.

``The sand dabs. They were a little salty.''

Terrific critic. I wish I'd asked her to lunch.

The Bloomberg Questions

Prices range from $11 for the Pacific N.W. Nuts & Berries Salad to $160 for the Mt. Rainier plateau of shellfish.

Sound Level: Very loud in center of the room -- Sinatra never sounded brassier -- but much quieter in the rear.

Date Place? Not for me, although I observed sporadic canoodling in those booths.

Inside Tip: Beware the elevator from restroom level up to the main floor. You'll find yourself in the coat closet: lost, disoriented, in need of a rescue team.

Special Feature: The flatbread with coarse salt, olive oil and a multitude of herbs is fabulous. You'll have to force yourself to stop munching.

Private Room: Yes.

Lunch: Yes, and the three-course, $26 special was one of my best meals.

Will I be back? For appetizers or lunch.

Wild Salmon is at 622 Third Ave., at 40th Street. Information: +1-212-404-1700; http://www.chinagrillmgt.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: May 9, 2007 15:42 EDT