Pearls of the menu at Ama Ama: oysters, clams — and lamb

Add "diving for food" to the list of women's work, at least in Japan, where harvesting shellfish has been a traditionally female occupation for the better part of 2,000 years. Called amas, these intrepid women of the sea scavenge the chilly ocean depths with masks but no diving tanks, though they have in modern times traded their skimpy white cotton tops and shorts for neoprene and thermal garments.

By dubbing their new West Seattle oyster bar and grill Ama Ama, owners Paige Crandall and Rob Coburn salute these legendary women. The name is especially apropos given the many Asian accents on the seafood-focused bill of fare.

Ama Ama replaced Ovio Bistro, whose nearly five-year run ended last summer to the dismay of its many admirers. Thus, it is probably wise that Crandall and Coburn have not only chosen a different culinary direction, but also engineered a handsome remodel that leaves little reminder of its previous occupant.

Zebra-striped upholstery in the lounge gets your attention right inside the front door. So does a wall of sunburst clocks. "You must have gotten that from my mother?" one customer joshed. "Only if she sold it on eBay," was the host's (no doubt oft-repeated) rejoinder.

The clocks; the animal prints; the walls of jagged, pale, stacked stones all reference the subdued elegance of the 1950s. A long bar, capacious booths and a cozy five-seat oyster bar contribute a Rat Pack rakishness, as do cocktails with names like "Viva Las Vegas" and "Weekend In Paris."

One thing Ama Ama has carried over from its predecessor is chef Brenda Rodriguez, a transplanted Texan whose résumé includes stints at Flying Fish and Fandango, and who was heading Ovio's kitchen when it closed.

The menu leads, not surprisingly, with oysters, which are impeccably handled, whether served raw or fried. (During happy hour and after 10 p.m., you can slurp them raw for just 50 cents each.) On the half shell, they come with a sassy ginger-sake-shallot dipping sauce, and though I tend to like my oysters au naturel, this mildly acidic sauce is far friendlier to the bivalves' briny, mineral tang than most.

Fried oysters — their fat bellies ensconced in crisp, golden panko crumbs — are also wonderful. There's a hint of caraway in the slaw. Lots of capers and a bit of lemon peel make for a particularly thick and zesty tartar sauce. You can order this ensemble on a plate, or as a po'boy slider stuffed into a petite brioche bun. (You can also have these crispy sea critters on a salad or, for the very reckless, with mushroom mac and cheese.)

The brioche buns come from Bakery Nouveau across the street, which also supplies the terrific desserts, not to mention the fine, crusty baguettes that are integral to the plating of just about anything saucy or soupy: Steamed clams, sautéed calamari and chowder each arrive with a generous hunk of bread.

Clam was the chowder du jour on one visit. The buttery white potage had a bit of smoke, a touch of herb and plenty of clams among the potatoes. True clam diggers will prefer a bowl of steamed Manila clams, plump and pristine in a salty, cream-kissed broth emphatically dosed with Pernod. Steer clear of the calamari, sautéed with garlic, olives, capers and tomato, but way too rubbery.

You'll find these three among "small plate and bites," along with a phenomenal seared sea scallop bedded on a parsnip and Parmesan pancake. A nosegay of tiny oyster mushrooms and cream sauce flecked with fresh tarragon enhanced the sweet, nutty flavor of the dish.

Seafood entrees weren't quite as successful. A lovely fillet of Alaskan black cod glazed with oyster sauce becomes far too unctuous and cloying in combination with a gluey purée of butternut squash, satsuma and potato. A side of gai lan injects some bitterness and bite, but it's not enough to buck the excess of slippery, slick and sweet.

Crispy monkfish is also undermined by its mates. The firm chunks of fish — dunked in buttermilk, floured and fried like chicken — are delicious but don't stand a chance of keeping their crunch mired in curry-spiked mashed potatoes and buried under a cilantro-and-bean-sprout salad. Long beans wrap the potatoes like railroad ties rimming a garden bed and are almost as hard and tasteless as wood.

Too often the kitchen reaches for the wow factor, and the integrity of the dish suffers. Salt cod cakes are another example. You can taste ginger, garlic, cilantro and green onion in abundance, but there is very little salt cod flavor in this eggy pancake, and the last thing this small plate needs is two sauces — one a sweet coconut curry, the other a light cardamom-edged tomato sauce.

Oddly enough in a restaurant devoted to seafood, lamb sliders rank among the best bites of any size. Assertively seasoned and spiced, each pudgy patty is smothered in Muenster with a dab of grainy mustard tucked under its brioche cloche. They come in a pair flanking a tower of golden onion rings, great but for an excess of dried herbs in their brittle casings. (There is also a fine steak slider with caramelized onion and horseradish aioli.) Sliders are just $3 each during happy hour

Barely six months old, Ama Ama has some maturing to do, both in the kitchen and among servers who haven't nailed the finer points of pacing a meal. But they are a likable crew, just as Ama Ama is an agreeable restaurant that may in time become as much a fixture in West Seattle as Ovio.

Providence Cicero: providencecicero@aol.com