Hello, Dahling

Write about restaurants in San Francisco for any length of time and a couple of things start to happen. For one, you put on the pounds. (Disclaimer: This may not be true for other food writers; sadly, I am not one who can sample merely a forkful.) For another, though there are an estimated 3,500 places to eat in the city, you (and by you, I mean jaded, cynical me) frequently find yourself unable to come up with a single one that sounds new and interesting -- even if it is, in fact, new, and all reports indicate that it's interesting.

But then every once in a while you get blindsided, and suddenly the town is alive again with possibilities. So hip, hip, hurray for Tallula (4230 18th St., 437-6722, www.tallulasf.com) for that gift.

As opposed to restaurants that shout their presence from the rooftops, Tallula is the kind of place you could walk right past -- a few times -- before the tantalizing smell of tandoori and simmering garam masala pulls you in like a come-hither look from a scented belly dancer. The belly dancer in this case was not a figment of my olfactory imagination, but a scene from a Bollywood movie that was being projected on the curtain in the front window. Way cool. I searched for the door and found it at the end of a walkway covered by an awning made of interconnected, open umbrellas. Way, way cool. Inside, I was ushered into a breadbox-size lounge and bar to wait for my friends. A piano player with a shaved head and black safety glasses twirled out jazzy riffs while I sipped a sake cocktail at a candlelit table and gazed into the kohl-etched eyes of the screen dancer. (If you do nothing else, read the enigmatic cocktail menu, which describes drinks via the channeled voice of '30s and '40s actress Tallulah Bankhead, the restaurant's inspiration. The Cleo: "Flying in from India with cherries in her beak, whispering, 'Tamarind, where are you?'" The Pomeranian: "Daisy is inviting her friend. Yappy little bitch.")

I hadn't even gotten to the menu, and already the pants were being charmed right off me.

After my party arrived, we were spirited up a spiral staircase into a warren of saffron- and turmeric-colored jewel box rooms, each with its own delightful, stylistic surprises. Ours had wooden benches, mother-of-pearl discs swaying from the ceiling, and a private, petite wrought-iron balcony. Very Interview With a Vampire.

Segue to dinner. The menu is Indian, but not curry-house Indian. Indian by way of France and California, brimming with complex seasonings that make you want to sneak into the kitchen and sniff the spice jars. Flavors seem vaguely familiar, but then are applied to dishes you wouldn't expect. Take the seviche. So many fusion restaurants do variations on seviche that almost no combination surprises me. But Tallula's rendering -- buttery tilapia marinated in lime juice, cilantro, and green chilies, finished with coconut milk and served in a spicy-crisp pappadam bowl -- is fun and original, with clean, bright flavors that prep your palate for the barrage of small plates to follow. There are many to swoon over, but if I had to name one, it would be the watermelon radish, jicama, kohlrabi, and sprouted mung-bean dhosa, which in this version is more like a French crepe than a crispy pancake, infused with fenugreek and dal and topped with kicky roasted-tomato saffron sauce.

"It's a dish that grabs you by the back of the head and gives you a scalp massage," says owner/chef Harveen Khera. At Tallula, that seems completely within the realm of possibility.