We walk in out of the waning daylight into this vast and rather dimly lit restaurant designed to evoke a 1940s supper club. There are what seem like acres of beautiful butterscotch-colored leather banquettes; a fountain in front and a view of fountains and greenery in the back; a waitstaff all attired in black jackets; a formal but friendly greeting at the door.

Maybe it's the lack of cigarette smoke, crowds, and noise - films showing clubs of the '40s and '50s always have plenty of that, don't they? No smoke, thankfully, these days. But there's also not much bustle, not much sizzle, either. On its website, Max Stein's aims are lavish and glamorous. Inside, it's very quiet.

Nostalgia is a funny thing. We fondly remember the comfort food our grandmothers made. We wax eloquently about the restaurant where our parents were greeted enthusiastically by the maitre d' and where we tasted our first Shirley Temple. We can recall the smell of the leather and the scent of the cigars in that steakhouse on the way to the lake. But can those memories be re-created in a modern setting? And will they be exciting in real time?

Obviously, a lot of thought has gone into re-creating classics, from jumbo shrimp cocktail to clams casino to Delmonico steak and baked Alaska. More steaks were added because of customer demand, and the original plan to do tableside dining was abandoned. But still, the heavy leather-bound menu is expansive and the even lengthier wine list impressive, with plenty of range from reasonably priced to stratospheric. One evening, trying to match both fish and beef, we settle on a French pinot, Girardin Emotion de Terroirs 2002 ($45), which offers fruity but light tones, but at less expense than many California pinots these days.

In a phone conversation, co-owner Richard Brackett indicates the restaurant, which opened May 1, has had a slow start, and that's the way the food seemed to me, improving from one visit to the next. The chef is Peter Hoban, who previously was corporate chef for Not Your Average Joe's. On a first visit in July, good dishes stood out among miscues. Slices of rosy foie gras with a sweet sauce laced with Chambord liqueur are luxurious tastes to begin a meal. And mushrooms wrapped in strudel pastry are also good. But the leaves of spinach in a salad are too wet and the dressing too minimal. Crabmeat cocktail over crushed ice in a martini glass features a Mercedes sauce, according to the menu, but it tastes a lot like Russian dressing.

But the biggest disappointments come in the entrees. Maple-glazed pork tenderloin is overcooked, and ahi tuna steak with a tomato-cucumber salsa is dry. Accompanying steak fries are undercooked. Salmon with the same salsa fares better, and the dauphinoise potatoes, rich with milk and Gruyere, are delicious. Luckily, much care has been taken with Delmonico steak, its beefy flavor enhanced by an understated demi glace.

In fact, the classic sauces are little overdone on this menu and possibly overtax the cooking crew. Almost every cut of meat and fish comes with sauces, from green peppercorn brandy to Perigord (truffle-infused) to Calvados. A sirloin steak swims in its tomato-laced au poivre sauce, masking the taste of the meat. When it's kept simple, such as a white wine and butter sauce with fat scampi, capers, and linguine, the effect is much more pleasing. The shrimp get a boost from the acid in the sauce but retain their sweetness.

A second visit in late August shows better control of cooking times - from rack of lamb to baked haddock under a really retro crust of Ritz crackers. An appetizer of grilled vegetables - a colorful and bountiful presentation - has just the right amount of balsamic vinaigrette and a red pepper coulis. A tomato salad with goat cheese needs better fruit, indefensible in the harvest season, but the rest of the salad is balanced and appealing.

We're persuaded by our server one evening to indulge in the fried banana split, a gargantuan goblet of crunchy banana sections coated in crushed peanuts, ice cream, and chocolate sauce. It's certainly, as we were told, enough for four to share, and although it feels a little silly to be dipping long spoons into the gooey mixture, it's pretty irresistible. A Toll House cookie concoction - giant cookie covered with whipped cream and fudgy sauce - can't quite keep up with the split, though the sauce is good. But an individual apple pie, baked in a small deep-dish container, is quite delicious with great pastry and tender fruit. A well-made apple pie is always a good sign in a restaurant with American in its name.

Brackett remarks that the reservations are strong for this month, and though filling the place's almost 400 seats has to be a challenge, the cooking seems to be picking up along with the business. With a little more consistency and some sauce editing, maybe the sizzle inside will match the website's promised glamour.