On July 27, Mr. Della Femina’s column announced, with an uncertain degree of seriousness, that he would begin racial profiling at his Hamptons restaurant, Della Femina. “Should anything untoward happen on our restaurant premises,” he wrote, “the Muslim perpetrator will be buried with one of my great Chef’s Michael Rozzi’s pork chops in his mouth.”

Later in the same piece, Mr. Della Femina went on to assert that Richard Parsons, the C.E.O. of Time Warner Cable, “must be arrested by the Feds, tortured, and executed.”

Still, the bull in a china shop isn’t too proud to make amends when he thinks he’s gone too far. When the Independent got in trouble with advertisers a few years ago for running an offensive headline about “gays,” Mr. Della Femina hired a gay of his own to pen a column for the paper. “We’re probably the only local weekly paper that has a gay columnist,” he told The Transom yesterday afternoon as he sat back on a couch in his new Flatiron office on Broadway.

What’d you do in the Hamptons this weekend? “Just stretched my arms around—didn’t do a thing. So-so weather weekend, but I also had to go to a wedding in Rumson, N.J., so I had to drive from East Hampton to Rumson and back to East Hampton, so I took Monday off.”

How’s your newspaper going? “It’s been great. It’s making money! We’re sort of killing the East Hampton Star. But we have an interesting concept, which is different than anything that’s been done in local newspapers—and our concept is simply that we’re going to do a tabloid front page. It’s a giveaway, so what you’re asking the reader to do is bend down and pick it up.”

A reporter named “Keith” from the New York Post interrupted on Mr. Della Femina’s cell phone. Some 30 seconds later:

What will this week’s column be about? “This week’s was about profiling. Racial profiling.”

You did a piece on that before, right? “Yeah, the week before I did that, and the next week I did one on my birthday. And then this one is really based on the head of the [New York chapter of the] ACLU, and the headline is ‘Why Is Donna Lieberman Trying to Get Me Killed?’ I think it’s good, because it’s important. I think it’s horrible that we are not profiling those people and instead stopping 80-year-old women getting on subways and checking them out. That’s meaningless in the long run. You can’t do anything, if you have a limited number of people, if you’re checking everybody. They stopped my grandson at the airport, and they took away his little spoon that was made of metal. His metal spoon—come on! The concept that this kid at the age of 4 was a terrorist, you know …. ”

What was the reaction to the first profiling column, “Guaranteed to Offend Everyone”? “It did. Hahaha! It did. I get people who send me e-mails—some of them are vile, I must admit. ‘You call yourself a writer,’ the whole thing. I rarely, rarely answer them—I just answer all the good ones. My reaction is always: ‘You know, the newspaper’s free. So it’s not that you could feel that you bought it and got cheated. You bent over and picked it up …. I have no obligation to you; I owe you nothing. I owe you nothing. If you don’t think it’s funny, well, I don’t owe you to be funny. If you think it’s politically wrong, you know, I owe nothing’—and that’s a good place to be. I try to be funny, and every once in a while the paper does something that’s really meaningful in that it helps someone …. It’s really trying to become the New York Post of giveaways.”

And what’s the new profiling column about? “The new one is really just an update on the first. It brings in the ACLU; it takes a swipe at liberal Democrats because it just seemed like fun to do. And also, the fact that I’m a Republican drives people crazy—just drives them nuts. Most of the mail comes in, and people are just frothing at the mouth.”

Have any Muslims come into your restaurant since the column came out? “No, we haven’t seen any. I think I’ve lost the Muslim group. Hahaha!”

Was that a big group? “I don’t even know …. They don’t drink—they can’t come in with their wives. If their wives come in, their arms are covered. It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s the wrong group of people.”

You had a line in there about how they should be checking people on the buses. Have you been worried when you’re on those? “I’m worried when members of my family are on there.”

Do you think the Hamptons Jitney or Luxury Liner buses would actually be a target? “Well, they bombed buses in London. Why don’t [the terrorists] say, ‘Jeez, this is even easier, because they don’t check that well?’ A lot of writing it that way was to make sure they started to check.”

Have they? “I don’t know. I don’t know the answer to that. What’s good about it is that this column …. I get a lot of people reading it, and without exaggeration, I’ll be driving along on the street and a guy in a truck will lean his head out and say, ‘Give ’em hell!’ We reach the most powerful people out there. And I also deliver my column to 10121, which is down Park Avenue. If this was a local paper in Huntington, it would be foolish to run things like that—nothing against Huntington, it’s just that nobody’s gonna change anything.”

A lot of your columns endorse pragmatism, and at the same time you take issue with the government interfering with people’s private lives. Where do you think those two impulses come from? “I grew up in Brooklyn, N.Y., and I’m a great believer that you can’t have too conservative a President nor too liberal a Supreme Court. So I’m a walking contradiction. I believe that you should try to really protect people’s rights in every way, and also people should be allowed to do what they do. I mean, I don’t know if I’m a libertarian or an anarchist. I’m sort of a Reform Republican versus Orthodox. You can be anti-government—you can be a lot of things. You just can’t be in some mosque in Union City, N.J., telling guys to go out and blow us up and expect us to continue to let you do it.”

Have you ever held any political office? “No. I ran for political office in the Hamptons once, in a war I was having with the village. I came in, there were four people running, and I came in around third. It was over my food market—they arrested me. I just wanted to go for office because I thought it would be an interesting to do.”

What did you run for? “I ran for, uh … what was my office? This is terrible. Not only can I not remember the election, I can’t even remember which office I ran for. I ran for one of the village, uh … what’s the description? There’s the mayor and there’s the …. It’s a village-trustee kind of thing; they have about 10 of them. Something like that. The Maidstone—which is sort of the old-line WASP bastion—they got more votes out against me than anyone in the entire town.”

What did you learn from the Dunehampton secession incident and its aftermath? “Well, they’re still voting on this thing! It’s not over. Apparently, now Sagaponack may separate, and there’s a vote on this.”

When’s the vote? “I don’t know. My editor would know. I think rich people as revolutionaries is funny. I think a lot of the things about the Hamptons and the people are out there, it’s … it’s a good place to do a humor column.”

Weren’t you one of the people campaigning for Dunehampton? “I was campaigning for them. But I wouldn’t be affected by it, since I’m in East Hampton. I was campaigning for them because I thought it was funny …. I wrote a column about how they would march on the Candy Kitchen, which is a local luncheonette. To me, it was less about how I felt about Dunehampton and more about how I was desperate to get out a funny column.”

Would you ever run for public office again? “I live in New York City, which is always a problem. If I could rule on the Internet, it would be fine. So many people think that because of the column and because of the restaurant, they think I live there. I have potential clients coming to me and saying, ‘Aren’t you at the restaurant?’ ‘Yeah, I’m in there stirring tomato sauce’—no! I go there as a guest.”

Would you consider going for political office anywhere—in New York City, for example? “That would be more interesting. Sure, sure.”

Any idea what kind of position it would be? “No, I don’t. I just know that it would have to be a position where they wouldn’t go back to my past record in any way. I can’t handle any scrutiny!”

We’re aware that you’re a fan of Mr. Bloomberg, but if you were named Mayor for a day, what would you do? “In that day, I would change the profiling at the subways. No. 1.”

How exactly would you formulate that law? “Oh, I’d be a dictator for a day! Uh, basically, the law would include that those people who in the past have been the perpetrators of acts of terrorism would be those that would be first checked. Again, I think that 99 percent of the Muslims would want them to be checked, too. They’re just as terrified of these idiots as I am. I don’t know anybody who is Muslim who frankly should object.”

If you could run for Senate in New York, how would you run a campaign against Hillary Clinton? “I dunno—I think Hillary Clinton’s done a great job. I’m very impressed with her. She’s done well, and frankly, if she should be running against Bill Frist, she’s got my Republican vote.”

As The Transom gathered its things, it felt strangely at ease. In fact, Mr. Della Femina had been completely winning. Plush Sesame Street toys were strewn on the couch—an adorable Bert and Ernie set, upon which Mr. Della Femina had thrown his red tie after our arrival. Family pictures adorned his shelf. A commendation from The Wall Street Journal; a cabinet full of fine wine. This was not the office of a raving lunatic. This shit was Presidential.

—Leon Neyfakh

Ramsey At Rest On Monday, Aug. 8, an Iraqi judge ruled that Saddam Hussein would be tried within two months. And Mr. Hussein’s eldest daughter dissolved his legal team, effectively showing his highest-profile U.S. advocate, Ramsey Clark, the door.

“He’s got a lot of work to do, and they’d better get started,” said the former U.S. Attorney General from his Greenwich Village apartment, already sounding a little detached. His favorite Beethoven piano sonata, the “Pastoral,” tinkled in the background. “He’s got to have a large team, and it’s got to be predominately Iraqi and Arabic speaking.”

He had received word earlier that day that his services would no longer be needed through a statement from the daughter, Raghad, via “fax or e-mail—it could have been both,” he said. Its relevance left him puzzled.

“It has no application by its own terms to me in any way. I’ve never received powers of legal representation,” he explained. “What has just been issued is a statement that the only lawyer the family is recognizing at this time to speak for Saddam Hussein is Khalil al-Dulaimi,” Mr. Clark added, drawling on the name. But: “No one else could speak for him, because no one else could speak to him. How can you speak for someone who can’t speak to you? Do you just make it up? Do you understand?”

He said that Mr. al-Dulaimi has met with Mr. Hussein “about four times.”

Mr. Clark continued: “I think he trusts Khalil al-Dulaimi—and I do—but that doesn’t begin to reach the level of choice of counsel or preparation of a defense. The court’s bragged about going to two million documents and the 17,000 individual interviews, and the defense hasn’t been given a single document. How can you begin to interview witnesses until you’ve developed a strategy about a defense, and talked to the president and been appointed by the president, and have the resources and security to function in Iraq without getting killed?”

Had he not been a member of the reportedly 2,000-lawyer-strong team ready to wield their knowledge of case law and international treaties in defense of the deposed Iraqi leader?

“What you had are apparently several thousand lawyers—I don’t know—who expressed the desire to help,” Mr. Clark replied. He said he hadn’t been a member of the official legal coalition, Isnad (Arabic for “support”).

“I’m supportive of what they’re trying to do, which is to see that there are fair trials for the accused of Iraq, because I think it’s of historic importance,” he said, adding that he could have advised on topics such as international law. “I don’t think I can represent him in any meaningful sense. I mean, you’ve been around long enough to know that I can’t walk into a strange court, a strange language and a strange culture, and stand up and start talking in English and make any sense to anybody.”

Finally, Mr. Clark dismissed a claim by a former Hussein lawyer, Ziad al-Khasawneh, that Americans had been urging the Arab lawyers not to publicly express their criticism of the war and sympathy with the resistance, for fear that it might hurt their case.

“Of course it’s not true,” he sniffed. “You live in this country—if you’ve watched the peace movement, you know I’m one of the leaders in bringing the troops out now, immediately. Everything I’ve ever written has said the American troops have to be withdrawn immediately. That they were there by virtue of a crime, a war of aggression, and there has to be reparations for the damage they’ve done.”

—Anna Schneider-Mayerson

Real quickly, then on to the show. In today's paper:

The Transom sits down with Jerry Della Femina and encourages him to run for office. Any office. Also: how's it feel for Ramsey Clark to be 'fired' as Saddam Hussein's lawyer?

Don't miss Nina Roberts on the free sex doctor of the Upper West Side.

Lizzy Ratner gets under the skin of The Transom's old acquaintance, former art writer Steven Vincent, the first U.S. journalist murdered in Iraq.

And of course, George Gurley's couples therapy continues apace. The Transom shares an office with Mr. Gurley, in fact, and is considering asking for some equal time with Mr. Gurley's good and patient doctor.

In the premiere episode of the third season, Meadow's eccentric freshman roommate (do they make them any other way?) came home tanked and yammering about her night at Ruby Foo's. Stephen Hanson, owner of BR Guest Inc., the corporation that operates the two enormous Pan-Asian eateries (in Times Square and on the Upper West side) that go by that name, said he was "pleasantly surprised" by the nod, which he found out about while watching the premiere, along with the rest of America, on March 4.

Mr. Hanson is no stranger to having his restaurants name-dropped in television series. Another of his restaurants, Isabella's, figured into the plot of an episode of Seinfeld .

"It's an honor just to be included," he added, noting that he didn't even mind having the name of his place invoked by a sloshed coed in The Sopranos . "It's just entertainment. It's fun."

Mario Batali thought it was fun, too, when–during the episode that ran on March 11–Soprano mama Carmela brought a plate to the table and announced that "these are Mario Batali's string beans with Parmesan." The Food Network hottie and co-owner of Babbo, Esca and Italian Wine Merchants said: "I was actually watching it, and I wasn't expecting it."

Mrs. Soprano must know someone in Babbo's kitchen. Although Mr. Batali's signature bean dish is on the restaurant's menu, it is not in either of the two cookbooks that Mr. Batali has published. But the chef said that the recipe will appear in his forthcoming Babbo cookbook, which he handed to his publisher two weeks ago.

At press time, HBO had no answer as to how these restaurants got inserted into Sopranos scripts, but a spokeswoman for Mr. Batali said that the series creator, David Chase, as well as two of its stars, James Gandolfini and Steven Van Zandt, have dined at the restaurant. Mr. Hanson said he didn't know if Ruby Foo's had hosted any of the Bada-Bing crowd. But don't be surprised if Tony Soprano takes a sit-down at the Four Seasons restaurant with one of the Manhattan mob bosses sometime soon; Mr. Gandolfini is an in-law of Four Seasons co-general manager Alex von Bidder.

So, now everyone can shut up about the time that Carrie and her posse went to the Helena Rubenstein Beauty Gallery on an episode of Sex and the City . The Sopranos are coming, and they're hungry.

–Rebecca Traister

French Cinema's New Vague

While some consider cultural pride to be France's biggest export, it was in strangely short supply at the opening cocktail party for the annual Rendez-Vous with French Cinema series on March 12. Francophiles sampled canapés beneath the chandeliers at the French Consulate, discussing the 13 films that will be shown at the Walter Reade Theater over the coming weeks and thoughtfully reflecting on the state of French cinema with a few of the films' directors.

Instead of being a salute to the country's cinematic superiority, the evening was all cute self-deprecation and endearing humility. "Thank you to all of us to support French's cinema's … euh … market?" hesitated Daniel Toscan du Plantier, the president of Unifrance, France's film export agency. "No, there is no market here. French cinema's prestige ! To support French cinema's prestige!"

An unexpected punch line to an unexpectedly short speech, given that Mr. Toscan du Plantier–a household name in French film and a Cannes festival regular–is usually much more flamboyant. What, no panache? The Transom wondered. No superiority over les grosses machines d'Hollywood ? "Oh, the American market is a fantasme ," Mr. Toscan du Plantier said jovially in French. "We don't have any illusions. It's not even a dream, it's a nostalgia. The dream is impossible."

In the center of the main room, Daniel Auteuil, the diminutive French actor best known for his roles in Manon of the Spring and Jean de Florette , was busy accommodating the fantasme of his own New York fans. He posed for a picture, narrowly avoiding the hat brim of an enthusiastic admirer. He pocketed business cards and said with a nod, "I call you, I call you." He even tried a joke or two in approximate English, which The Transom feels, in the spirit of diplomacy, that it ought not to repeat.

But this kind of gawking was unusual for him, Mr. Auteuil emphasized. "Oh no, people never stop me in the streets here," he said in French. "Only French people sometimes. And once in a video club in Tucson." In New York to promote three films–Rendez-Vous' Sade as well as an upcoming film, The Hunchback, and the current The Widow of Saint-Pierre– Mr. Auteuil added with a chuckle, "These days, though, I've positively invaded New York!" A voice over the microphone interrupted him. "Daniel Auteuil!" the voice boomed. "Daniel Auteuil. Daniel? Daniel?" The blushing actor elbowed his way across the room and climbed onstage. "Hello, good evening," he said. All eyes turned toward him in anticipation. He blushed some more. "Do I need to add something?" he whispered in French.

– Elisabeth Franck

Poise in the 'Hood: Miss U.S.A. in N.Y.C.

In response to the final interview question posed by William Shatner, host of the Miss U.S.A. 2001 competition held on Friday, March 2, Kandace Krueger–the 24-year-old Texan who ended up taking home the crown–told Captain Kirk that "everything happens for a reason," and that she was confident that with determination, perseverance and discipline, she could achieve anything. The statement was a funny echo of George W. Bush's utterance on Dec. 13, when he was confirmed as President-elect. In his acceptance speech, Ms. Krueger's fellow Lone Star Stater also asserted his nebulous belief that, gosh darn it, "everything happens for a reason."

Five nights later, Ms. Krueger made her first official New York appearance at Spa on 13th Street. The soirée marked the unveiling of Anchors Aweigh , the painting created for the Muscular Dystrophy Association by Marco. "I don't feel any different," Ms. Krueger told The Transom when asked about her new title. "It feels great, although I don't think it's completely sunk in yet. I've been so busy, just running around like crazy ."

Ms. Krueger had just kicked off her media tour, which naturally requires a new wardrobe. So she'd spent that afternoon at Bloomie's and Bendel's. "I think there's a limit," the 5-foot-11 blonde said, speculating about her new spending allowance. She added that she hadn't yet discovered what it was. "I don't think I will," she said casually. "They just give me what I need. Yee-eaa-ahhh !"

Other event-goers hadn't quite figured out the reason behind everything, but they knew why they were there. "I was supposed to go to yoga, but then opted for the open bar and Run DMC," said a young man who identified himself as an advertising account manager, referring to the free vodka and rap performance that was scheduled to top off the evening. He then pointed to a nearby bin and asked The Transom, "Mind if I vomit in that trash can?"

Later, Ms. Krueger helped clarify the difference between the oft-confused Miss America and Miss U.S.A. pageants. "The main difference between the two circuits is that the Miss America pageant does have a talent competition and we do not," she explained thoughtfully. While Miss U.S.A. may not have talent, she has plenty of poise. To Ms. Krueger, that means "you can carry yourself with confidence and can carry yourself like you own the world"–something else she has in common with the new President.

But Ms. Krueger was unaware of all these similarities. When The Transom pointed out that Ms. Krueger's winning phrase had also appeared in another recent public address, she exclaimed, "I didn't know that!" and then took it to the next logical step. "Well, hopefully I'll have the opportunity to meet him, and we can talk about that," she said with perfect enunciation.

–Beth Broome

Jerry & Judy Love George

Late in the evening of March 12, adman and restaurateur Jerry Della Femina and his wife, Judy Licht, were riding the elevator at 555 Park Avenue. The couple had just left the dinner party hosted by economic and political consultant Anita Volz Wien and her investment-strategist husband, Byron Wien, at their apartment–one of 20 different dinners that had taken place in private homes around the city to benefit the Women's Campaign Fund.

The Wiens' meal had been prepared by Montrachet's chef, Harold Moore, and while the Della Feminas waited for the elevator to descend to street level, they discussed the night's menu. Mr. Della Femina had selected the salmon as his main course; Ms. Licht had opted for the duck and loved it, although maybe not as much as she loves her husband's way with canard . She began to sing the praises of her husband's cooking. "You wanna know how he gets the fat out of the duck?" she said.

The Transom hazarded a guess. The George Foreman grill?

Ms. Licht's eyes bulged. "You don't know what you're saying !" she shrieked. "The George Foreman grill! That's the center of our universe! We bought a ton of them one year and gave them out to everybody for Christmas."

Mr. Della Femina tried to speak, but Ms. Licht bigfooted him. "Someone gave him one; he thought it was a joke, but decided to give it a try just once," she went on.

"I cooked a hamburger on that thing," Mr. Della Femina finally managed, as the elevator reached the lobby where the concierge was handing out the guests' coats. "It was the best thing I'd ever had!" he exclaimed.

"We never use the oven any more," Ms. Licht raved.

"There are cobwebs on the oven!" Mr. Della Femina said, one-upping his wife, as they traded in the dry silence of the lobby for the joyous noise of Park Avenue.

–B.B.

It was obvious that my friend, a painter, is not one of those who either pass their summers in the Hamptons or spend much time in front of the television, since she had got this far in life without ever having heard of Jerry Della Femina. At that moment, the man who brought you the Ziploc talking fingers, the Meow Mix singing cats and Joe Isuzu, swept by our table, goatee bristling, his frame encased in a well-cut gray-beige summer suit, his distinctive head gleaming like a well-polished wooden doorknob. He looked preoccupied. Not only was his restaurant, now almost two months old, completely full, there was a large dinner party going on in a room at the back and it was exceedingly noisy.

Too noisy for us. My guests, who live downtown, were looking a bit dazed after trying to find a cab on Broome Street, which was filled with the noise of jackhammers. On Prince Street, a Con Ed electric generator (or something) had blown up, plunging our block into darkness, and when we left, two hook and ladder trucks were pouring water into the gaping hole. Now the four of us, instead of relaxing, had to shout across the table to be heard.

"How about a bottle of Sancerre?" my husband asked John, our waiter. The latter hesitated.

"I think the ladies will like this," he said, pointing to a Louis Latour Montagny. The ladies nodded enthusiastically. The wine turned out to be very good, at $38 one of the more modest choices on the list of mostly French and California vintages. The gentlemen liked it, too, although they reserved their highest praise for the Najola-Spencer zinfandel that we had with our main course.

On our way uptown I had been appalled to notice that my husband was not wearing socks. But when we got to the restaurant, many of the customers were not even wearing pants. They were in sandals and shorts, as if they'd just arrived on the Jitney. It's no coincidence though that Della Femina feels like a restaurant near the beach, since its eponymous owner has another place just like it in East Hampton, designed by the same architect, Frank Greenwald.

When you walk into the restaurant, a beautiful Eurasian-looking hostess greets you at the door and shows you down a few steps into a lounge that has a large mahogany and oak bar hung with Sardi's-style cartoons of various characters (including Mr. Della Femina's wife, TV newscaster Judy Licht). It leads into an airy, beige-carpeted dining room with pale walls, palm fronds, a ceiling made from dark strips of wood, and wall sconces that look as though they have been fashioned from sheaves of reeds. At one side are white painted windows that suggest the view beyond their filmy white curtains should be the ocean instead of a wall. On the other side is a rustic breakpoint, filled with Italian pottery.

Executive chef Kevin Penner, who ran the East Hampton branch, is now producing the same sort of boldly seasoned American food–mostly fish–on East 54th Street. His dishes are well thought out and interesting with a clarity of flavors that makes them exciting. He knows just how far to go and when to stop.

He also knows how to get the best out of a summer truffle. His risotto is made with perfect, creamy al dente grains tossed with asparagus, morels, black truffles and truffle oil. You could smell it from across the table. A special of the day, a thick veal chop with layered potatoes, summer truffles and cheese was also wonderful. The roast langoustines were a masterpiece–and not just because they were loaded with truffles. The balance of textures and flavors–porcini, fava beans, shaved potatoes, the moist subtle sweetness of the langoustines–was brought out by the intense lobster and truffle sauce, which had a hint of cognac.

A refreshing first course consisted of pieces of lobster in a small salad with mango, avocado and Sevruga caviar surrounded by dark green dots of basil vinaigrette. Also good was the large juicy diver scallop that had been seared and was served on diced beets with beet oil, balanced with a bright citrus-ginger vinaigrette. Tomato soup, with avocado, basil and lemon, was nicely spicy. I loved Mr. Penner's witty riff on fish sticks, which he made from Dover sole and served with a rémoulade sauce with caviar (so much nicer than tartar sauce in a little packet). He clearly loves cooking fish. Wild striped bass was marvelous, a thick snowy piece topped with a confit of plum tomatoes and served with a crisp potato onion cake and a sauce made with roasted garlic and scented with thyme. Roast turbot was also good, the delicate taste of the fish emphasized by a buttery veal jus and perfectly matched with peas, morels and tarragon (a nostalgic taste of spring).

For trenchermen, there was "cowboy" steak.

"I haven't had that since I was in New Mexico, where it was half the size of the table," said my friend's husband enthusiastically. "For New York, it sounds pretty ambitious." He went on to add that he and his wife were vegetarians–at home at least–where the reproving eye of their teenage children discouraged the consumption of meat. "Tonight, I'm having steak!"

The cowboy steak–actually a grilled rib eye on the bone–was not half the size of the table, but it was immense enough for him to take half of it home in a doggie bag. The steak was nicely charred, with good beefy taste, and a fine red wine shallot sauce. I don't think grilled asparagus was the best choice of vegetable with it (red wine and asparagus aren't great together) and the mashed potatoes with Roquefort were so-so. Grilled saddle of rabbit, cut off the bone in thin tender strips, was served with a quivering sweet corn custard and a ragout of bok choy that could have done with a little less bacon.

Apart from the gooey molten chocolate cake, desserts were not up to the rest of the meal. Financier with figs and chamomile ice cream was perfectly pleasant but tarte tatin with peaches was soggy. At the end of dinner, the waiter brought over some very good madeleine-like pastries topped with almonds.

All this, and we didn't have to spend one minute on the L.I.E.

Della Femina

* * 1/2

131 East 54th Street, between Park and Lexington

752-0111

Dress: Casual

Noise level: High

Wine list: Interesting, fairly high priced

Credit cards: All major

Price range: Lunch main courses $12 to $24; dinner $26 to $42

Lunch: Monday to Friday noon to 2:30 P.M. Dinner: Monday to Saturday 6 P.M. to 11 P.M. Closed Sunday

* Good

* * Very Good

* * * Excellent

* * * * Outstanding

No Star: Poor