Common? C'Mon!

Murray Wasserman isn't Portuguese. Fortunately for Luzia's, Luzia is. "The romance of a century" between the New Yorker and the Iberian produced a labor of love that sits unassumingly on Amsterdam between 80th and 81st Streets, waiting for a steady flow of regulars and newcomers. For ten years, Murray has helped carry his wife Luzia's creations from the kitchen throughout the small dining room. He seems to enjoy working the crowd while he's at it. Murray is about as far from a typical New York restaurateur as Portugal is from Port Authority, and for that matter, Luzia's doesn't have any of the hang-ups that make many Upper West Side restaurants feel like bad imitations of their trendier downtown brethren.

The interior of Luzia's is a lot more genuine with a lot less effort than its neighbor and Southern import, Brother Jimmy's. Exposed brick lines one wall and the other is painted a confident marigold. Traditional painted plates and talieros, Portuguese roof tiles, adorn the walls. Two tourist-bureau-style posters make one corner feel like a travel agency, but that blemish is forgivable. Smells waft out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and out the door. "The terrace" at Luzia's is comprised of a handful of round tables under umbrellas. The combination of their wobbliness and early-evening noise from the avenue make eating inside a better bet, especially this time of year.

Luzia's food is very "common," according to Murray. That sounds like a red flag for any restaurant, but he is referring to its authenticity rather than its quality. For the American palate, the food is anything but. We began with the Tapas Platter ($19.95). I am increasingly fond of "the platter" as a medium for my first course. It seems to offset the familiar trade-off of size for intricacy, and provides an early litmus test for a date: Is she adventurous enough to try it? Does she have preferences that compliment my own?

This particular platter was full of flavor, much of which came from the sides of tartar sauce, spicy mustard, and Luzia's not-too-hot sauce. While the appetizers--chicken empanadas, chorizo, shrimp turnovers, white bean salad, olives, and refreshingly un-breaded calamari--could stand alone, they seemed to be based more on their textures, allowing the sauces do some of the work. In a world without platters, the chorizo, with the curing power of its cured goodness, is probably the way to go. The sardines, on the other hand, tasted too much like sardines to please someone not accustomed to the fishy fish.

Each of our entrées was enough food to share after the potent platter, but being professionals, we pushed ourselves to the finish line. The Cataplana Portuguesa ($16.95), named for the clam-shaped pot it's cooked in, offered up a generous portion of marinated pork, which was not white meat by any stretch of the imagination, as well as actual clams and potatoes that absorbed the spiced oil beneath. A pinch of practical parsley praised all parts.

Luzia's Paella ($22.95) went light on the saffron so commonly associated with the Spanish version of the dish. Without a yellowish tint to the rice, the seafood, including a sizable side of lobster, spoke for itself.

Throughout the course of the meal, Murray won our affections with glasses of red and white wine to compliment different dishes. All of them were from Portugal, most made with indigenous grapes. Apparently, the Portuguese are proud of their wine, and after a having a few glasses, I think they have reason to be. The ten-year old tawny Port, matured in wood, made for a particularly strong finish. It had the help of Pastel Denata, a warm, soft custard cake to cap off an excellent meal.

In ten more years, when the Tasti-D-Lite across the street is all but forgotten, Luzia's will likely still be there, serving up uncommon common food for the benefit of anyone lucky enough to stroll past or get kicked out of Brother Jimmy's.