eat. drink. (you know the rest.)

PINOT HOLLYWOOD was always the ugly duckling in the fleet of restaurants belonging to the Patina Group, but, at least in the early years, the food was decent. And pristine oysters on the half shell, well-crafted martinis and skinny fries showered with parsley and garlic were compelling enough to draw a crowd for a bite after a film or a play. Recently, though, under a succession of clueless chefs, the Hollywood bistro slipped out of mind. It still did a decent lunch business simply because it's adjacent to Sunset Gower Studios, but given the increasing competition in Hollywood, the dining room often languished half empty at night.

Late last year, Joachim Splichal, who heads the Patina Group, closed the restaurant for renovation. I'd heard he was planning something radically different from the Pinots' California-French model, something Asian or otherwise exotic. But in the end, he settled for a minor, but very effective, makeover and an enthusiastic young chef with his own spin on American cuisine. He also renamed the place eat. on sunset, the dot, I suppose, meant to signal the restaurant as someplace that would appeal to the text messaging generation.

The old decor was a bit fussy and dated but there was an inviting lounge at the back (one of the city's first martini bars) and a large enclosed patio up front. At the time, the patio didn't seem like such a tremendous asset. Now, restaurants with outdoor spaces are in high demand as L.A. finally learns to celebrate its weather (and as smokers seek a venue, like a patio, where it's still legal to indulge).

Taking a page from mod hotels, the designers have sexed up the new restaurant by dotting daybeds, in discreet pairs, around the perimeter. Candles flicker in the darkness -- would anybody under 30 be caught dead in a restaurant that didn't feature fire in some form, and candles? -- creating a serene, contemporary haven. Less enthralling is the shower-curtain effect on the patio, where, while it's still winter, industrial heaters blow hot air through the wrapped-up space.

The restaurant's palette is more subdued; etched glass panels that divided the dining room from the rest of the space have been replaced with frosted glass backlit with colored lights, seeping color into the room. The huge skylight, which could be glaring on a bright day, is cleverly shaded with a screen that slices the light into tiny shapes. The effect is dappled, like sunlight through trees. And at night, two glowing orbs -- lampshades that look like huge string balls -- preside overhead like twin moons.