[Chef Change] The Review: Red O

We all know the drill. This is the scenario that has played out at countless hot restaurants of the moment. Only it used to be dentists driving Hummers who pleaded to get inside, not cool kids driving a Tesla or Prius — or a Vespa.

In addition to the irritating treatment at the door, Red O exhibits all the trappings of this season's trendy restaurant: a trio of hosts to vet the guests, a romantic tropical décor, a tequila lounge and long-tressed babes by the yard.

It's different, though, in that there's no sushi bar, no agnolotti with white truffle oil, thin-crusted pizzas or fusion cuisine either. Red O is a Mexican restaurant, the first showcase outside Chicago for chef Rick Bayless' gutsy regional cuisine.

If you're unfamiliar with Bayless, suffice it to say that he's the best Mexican cuisine chef in the country, a favorite of President Obama's, invited to cook at the White House for the president of Mexico the week before Red O opened. Bayless, winner of Bravo's "Top Chef Masters," has three über-successful Chicago restaurants: Topolobampo, Frontera Grill and the new Xoco, plus his own PBS show. And, I almost forgot, he's the author of seven cookbooks and an obsessive Twitterer.

He's not Mexican, just someone who fell in love with Mexican cooking early on, the way Alice Waters fell in love with French cooking. He's spent big chunks of time in Mexico researching regional cuisine. And this geeky and driven American chef is probably more faithful to the cuisines of Mexico than many Mexican cooks in this country.

At Red O, the guacamole comes out unadorned, fresh and chunky, simply ripe avocadoes smashed and stirred together with lime and a little cilantro. The chips are golden and crisp and not a bit greasy, the salsas — either a lilting green tomatillo sauce or a complex, seductive guajillo salsa, wickedly balanced. I can't stop eating any of it.

To get started, he's assembled a beguiling collection of "bright bites" and "savory snacks." Mazatlán blue shrimp tostaditas layer sliced "chips" of raw jicama with a pungent roasted garlic mojo, grilled shrimp and avocado for a vibrant taste of Mexican seafood.

Ceviche comes five bites to an order, each a triangular chip piled with lime-drenched fish to pick up like an hors d'oeuvre. I liked the Pacific sole marinated in lime with olives, heat-emitting serrano chile, cooling jicama and a touch of unconventional sun-dried tomato. Others, though, can be a bit dull.

For the sopes, masa is pinched into miniature tartlets and topped with — well, all of them are pretty great, especially the shredded short rib with a roasted tomato salsa or the soft, sweet plantains with rich ivory crema.

Tamales fall in the category of snack too, and they're terrific. The dough is fluffy and suffused with corn flavor. You get three choices: Order all of them to share. It's tough to choose between the one with fresh sweet corn with creamy goat cheese and poblano chile, or the one with shredded short rib with smoky chipotle chiles. Or the chicken tamale napped with Bayless' intricate Oaxacan yellow mole on a banana leaf.

Bayless started his cooking career in Los Angeles but chose Chicago over L.A. when he was ready to open a restaurant, which was a big loss for us. I'm left wondering why now, why here for his first venture outside Chicago. He's had offers for years, even turned down Las Vegas. He's not an owner of Red O, more a creative consultant responsible for the overall culinary vision. The food is billed as "Rick Bayless' Mexican Cuisine" and he flies in at least once a month, sometimes more often, to tweak the dishes and consult with executive chef Michael Brown and sous chef Armando Martinez, both of whom spent some weeks training with Bayless at Frontera Grill's kitchen in Chicago.

However Bayless got here, it's a win for L.A. I don't know how he does it, but somehow he's imbued everyone in the kitchen with the ability to turn out faithful renditions of his signature dishes. Red O is more Frontera Grill than the more inventive and formal Topolobampo, with a few " California light" dishes thrown into the mix.

His classic tortilla soup is nothing like the thick sludge some kitchens serve. The broth is rich and clean, laced with moist shredded chicken, avocado, a dab of crema, and embellished with toasted pasilla negro chiles and a thatch of the skinniest tortilla strips.