PEAK PERFORMANCE

It took us a half hour to get our menus, another half hour for our appetizers to arrive. (To the staff's credit, we got several unsolicited apologies.) These things happen, but I got the feeling this wasn't an aberration. After we placed our orders, including an appetizer each, the waitress practically scolded us for not sampling the soup or salad. She extolled the new chef's virtues at such length that I began to suspect he'd hired a dependent relative. And the correct response to a customer's complaint about undercooked fish is, "Let me take it back for you." 8700 is a sophisticated, big-time place. So cut the chitchat, improve the pacing and let the food do the talking. It's worth listening to. The Vistas at Oaxaca, 8711 East Pinnacle Peak Road, Scottsdale, 998-2222. Hours: Sunday through Thursday, 5:30 to 10 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 5:30 to 11 p.m.

Comfortable in our Pinnacle Peak orbit, we put in a stop at the Vistas at Oaxaca, across the street from 8700. Formerly called Oaxaca, this decade-old place changed its name to clear up any kind of confusion about the kind of food it offers.

The fare is strictly all-American, deliberately geared to local tastes.
It certainly has an all-American view. Patio diners and those with window seats look out over spectacular desert scenery. Inside, a pitched wood-beam ceiling shelters most of the dining area, while the decor liberally mixes Native American and Mexican prints and artifacts.

Since no one is going to be wowed by culinary imagination here, Vistas must maintain its appeal by serving up better versions of the familiar.

I put aside my prejudices against appetizer selections that must date back to Egypt's Middle Kingdom. Even Senusret III and his ministers probably got tired of wings and potato skins. But I'm sure they'd agree that Vistas does a very creditable job with fried zucchini, mushrooms and cauliflower. The homemade batter was light enough to let us taste the veggies and too good to spoil with a dubious dip that tasted suspiciously like tartar sauce.

Dinners come with soup or salad. Stick to the soup. The salad was the same mix my parents got in the Fifties: iceberg lettuce, one cherry tomato, two slices of cucumber and grated carrot. The Roquefort dressing was too thin and cost an extra buck. The clam chowder, though, was thick without being starchy and generously crammed with clams and potatoes.

The main dishes continued this hit-and-miss quality. I had the prime rib and seafood combo, a 10-ounce slab with shrimp scampi. The pink meat looked great on the plate, but was a bit tough and stringy where it counted. The shrimp were better, but not enough to make me want to drive up there again.

The platter came with some salty seasoned rice and a deliciously simple mix of lightly buttered mixed vegetables: cauliflower, broccoli, carrots and bok choy. Bok choy? How'd the chef slip that in?

On the other hand, the barbecued duck made me proud to be an American. The half-duck was surprisingly greaseless and meaty, with a wonderful, pungent, he-man barbecue sauce. It came with an excellent twice-baked potato--baked potato with the potato scooped out, mashed and seasoned, put back in and baked. The same great veggies also accompanied it. For this dish, I'd return in a minute.

By dessert time, I felt like a contestant on Let's Make a Deal. Would I get the new refrigerator or a year's supply of Kool-Aid? The lady or the tiger? The jackpot lay behind Door No. 1, and I found it. The homemade caramel custard--no foreign words on this menu--was so good my wife almost had to summon the paramedics to revive me, after she got in a few spoonfuls of her own. This is what heaven must taste like.

But her cheesecake was strictly routine and resistible, from its graham-cracker crust to its less-than-cheesy interior.

Vistas' erratic quality makes it a tough place for even an Isaac Newton to figure out. In the meantime, stick with Seftel's First Law of Restaurant Dynamics: Grab a window seat and hope for the best.

DESPERATELY SEEKING SASQUATCH THESE SCIE... v8-26-92