A French-Japanese oasis springs up in Brookline

Maybe it's Pavlovian, but when we walk into Fugakyu, it's all we can do not to crave spicy tuna maki, yellowtail, a glistening seaweed salad, and a plate of crisp seafood tempura.

The little boats that tantalizingly circle the sushi bar, laden with strangely realistic imitations of sushi and sashimi, have something to do with this.

But mainly it's the vibe. This sprawling Japanese and Korean restaurant is so crowded on weekends that you can't stand anywhere without getting in the way. The bar pulsates with patrons slamming down pink concoctions and waiting for the host to alert them by beeper to take their tables. They're here for the rush of spending loads on sushi and sake, in a place that takes reservations for groups of 5 to 25.

They're not here on a Tuesday night, walking past the tantalizing bamboo-enclosed dining nooks, up a flight of stairs, past more screened rooms where people sit on tatami mats, up another flight of stairs, and through the looking glass to a new French-Japanese restaurant called Kawa. It's like "Lost in Translation" crossed with "Kill Bill Vol. 2," until we step inside the new oasis.

Suddenly, Coltrane-heavy jazz standards are playing, pale granite walls with perpetual waterfall effects are gurgling and splashing, and there's red, red, red, on the carpets, tablecloths, and napkins. It's all tastefully subdued, which you neither get nor want at Fugakyu.

Of course, any place that has been open a scant two weeks and requires a twisting sojourn to reach is going to struggle for a while to find its audience.

Sauce hates to miss the party, but it's 9:30 p.m. when we arrive, and the only other patrons here seem ready to leave. We can make out most of their conversation on the other side of the room. "She smokes like a chimney," one of the pair says to his friend. With more diners, the scene will be a lot more anonymous, even romantic.

The sea bass that our waiting friend has ordered rests on a large, white plate shaped like a painter's palette. Our Brazilian waiter points to a soy ginger paste, calling it "pasta," and trips adorably through the pronunciation of several other items. It's another "Lost in Translation" moment, and we try to guess if we could work at a French-Japanese restaurant with a menu in Portuguese. (Answer: definitely not.)

But he's got the enthusiasm of a kid brother as he takes our order: "You're the second person to order that combination!" he says with glee to the Saucier who orders smoked salmon followed by a toro steak appetizer (instead of an entr?e). Apparently we haven't given up on the notion of raw fish, even as we glare at a menu of poussin (small chicken), beef tenderloin, Tasmanian salmon, lamb chop, and soft-shell crab.

The tenderloin and soft-shell crab turn out to be show-stoppers, even if we have to talk one Saucier out of ordering the tenderloin medium-well. (After we school him about the dangers of "save for well done," chef-author Anthony Bourdain's description of what happens to old meat in some commercial kitchens, he orders it medium.) Thick slices of beef arrive medium-rare and succulent. A strawberry sauce drizzled on the plate is distractingly sweet, but the tastebud cultivation is a success.

The toro steak is another example of what too much heat can do to your expectations. Craving pink nuggets of fatty tuna, we get slabs of tuna cooked medium and drained of all life. Why list the tuna as sushi-grade if you're going to cook it?

A crisp, light coating gives the soft-shell crab a tempura-like texture, and it's positively bursting with juicy fresh-crab taste. We're reminded of the tempura downstairs, but we resolve to forget about Fugakyu for the time being.

The waiter is so attentive that we have to wave him away several times before submitting to the French-Japanese dessert list, with pairings such as hazelnut torte and rose ice cream. The nutty, fresh torte is first-rate; the ice cream tastes like our grandmother's perfume.

Not that Grandma could get anywhere near Kawa with all the steps she'd have to climb. But she'd appreciate the peace and quiet.

Kawa, 1280 Beacon St., Brookline. 617-383-6578.