After a few hours of gentle rain, a couple of cold beers and the heartfelt moans of zydeco music pulsing in your brain, it's amazing how closely Fort Lauderdale's Himmarshee District begins to resemble the misty Louisiana Bayou. At the New Orleans-style Creolina's they even provide the obligatory alligator.

Back in July, when the nation was celebrating its 225th birthday, Creolina's was celebrating its 10th. At a time when restaurants are withering faster than a creamy white magnolia on a blistering summer's day, Creolina's has endured. No doubt location is one factor -- it's across from the popular Himmarshee Bar and Grill and other popular spots on Southwest Second Street in downtown Fort Lauderdale though the restaurant also survived its first years in a Fort Lauderdale warehouse district. The big draws are the dynamic duo of good food and reasonable prices. And longtime fans will be happy to know Rosie is still there to greet patrons at lunch Monday through Friday.

Creolina's looks authentic too, a bit seedy like the Big Easy but fun and friendly, all the same. The high industrial ceiling, rough hewn wooden floor, sunflower yellow walls and the old upright piano (whose ivories get tickled Friday and Saturday nights) fit right in to this rather eclectic club, bar and restaurant-rich neighborhood.

In addition to the published menu chef/owner Mark Sulzinski offers daily, there are specials to spice up the mix. From the marker-board, we began our culinary tour of the Delta with Creole oysters with tomato and pepper ``piquant sauce'' ($8.95) and blackened shrimp and jack cheese spring rolls ($8.95). We were very pleased with the hot juicy pile of plump pillowy oysters, lightly breaded and quickly fried but the Cajun-Asian roll-ups didn't go over as well. Spring rolls are usually distinguished from egg rolls by the use of translucent rice-paper wrappers in place of heavier wheaten ones. Here the wrappers were as dark and dense as an alligator's hide but the sparse filling was pleasantly spiced and satisfyingly gooey.

Much better than spring rolls is the gator's tender tail, here served in thickly breaded but still pliable snippets ($8.95). Actually there could be anything hiding under all that breading but this one's worth ordering just to be able to tell your timid friends that you wrestled a gator and won. The accompanying ramekins of lemon garlic cayenne butter and remoulade sauce taste no better than tepid drawn butter and mayo; we would have preferred a tart squeeze of lemon and a dash of fiery Tabasco.

A large spicy bowl of roux-thickened and ebony-hued seafood gumbo ($6.95), with chunks of shrimp and a scattering of tiny crawfish tails, was among the best we've had.

Along with a basket of average rolls, meals at Creolina's are accompanied ( by scoops of washed-out rice, sweetly flavored acorn squash puree and vinegar-spiked collard greens. A pair of heavily breaded deep-fried soft-shell crabs with Crystal (the mild-flavored brand of Louisiana pepper sauce) buerre blanc ($18.95), a special of the night, spent too long in the fat but still managed to preserve its briny flavor and spidery shape. However, a thicker condiment would have been a better match for these greasy crustaceans than the thin weak butter sauce provided.

Catfish pecan ($15.95), though fresh and nicely cooked, was another dish heavily burdened by its dark mantle of breading and marred by another too oily sauce. Chicken Provencal ($12.95) was the only dish that could be described as elegant. Carefully sauteed just to the point of doneness the large juicy breast of chicken was draped with a light glaze of mellow garlic, bright green scallions and freshly torn tomatoes.

Bread pudding with Bourbon sauce ($4.95) is always available in New Orleans and Creolina's is faithful to her origins. Creolina's very fine rendition is made with big soft chunks of bread held together by velvety custard and spiked with a splash of the Southern whiskey while fresh whole raspberries and cut peaches frolic under a blanket of flaky crust ($4.95) in the homemade fruit crisp.

New Orleans is a place that has a real food culture; in the Crescent City they know fine food, cook fine food and expect fine food, nothing less would be tolerated. Fort Lauderdale's not yet in the same league -- Creolina's could hardly hold a candle to New Orleans' venerable Galatoire's or the elegant Commander's Palace but it serves pretty good grub at pretty good prices. As they say down on the bayou, ``Life's too short to eat boring food.''