By Paul Reidinger

LIKE MANY MOUNTAIN ranges, the Himalayas constitute a border country, a snow-dusted wall separating cultures, languages, religions, histories. On the one side is the great mass of India, with its Sanskritic tongue, its curries, and its Hinduism; on the other is China, land of Confucius and steamed dumplings. And not far off to one side is the aptly named Indo-Chinese peninsula, which brings to the mix a certain tropicality.

Nepal, when located on a globe, resembles a bumper or bushing, a narrow length of mountain country fitted between a pair of forceful giants. In that sense it differs from its mountainous Eurasian relation Switzerland, which isn't wedged between a mere pair of great powers but surrounded by a gaggle of medium-size ones. Presumably this is less stressful, the frictive cultural energy being more broadly diffused. On the other hand, the two places do share a certain mix-and-match identity that reveals itself not least in food. In Switzerland this means schnitzel with dry white wine from the Valais and, perhaps, gelato for dessert; in Nepal it means tandoori chicken, possibly preceded by a plate of momos and accompanied by chana masala served in a handsome, two-handled brass pot that looks vaguely Thai.

At Taste of the Himalayas the momos – there is a vegetarian version ($7.50), stuffed with spinach, onion, and potato, and a beef version – are actually memories of the previous tenant, Lhasa Moon, which for some years was the only Tibetan restaurant in the metropolitan area. The momos themselves, steamed dumplings puckeringly gathered together at the top (the converging folds are like the stem ends of an unhusked tomatillo), rather strongly resemble the Chinese buns called shumai, and they remind us that Tibet isn't so much an abutment of China as an unwilling part of it.

But that is a hard story for someone else to tell. For us, the matter at hand is the segue from Lhasa Moon to Taste of the Himalayas, from a Tibetan to a primarily Nepalese cuisine – which means mainly a drift toward a menu most of us would recognize as subcontinental in its recitation of, among other familiar choices, naan, basmati rice, and the yogurt-cucumber condiment raita.

There are some definitively Nepalese preparations, prominent among them the chicken chili ($7.95), strips of boneless chicken meat marinated in yogurt with spices and sautéed with some tomato. The result is a close relation of tandoori chicken: same color but a bit richer (because of the sautéing) and sweeter (because of the tomato). The menu lists the dish as an appetizer, but it is substantial enough to make up a meal for an ordinary appetite. It also, for us, found its way into the lunch special ($9), where it joined a tasty parade of curried vegetables (potato, cauliflower, zucchini, tomato), a cup of pureed lentil soup, and a basket of naan triangles, crisp and fresh from the oven.

And there are items you would find in Indian and Pakistani restaurants all over town. Among these usual suspects are saag paneer ($9.50), spinach cooked with mild spices and cubes of white cheese, and chana masala ($9.50), chickpeas in a well-seasoned onion sauce. I don't think I've ever had bad renditions of these dishes anywhere, but Taste's kitchen is in the top stratum of seasoning boldness. You are asked, incidentally, how spicy you want things to be; we like spicy food, but we found "medium" – two little chile pepper icons – to provide ample kick. And a further incidental: the cheese cubes in the saag paneer are lightly fried. I had not seen this before; typically the cheese is fresh.

We did find one dish that didn't quite measure up. That was the kukhura ko tarkari ($10.95), cubes of boneless chicken meat stewed with onions and tomato. It sounded as if it would be like, or a kind of, chicken tikka masala, and in fact our server so referred to it when reading back our order. And so it was, though the characteristic pinkish-orange sauce turned out to be a bit thicker and sweeter than ideal.

Also thick and sweet, though this time delightfully, was the chyang ($3), a milky Himalayan concoction of rice and barley that, like sake, occupies a border country between wine and beer. It is a favorite of the Sherpas, those doughty Nepalese best known in this country for leading people to the summit of Mount Everest.

The young co-owner of Taste of the Himalayas, Pemba Sherpa, is a Sherpa. We did not glimpse him in mountaineering gear (unless those were mountaineering sneakers), but he did assure us that he has the "big lungs" of his people – useful for breathing at high altitudes, if not at the top of Everest then in Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal and his hometown. His restaurant hometown is Sonoma, on whose fabled town square the original Taste of the Himalayas is to be found. Exotic food migrating into the city instead of radiating from it? Sure enough. Taste of the Himalayas. 2420 Lombard (at Scott), S.F. (415) 674-9898. Lunch: Mon.-Fri., 11 a.m.-3 p.m. Dinner: Tues.-Sun., 5-10 p.m. Beer and wine. American Express, Diners Club, Discover, MasterCard, Visa. Not noisy. Wheelchair accessible.