Solid Oak

Unfortunately, though, neither Karen nor I could detect a mussel in the spicy cioppino. But Karen admired the plump scallops, the hunk of red snapper and the fat lobster claw floating in the tomato-based broth (with a hint of saffron but, Karen said, not enough salt). Carmen scored with a supple scaloppine of pink salmon languidly lying atop a mound of truffled lump crab and organic green lentils.

We ended that night sharing a trio of house-made sorbets: tart lime, sweet mango and a pucker-inducing fresh raspberry piled into a crisp pastry basket.

A few nights later, I returned with my friend Bob for a more robust steak dinner. He started with an appetizer of poached shrimp swathed in minced parsley, lemon peel and garlic accompanied by a bourbon-laden cocktail sauce. And I was mesmerized by honey-glazed slices of tender, moist duck breast, fanned atop a cool compote of chopped tomatoes, orange wedges and vinegary capers.

When it comes to steak, Lewis marinates his black angus strip with fresh herbs before tossing it on the grill, drenching it in a sleek Merlot demi-glaze and serving it with crunchy potato croquettes. "They look like giant tater tots," said Bob, who let me snatch one off his plate. My own hunk of prime rib was fabulously tender but almost dwarfed by the biggest salt-baked potato I'd ever seen (accessorized by tidy little cups of sour cream, grated cheese, bacon and chives).

It was overly indulgent to follow this meatfest with dessert, but we found ourselves irresistibly drawn to two items: a silken crème brûlée flavored with Tahitian vanilla (which was surprisingly lemony) and a tiramisu sheathed in chocolate as if it were a gift box.

Service was superattentive -- because we had the entire restaurant to ourselves for the first hour. That lent a bittersweet quality to the occasion. The view from the picture windows was beautiful, the appointments were elegant, the food was delicious. But the customers? Gone the way of the Pam Pam Room, I fear.