Fear of Flying

I've rarely had good luck with cheese plates in Kansas City. I've seen too many with a sliver of brie and cubes of pepper jack. But J.P. chef Darren Bartley has assembled some interesting combinations of imported fromage. The plates come with delicious accessories: tiny champagne grapes, salty kalamata olives, candied nuts, dried fruit, sliced radishes and gherkins, toasted crisps, crackers and sweet breads. They're not just easy-to-share finger food; sampling a couple of them adds up to a nice, light dinner. The menu urges diners to "be adventurous and daring," and I did my part by nibbling on mild French Mimolette (Charles DeGaulle's favorite cheese), sheep's milk cacio di fossa, and smoky Spanish Idiazábal.

Forty minutes later, there were 17 glasses of wine — empty and full — on the table and the adjacent window ledge. There was barely room for the additional dishes we ordered. The Ahi tuna tartar was a pile of ruby-colored cubes mixed with bits of tomato, onion and "wasabi foam" that was the same vibrant pink as bubble gum. We all liked the combination of sliced figs and pears splashed with honey as well as an offbeat assemblage of spicy chorizo, a fat marinated artichoke heart and a curl of frozen melon. Everything was lovely except for the panini du jour, a hunk of bread filled with smoked salmon and God knows what else.

"The panini," Carmen said, setting down a glass of Argentine Zamba Marca, "isn't sending me."

The wine did, however, and we left J.P. in exceptionally good spirits; three of the group were still flying.

I had a more promising panini experience a week or so later, when I stopped in with Carol Ann for lunch. The menu at that time of day includes soup, two wraps and two paninis. Chef Bartley is expanding the lunch menu considerably this month. "We had never intended to offer lunch," Maybee explained. "J.P. was going to be a coffeehouse in the day and a wine bar with small plates at night."

But so many people requested lunch that Maybee and Bartley flew into action. Lunches, like the small-plate menu, must be simple: The J.P. kitchen has no grill, no fryer and only a small oven. But Bartley's adding more salads and soups. When Carol Ann and I dined, there was a fine chicken tortilla soup, thick and punchy with peppers and served in a big cappuccino mug. The pricey panini sandwiches are served on toasted, not pressed, French bread. I was underwhelmed by the "ham and beer cheese" variation — made with Belgian Chimay Trappiste cheese — but I was impressed by the cheese-and-turkey number. The latter is as thick as a St. James Bible, piled with smoked turkey and provolone and slathered with the bizarre-sounding but tasty "spicy strawberry jam."

As an alternative to java joints that don't serve real food, J.P. Wine Bar & Coffee House is a real destination. No matter what flight you're on, there's always a happy landing.