One of the best things about this job is that when a new restaurant opens, I get to try it. And I'm not talking about new as in the same old ”I've got the best hot Brown in town.“ I'm talking about new as in restaurants that offer cuisine you've never even considered. Cuisine you wouldn't ever try unless you've traveled the world. Ever heard of Colombian cuisine? I'll admit I'd never thought about it. But that's what Tropikal Mix serves.

It's in a small strip mall in a tiny space that had been a Chinese eatery on Lexington's north side (just across from the Bryan Station Kroger on New Circle Road). Did I say small? The place has only five tables. But its food is unusual and it's good.

I went alone on this review. My dinner date stubbed her toe or something. I started my meal with a lulo fruit smoothie ($2). Lulo fruit is indigenous to Colombia, where it is very popular. It is tart and makes a wonderfully tangy and delicious smoothie.

For an appetizer, I tried the empanadas ($1). These were small cornmeal pies filled with either chicken or beef. I ordered one of each, but ended up with two chicken empanadas. Inside these pies, shredded chicken and spices had been blended with papas criollas, or Colombian golden potatoes. The pies were fried, not baked, and were served with chimichurri sauce, a mixture of parsley, cilantro, garlic, oil and vinegar. The sauce is used throughout South America to liven things up a bit, much like salsa in Mexico. The server, who also was the cook, asked me if I'd like something spicier. I said yes, so he brought out a small cup of what he called salsa. It was more like pico de gallo, drier than what we know as salsa. And with jalapeños and onion, it certainly was hot.

I ordered the pollo asado, or grilled chicken, ($5.99) for an entree. Three sides came with it. The chicken breast had been marinated in a mixture of beer, garlic, cilantro and parsley, and then flattened and grilled. It was delicious and even better with a little more chimichurri sauce. The sides I chose were sweet plantains, arepita (cornbread), and papas criollas. These potatoes, all the size of large marbles, had been roasted and served plain. The flesh of these potatoes was as yellow as an egg yolk. Chimichurri sauce went well with them, too.

There were a couple of interesting selections for dessert. Tres leches, or three-milk, cake looked intriguing. I asked and was told it's made with whole milk, evaporated milk and condensed milk. But the server-chef told me the dessert to order was maduro with cheese ($2.99). He said it is the most popular dessert in Colombia. What he brought me was a sweet plantain topped with what looked like ketchup, but it wasn't. A whole plantain had been split like a banana, covered with mozzarella cheese and baked until the cheese melted slightly. Then it was topped with a sweet red guava paste. Now I know why it's a ­Colombian favorite. It was sweet from the plantain and guava, but not too sweet, and it went perfectly with a good styrofoam cup of Colombian coffee ($1.50).

The only thing I didn't like about the place was that they use plastic — utensils, plates and cups.

Dinner for one, including tax but not tip, was $15.35.

On a lunch outing on Tuesday, I popped in to Tropikal Mix and tried bandejita paisa ($8). It was Colombia's version of the plowman's lunch. The plate was filled with two sausages — chorizo and blood sausage — a dry beef dish, white rice, pinto beans, and fried green and ripe plantains. This was Colombian home cooking. The food is simple and good, but not great. With its low prices, though, Tropikal Mix is certainly worth a visit. That lunch was about $13.

Every now and then a rare play comes along that is like the perfect date – smart, funny, sexy, sophisticated – and maybe a little bit intimidating. Actors’ Guild of Lexington’s latest production, Arcadia, is such a play.

Before you go thinking it is out of your league, think again. Playwright Tom Stoppard’s script is so sweeping in its content, from math and physics to history and poetry to sex and religion; it is bound to strike at least one of your fancies, probably many more. What’s more, its diverse subject matter (life, the universe and everything!), as well as its sharply hewn characters and casually elevated wit, offers endless ways “in” to the production so that all but the very determined naysayer will be easily seduced intellectually, emotionally, and maybe even spiritually.

An all-star local cast breathes life into Stoppard’s richly wrought tale of two families who live in the same stately English manor, Sidley Park, but at different points in history. Half of the play takes place in the 19th century and the other in the late 20th.

The earlier period centers on the relationships among the Coverly family and their several houseguests, including an offstage Lord Byron. Tutored by a friend and former classmate of Byron’s, Septimus Hodge (Adam Luckey), young Thomasina Coverly (Rebecca Pearcy) is a mathematical prodigy, discovering ideas about chaos theory, thermodynamics, and the fate of the universe, among other things, a hundred years before their time.

Thomasina’s work, along with Hodge’s fate, and Bryon’s involvement in the family - including the dynamics of their implied romantic aspirations - lies at the center of a mystery that 20th-century scholars hope to discover by researching the written accounts that remain of Sidley Park. The scholars’ interrelationships, along with those of the Coverly descendants still living at Sidley Park, bear such striking thematic resemblances to their predecessors; it is obvious that their worlds are inextricably linked.

Watching the detailed unfolding of scholarly research doesn’t conjure images of scintillatingly urgent, nail-biting drama, but this production somehow manages to do just that. Stoppard’s signature wit and erudition offers a wryly entertaining way to engage the story’s complex intellectual mysteries and emotional intrigues.

Director Ave Lawyer and the cast deserve praise for a job thoroughly well done.

So advanced is the material that even the slightest lack of depth in preparation would make the whole experience seem like a sophomoric joke. While each character seems passionately and convincingly possessed by her own individual ideas, it is the cast’s collective sense of timing and carefully delivered interactions that make the play a whole, unified experience rather than a series of dangling, separate parts.

For instance, the two “worlds” of the play beautifully converge and overlap toward the end in elegantly staged choreography that underscores the play’s overarching continuity. And although it runs a little on the long side (three hours), the pacing feels even, satisfying, and natural, so that we feel we are watching real, dynamic human lives, not just a list of dry ideas.

The number of talented cast members are too great to account for individually, but one enjoyable hallmark of this show is its debut of imported actress Rebecca Pearcy, whose Thomasina is refreshingly animate, earnest, and bright. One gets the sense that her infectious enthusiasm exists off stage as well as on (for more on that, check out her blog at www.actorsguildoflexington.org). And naturally, she wins the prize for best British accent seeing as she is, well, British.

This show is also the first and possibly only known production that employs the talents of a live tortoise. While he is rumored to be something of a backstage diva, his onstage antics, which include crawling and chewing on paper, are not to be missed.

All in all, this show’s fertile material and top-notch performances provide a memorable evening of entertainment, intellectual acuity, and meaningful romance. So rich is its offerings that you could attend every performance and discover new, wildly sophisticated, almost mind-blowing ideas and implications.

In fact, it even comes with instructions in the form of a study guide in the playbill, and a glossary and packet of supplemental materials awaits you in the lobby should you decide to delve deeper into the play’s expansive litany of themes.

Regardless, you will probably leave the play at least 10 IQ points smarter than when you entered. If you see it many times, you may become a genius. And if you want to impress a date with your wit and intelligence, this is the show for you.

Yes, Virginia, there really are vicious, ugly giants who will eat you in your sleep.

The latest production at Lexington Children's Theatre reveals this unfortunate truth, but not without offering a super-size solution revealed in the play's title, The BFG (Big Friendly Giant).

The story centers on Sophie (Brianna Mayo), a young British orphan who spies a giant (Kristen Smiley, as the BFG) lurking outside her bedroom window one evening. Knowing he has been spotted, the giant whisks Sophie away to his secret lair in the Land of Giants. But instead of eating her (as other giants would), he befriends her, delighting her with his funny tales and his goofy, peculiar way of speaking ”giant.“ He even shows her how he is a ”dreamblower,“ a giant who collects dreams in colorful jars and later blows them into the minds of sleeping children so that they will be happy. Unfortunately for the BFG, his benevolent ways earn him lots of scorn from the other, mean, child-eating giants, and he is routinely picked on and bullied.

When the pair learn that the other ­giants plan to target the children of England as their next meals, they concoct a far-fetched plan to save the day. This plan involves dream potions, a visit to the queen of England's bedroom, and vanquishing a dreary orphanage, among other things.

Based on the book by Roald Dahl and adapted for the stage by David Wood, The BFG is a goofy, giant tale of how unlikely friendships and the right mix of dreams and determination can defeat even the nastiest of monsters.

Likewise, director Jeremy Kisling's larger-than-life show has just the right mix of squeal-in-the-dark terror tempered with big old goofy silliness. The result is a fun romp that occasionally teeters on the edge of over-ambition.

This giant ambition works most of the time. For instance, lighting designer Adam Spencer gets to go nuts (in a good way) with wildly dramatic effects that delighted the young audience when I saw the show. They relished the chance to scream and squirm during the moody, strobe-lit sequences when the monstrous giants were ”hunting“ children just like them.

Such squeals of terror (the kind you make on a roller coaster) were replaced with generous ”oohs“ and ”ahhs“ over the beautifully rendered ”dream-catching“ sequence, which incorporated a black light and a chandelier of sparkles to ­create an enchanting, surreal ­effect. Plus, the lucky kids who happened to wear white scored some extra-cool points with their peers by briefly glowing in the dark.

I would be remiss not to mention that in the performance I attended, the children might have gotten the biggest kick out of a big friendly set piece that made an unexpectedly smashing entrance toward the end of the play. Let's just say that the Union Jack fell in dramatic fashion, but it was quickly recovered and restored by some royally classy, quick-thinking young actors. What can you say — it's live theater!

Despite the occasional glitch, the show relies on a good deal of technical wizardry, including Lindsay Schmeling's monster-size costumes. Kisling also employs innovative techniques to emphasis the vast difference in scale between Sophie and the BFG, including the use of a doll to represent Sophie at times, or a giant, moving cutout silhouette to represent the BFG.

Still, the most challenging and rewarding aspect of this show is its mastery of playful language. The BFG, and all the other giants, it seems, have a delightfully absurd, peculiar way of talking that includes a vocabulary of almost entirely made-up or mispronounced words. The giants like to eat ”human beans,“ although the BFG subsists on the disgusting ”snozcumbers,“ which he washes down with a fizzy drink called ”frobscottle.“ Unlike humans, giants enjoy the melodious digestive effects of this drink — the, um, explosive fun of ”whizpopping.“ Sometimes it is hard to follow the language of the play, and other times, the meanings of words are hilariously obvious based on their sounds alone.

All in all, this show offers a giant dose of fun.

The oversize corner building straddling the access road along Patchen Drive has never beckoned. It just sits there, and for years has impersonated a restaurant. That unwelcoming aura, coupled with a bunch of past bad meals, had cemented my "don't go there" attitude.

Well, that has changed with India Garden, Lexington's new remedy for the ghee-saturated who seek a fresh, light perspective on the subcontinent's abundant culinary possibilities. With the exception of crimson finger stains from tandoori shrimp ($7.99 as an appetizer) and the cool core of a potato-and-pea samosa (imagine Indian turnovers) -- a notable minus on the assorted platter ($6.95) consisting also of tender chicken tikka and crisp, piping hot pakoras (think Indian fritters) -- every bite and sip at this white-tablecloth restaurant raises the bar on Indian dining in Lexington.

The mulligatawny soup ($2.99) is fabulous and understated, with pulverized lentils giving a sleek elegant mouth feel that trumps the prevalent thicker versions; the addition of basil is brilliant.

Sampling only four entrees from the menu's five pages is hardly representative, but each was pretty much perfect.

The cubes of meat in the lamb methi masala ($13.99), with fenugreek and chopped spinach, were like butter. The sauce of the chicken mango wala ($13.99) married the heat of ginger with the sweetness of the mango chutney; I would have, however, wished for more tender dark meat. The Goa-inspired vegan vegetable vindaloo ($10.99), a stew of al dente cauliflower, green beans, peas, carrots and potatoes, opened with a tangy note, followed by each vegetable's distinct flavor, and closed with a layer of pleasant heat. Finally, fresh peas and homemade white cheese, aka matter paneer ($10.99), were respectively sweet and rich in a curry of tomatoes, onions, garlic and ginger.

Incidentally, I ordered each dish with medium spiciness, which struck the ideal balance between the flavors of the food and the spicy chilies.

Although entrees include basmati rice, you still need a pratha (hot buttery whole wheat bread, $2.75), or a garlic naan (the beloved pliant dirigible of white bread, $2.99). Or both.

A refreshing conclusion to a warm meal is a dessert of kulfi ($3.75), or ice cream, whose crystalline texture is more like ice milk, with a hint of rose water and ground pistachios and almonds.

Service is pleasant, efficient and anonymous, and management is knowledgeable, informing rather than marketing. One proof of that is the inclusion of sustainably cultivated white wines from India (less than $8 a glass), both superb partners for the cuisine. The owner also recommended the imported Flying Horse beer ($7.95 for 22 ounces) over the now-made-in-the-U.S.A. Kingfisher ($6.95).

I have been to India Garden three times in 10 days, more than I have set foot in that structure in a decade.

I intend to make that a habit.

A three-course dinner for two, including wine, beer and tax but not tip, was about $61.

Researching The Dame has been an education for me.

Some of it, of course, is generational. For example, I learned more about the glories of MySpace.com, where previews of just about every lineup on any given night are available, conveniently linked on The Dame's home page. No more guesswork about spending time and energy on an act you will despise.

I learned too that, in spite of its reputation of being for "young" people, "Lexington's live music hall" has, for five years, been offering the most diverse entertainment in town.

Talent finder Nick Sprouse recites a long list of musical genres, from country to techno, psychedelic to folk, indie to blues, and all the genres in between. The Dame has participated in the Lexington Mardi Gras celebration and Until the Violence Stops, as well as charity events, tributes, comedy and improv theater, exclusive film screenings, and open mike nights.

In short, it's a club for everyone.

I spend all this time on back story because the bar at The Dame is really an appendage, albeit an essential one, and what goes down at the bar is directly related to the crowd, which directly corresponds to who is playing (or DJ'ing). And because the layout of the space itself -- a cavern with incidental seating, an elevated stage and mega-speakers -- is dedicated to music appreciation and dancing, the bar, with just a few stools, caters to those who order and leave or belly up on a slow night to talk with one of the fun bartenders.

There are seven bartenders in rotation, all of whom have been there a while. "They love working here," Sprouse says. "We've never had an unhappy bartender."

Given all this, and that every drink is served in a plastic cup, don't get too silly and expect some kind of stultifying pretense or quaffing wine. Or even beer; the best bottles I saw in the cooler were Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.

So, who is drinking what? Here is some anecdotal evidence supplied by staff.

Country shows bring in the "lite" crown, Bud and Coors. It was news to me that indie rockers drink PBR, which I learned is the abbreviation for Pabst Blue Ribbon; the hippest among this group drink Stella Artois. Whiskey and Coke sells out at punk shows. The college crowd still orders Long Island ice teas. Dame publicist Samantha Herald reminded me that JŠgermeister remains in fashion: "It's always fun, social and easy going down."

Predictably, there are several good bourbons available: Woodford Reserve, Basil Hayden, Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, Buffalo Trace. The well is Kentucky Tavern, which has developed a quirky local following.

So far familiar, right?

Well, then, name the popular drink that surely gets honorable mention for best buzz, dual use, most additives and overall weirdness?

The distinction goes to Red Bull and vodka, a blend of the Austrian "energy drink" that apparently is designed to enhance endurance and performance with the cleanest and most beloved of spirits.

Bartender Mike Sullivan says this cocktail resonates most with the late Friday night '80s dance crowd, closely followed by the "JŠgerbomb." He was kind enough to share both recipes (see the box above) for those of you who are inveterate experimenters or just want to stay up all night in a mellow state of intoxication.

What's in a name? In the case of Pho BC, a new Vietnamese restaurant on Lexington's southside, there is more to it than meets the ear. Pho is the famous beef soup of Vietnam, probably its national dish. But for the longest time, maybe since I first tried it 20 years ago, I've been mispronouncing it. I was told it's pronounced "foe." But a Vietnamese native and colleague told me otherwise. Pho is a two-syllable word and is pronounced "fuh-UH." Who'd have thunk. And another thing I learned: Pho BC isn't faux, it's the real deal.

If you don't know, Vietnamese cuisine utilizes lots and lots of fresh ingredients. If the ingredients aren't already incorporated into a dish, plates of fresh ingredients -- basil, cilantro and other herbs -- are provided so you can add what you want.

Three Herald-Leader employees took part in this review -- the Vietnamese native, another newsroom employee and me -- and we had a feast.

We started with egg rolls ($2.95 for two). These were smaller and more tightly wrapped than the Chinese variety but with similar ingredients -- bits of pork, shredded cabbage and carrot. They do have vegetarian egg rolls if you desire. The dipping sauce was hoisin, a sweet, slightly spicy, soy sauce/bean paste concoction that is used in a lot of Asian cooking. The Vietnamese love it, and so do I.

The shrimp and pork salad rolls, aka summer rolls ($2.95 for two), introduced us to the freshness for which Vietnamese cooking is known. Cooked shrimp, slices of pork, rice vermicelli noodles, cilantro and other herbs were wrapped in opaque rice-flour paper (it's actually a noodle). Hoisin sauce and nuoc mam, an anchovy-based vinegar sauce that the Vietnamese use like Mexicans use salsa, were available for dipping. All fresh, all good.

Our Vietnamese guide (it's always better to take someone who knows better) wanted us to try the salted fried squid ($12.95). If you're thinking calamari, it's different. Calamari is cut from the tentacles and comes in rings. Vietnamese salted fried squid is cut into slivers, then fried. If squid isn't cooked enough, it's rubbery. Cooked too long, its tough. This squid had been lightly battered and fried perfectly. It was as tender as any calamari I've ever had.

One of the chef's specialties is the Vietnamese pancake ($11.95). We were served two crepes made of eggs, rice flour and coconut milk. More eggy than floury, the very thin crepes were served with pork and shrimp, basil, romaine lettuce and cilantro. We doused it with nuoc mam, the vinegar-anchovy sauce. It was heaven.

Before the pho (remember, fuh-UH), we went back to fresh ... the rice vermicelli bowl, with vermicelli noodles and very thinly sliced (almost shaved) grilled pork, cucumber and mung bean sprouts ($7.25). A plate of lettuce leaves, cilantro, Thai basil and other herbs was served on the side. We broke the stem out of the lettuce leaves and wrapped any and all of the ingredients in the leaves, then doused them with nuoc mam. Once again, very fresh flavors were enhanced, but not covered up, by the sauce. They were delicious.

Our final main dish was Vietnam's famous beef soup, pho ($6.50 small, $7.95 large). This was a clear soup served with very thin slices of beef and vermicelli noodles. Served on the side, among other things, were basil, limes, cilantro, sriracha (a fiery hot sauce) and hoisin sauce. It was one of the most well-balanced soups I've ever tasted. This soup isn't whipped up in 15 minutes. Bones, marrow and spices, like star anise and cloves, are all a part of the preparation. But I couldn't taste one of them. It was a perfect blend ... not one spice dominated. Just an extraordinarily noodle-beef soup. I tried it with the hot sauce and hoisin sauce and liked it better plain.

Dessert was a bit strange. Three-colored dessert was parfaitlike in appearance -- different colored layers of this and that. This and that were red beans on the bottom, hard green gelatin (similar to gummy bears) in the middle, and ice soaked in white coconut milk on the top. When it was brought to the table, we stirred it all up and enjoyed.

However, I liked the coffee much better. The Vietnamese brew each cup individually. They have these stainless steel drip apparatuses that slowly release strong coffee into each cup. Each cup already had condensed milk in the bottom. This was my dessert.

It was all good, but the restaurant, a small, tavernlike space, had only one server. If diners storm this bastille, service could be slow.

Dinner for three, including soft drinks, a jackfruit smoothie and a sour sop smoothie, but not tip, was $88.

VERSAILLES -- “The Glass Menagerie” by Tennessee Williams is probably one of the few plays most people have actually read. After all, it is common literary fare in high school English curriculums.

If the vision of essays and Cliff’s Notes comes to mind, relax. Woodford County Theatrical Arts Association’s latest production of Williams’ first and most autobiographical play is a strikingly beautiful, grown-up rendering that deserves a revisit by your adult self. Best of all, there is no exam at the end.

Whether you are familiar with the material or not, experiencing this fully realized, exquisitely staged version of “The Glass Menagerie,” directed by Joe Ferrell, is decidedly worth a drive to Versailles.

The experience begins well before curtain.

When you walk into the theater, a thick haze of smoke hangs in the air, curling along the stage and wafting in billowed plumes above the audience. Huge swaths of airy fabric drape along the back perimeter of the stage, framing Robert Pickering’s set design of a small apartment in Depression-era St. Louis. Waiting to be lit by Todd Pickett’s evocative lighting design, the set lurks in the smoky dark like a memory waiting to be remembered.

Turns out, memory is indeed the destination. A character walks out, lights a cigarette and tell us so.

Tom (Timothy Hull) serves as both narrator and character. The narrator is a 1945 version of Tom reflecting back on events 10 years prior. As narrator, he directly addresses the audience, clearly dictating the terms of the play. He declares it a “memory play,” and warns us that it is not realistic, but rather formed by the symbolic nuances of memory.

Sound designer Eric Miller’s soundtrack of reminiscent music sweeps unobtrusively in and out of the production. Pickett’s lighting frames the “memory” in dramatic, haunting hues.

The memory, or more accurately, the series of memories, centers on the struggles of Tom’s family during the Depression. Each member is plagued by the conflict between reality’s restrictions, namely financial, and the desperate grandeur of their separate imaginations.

His mother, Amanda (Patti Heying), is a displaced, fading, Southern belle who alternates between moments of relentless nagging in the name of fierce pragmatism and over-the-top recollections of her allegedly genteel Southern heritage. Tom himself suffers a tedious life as a warehouse worker in a shoe factory when he would rather be off writing poems.

The sole supporter of the family since his father, “a telephone man who fell in love with long distance,” abandoned the family long ago, Tom feels obligated to take care of his mother, but more important, his intensely shy, peculiar sister Laura.

It is Laura (Nathalie Olivier) whose schism between reality and imagination is the most tragic. Painfully self-conscious of her awkward limp, Laura lives in a dream world that consists of collecting tiny glass animals and playing her father’s old Victrola.

Desperate to arrange a solid future for Laura, Amanda recruits Tom to invite a “gentleman caller” over for dinner in the hopes that it will result in a secure marriage for Laura. When such a gentlemen caller does visit, after a flurry of extravagant preparation by Amanda, the fragile Laura is mortified to learn that it is the one and only boy she ever had a crush on in high school.

The strong cast does a fine job believably establishing their characters’ struggles, both within themselves and among each other. As the characters’ tension and desperation builds, so does our investment in them.

This investment reaches its zenith in the private, candlelit moments between Laura and the man she has secretly loved for eight years, Jim (Paul Carelli). Olivier and Carelli’s poignant, aching scenes together are intensely moving. The pair take their time, allowing the audience to savor their bittersweet exchanges, including a shared kiss that is almost too tender, too innocent, too perfect to bear.

Overall, Ferrell offers a poetic, exquisitely rendered production of “The Glass Menagerie” whose impact, like memories themselves, hauntingly lingers long after the applause fades.

A common complaint among theater professionals is that there are not enough good roles available for women.

Playwright David Mamet, known for his heavily male-centric plays such as “American Buffalo,” decided to prove otherwise by writing “Boston Marriage,” an all-female ensemble piece that explores a modern issue through the lens of history.

The term “Boston marriage” is Victorian code for two single, upper-class women who live together. This term may or may not imply that the pair is involved in a romantic, physical relationship.

In Actors Guild of Lexington’s production of Mamet’s play, director Jack Parrish entertainingly maintains the ambiguous nuance of this arrangement. He offers us a vision into a world where blatant sexual innuendo is veiled by feigned Victorian innocence and mannerism. The result is a finely executed comedy that offers something for everyone. If farce is your thing, you will get a kick out of its turns of the absurd. If you’re more into the meat and potatoes of a piece, you can leave the theater discussing the show’s relevance to the modern debate on gay marriage. Or you can just enjoy scenic designer Eric Seale’s lovely take on a sherry-drenched Victorian drawing room.

A period piece with a twist, “Boston Marriage” details the conflicts between Anna (Julianne Beasley Pogue) and Claire (Gina Scott-Lynaugh), two high-society women long entrenched in their own Boston marriage. The couples “marriage” is in jeopardy when Claire falls in love with a much younger woman and wants to bring her to Anna’s home for a little, er, afternoon delight.

Anna herself has acquired a companion of her own, a male “protector” who provides Anna with a stipend, new dresses and any number of lavish gifts, including a ridiculously ornate emerald necklace. Anna’s arrangement as the mistress of a married man allows the female couple to live in comfort.

Anna still loves Claire and, despite her jealously and melodramatic protests, reluctantly and conditionally allows the young girl to visit Claire.

This clandestine meeting turns out to be a disaster. We learn that Claire’s prospective lover is the daughter of Anna’s rich benefactor. What’s more, the daughter sees the emerald necklace, puts two and two together, and the proverbial cat is out of the bag.

Now the ladies must struggle with loss on multiple levels – Claire’s loss of her love interest (which she apparently considers to be her last romantic hurrah), Anna’s loss of her income and the couple’s potential shared loss of their own relationship.

Mamet’s signature lightning-paced dialogue is clothed in ornate Victorian parlance and laced with cheeky double entendre. In less adept hands, mastering his script might be akin to orchestrating a clumsy, staged speed-reading of a Jane Aust-n novel. Fortunately for us, Pogue and Scott-Lynaugh are in excellent command of the play’s richly stylized language, which, like Shakespeare’s, could easily carry them away with its dense complexity.

Pogue seems particularly adept at wielding an arsenal of multisyllabic Latin derivations. One gets the feeling she talks like that all the time. One also got that feeling when she played a heavily accented megalomaniac male artist in last season’s “Anton in Show Business.” Both roles are testaments to her talent and flexibility.

This play may have strong elements of farce, but its characters are not one-dimensional. Despite their turn of the 20th-century roots, these characters are unabashedly modern in their complexities, contradictions and blatant flaws. Pogue and Scott-Lynaugh deftly navigate swift shifts from moments of highbrow intellectual discourse to base cursing. Outbursts of violently witty accusations can quickly turn to sudden moments of tender reconciliation.

Despite the couple’s cavalier rebellion against the repressive sexual mores of the time, the two are far from liberated from the less sensational but equally sinister Victorian prejudice of classism.

This unenlightened attitude is boldly displayed in their dismissive, cruel treatment of their immigrant maid, Catherine. Anna portentously lectures Catherine about the ignorant plight of her simple minded people, the Irish – doesn’t she know that their potato famine was caused by lack of crop rotation and depleted nitrogen in the soil? Carelessly ignoring the fact that Catherine is from the Orkney Islands in Scotland, not Ireland, she continues to treat Catherine like a crude, vacant stereotype, calling her any range of names from Molly to Mary to Nora. Somehow, this ends up being wildly hilarious rather than offensive, yet the underlying theme of hypocrisy lingers.

Speaking of Catherine, Laura Blake freshly exemplifies sheer charm in her role as the downtrodden servant. Her thick Orkney accent easily convinces but what’s more, her curt appearances inject vital bursts of coarse humor and sympathy, as well as a welcome break from the intensity of Anna and Claire’s heavy dialogue.

Despite what may sound like heavy themes, this show has a veneer of jovial, witty farce delivered at break-neck speed. A comedy with a conscience, its strength is a smart, uproarious and stylized humor that does not sacrifice a deeper meaning.

Koreana is like so many family-owned holes in the wall: The atmosphere, the restaurant's weak suit, is homemade, kitschy, a little bit bare with harsh lighting and knickknacks that don't really hang together.

That's OK, though, because also homemade are all the delicious dishes the place offers, making it easy to forgive -- no, actually overlook -- tacky wall hangings, and decor and seating that appear long overdue for rehab.

Greetings are robust and cheerful with smiles a mile wide. The muted music does not interfere with the sounds of chopping and sizzling coming from the kitchen. Whether you pick dumplings or noodles, soups or barbecue, for less than $15 a person you might take home a big bag of leftovers. But I recommend ordering smart and leaving empty-handed because everything is freshly prepared and best eaten that way.

One good dish for sharing is jem mon do ($9.95), tender steamed dumplings stuffed with beef; the sweet and salty dipping sauce is a great foil for the mildly seasoned ground meat. Another is a huge Korean pancake called pa jeon. More about that in a moment.

One specialty of Korean cuisine is dolsot bibimbap ($11.95), an architectural wonder in a cast-iron or stoneware pot of rice (go for the crust on the bottom) mounted with sweet and tangy barbecued beef, scattered with carrots, bean sprouts, zucchini and spinach, and topped with an over-easy egg that not only adds flavor but contributes a creamy mouthfeel when the yolk is punctured.

And, of course, like most entrees, this comes with panchan, the assortment of little condiments that vary day to day -- sometimes turnips and bean sprouts, or maybe tempeh and spinach, sometimes a mix, with or without chili flakes, they are the ideal enhancements of flavor and texture. The only constant is the ever-present kimchi, chopped leaves of spicy fermented cabbage.

On a winter night, nothing satisfies quite as much as a bowl -- really more like a tureen -- of noodle soup, in this case wool myeon ($10.95), with slippery slurping flour noodles, a subtle salty broth, a vegetable medley like in the bibimbap, and squid and shrimp.

But you don't need a cold evening to enjoy Korean noodles. One of the greatest pastas on earth is chap che ($11.95), an enormous serving of sensuously oily clear noodles, stir-fried with julienne of carrots, sliced scallions, mushrooms, onions, pork and a broadcasting of sesame seeds.

This makes a perfect lunch for two, washed down with some OB beer from Korea.

And speaking of lunch, here's the final anecdote to which I alluded earlier. It illustrates both the generosity of Koreana's portions and the seductiveness of the flavors.

I dropped in one Tuesday afternoon with a craving for Korea's formidable contribution to the pancake world, hae mul pa jeon ($12.95), a supple cross between a rich crepe and a frittata, with the texture of sponge cake, studded with scallions, onions, carrots, mushrooms and, in this case, chicken, with a "secret" sauce for dipping that suggested rice vinegar, soy sauce and sesame oil.

While alternating between reading my book and distracting myself with intermittent bites, I overheard the people behind me ask the server what I was eating. Since the pa jeon was huge (I hadn't even managed to eat half), I turned around with the plate and offered them a wedge or two, which they, with some hesitation, finally took.

After a couple bites, they instantly ordered their own.

Such are the charms of dining at Koreana.

A large dinner for two, including tax and beer but not tip, was about $45; a single lunch that would feed two or more was about $13.

Billy Joel's public profile has always been that of a New Yorker, singing New York State of Mind from under a Yankees cap.

But he grew up on Long Island, not Manhattan, in a bedroom community not unlike suburbs across the country. And that is where so many of his songs are drawn from.

Most of our high schools had a Brenda and Eddie, "the king and the queen of the prom, driving around with the car top down and the radio on." And we knew a James, the young man, "living up to expectations," even if they weren't his own.

And we have those little Italian restaurants, where they will offer "a bottle of red" or "a bottle of white."

When Twyla Tharp decided she wanted to make a Broadway show out of Joel's music, those are the characters and stories she seized on. And that's why Movin' Out, like Joel's music, works as well here in Kentucky as it does in the Big Apple.

Amplifying the emotions is its arrival as the United States is at war, as it was in the late 1960s and early '70s, when Movin' Out takes place.

It's the story of Brenda and Eddie, the leading man and woman of the Joel classic Scenes from an Italian Restaurant, as well as Tony of the show's title song and James, the title character of an early Joel album cut. Their tale of hookups, breakups, breakdowns and ultimately redemption are told entirely in dance.

Sometimes the Lexington Opera House's Broadway Live series gets a show that benefits from the younger casts of the non-union tours it usually gets, and this is one of them. Many in this cast are on their first tours, and their enthusiasm and closeness to the age of the characters fires their performances.

None is more amazing than Andrew Pirozzi as Eddie. There are four Eddies listed in the program, and no wonder. It's a marathon of a role demanding everything from ballet to gymnastics to break dancing and little time for a break. All the major cast members and several ensemble players also get the spotlight, including a lovely ballet for Karolina Blonski as Judy and Eric Bourne as James to Just the Way You Are.

Joel purists might be a tad bugged by some songs taken out of context such as Big Shot and Angry Young Man, but then there are shattering interpretations such as Goodnight Saigon. Piano Man Matthew Friedman does Joel's music justice.

If there's a shortcoming in the music, it's that the band is a bit restrained, particularly guitarist Johan Nilson. This may have as much to do with arrangements as his playing, but there are several songs where the guitar is supposed to wail, like Big Shot, and, disappointingly, it doesn't.

Yes, it's a Broadway-style show. But as some guy from New York once wrote, "It's still rock 'n' roll."

BEREA -- When the state proclaimed this small southern Madison County college town the "Artisan Capital of Kentucky," it was bound to draw the tourist traders. I went with two Berea natives to sample the wares of Main Street Cafe, a restaurant that depends on the kindness of tourists, not the locals.

We were there between Christmas and New Year's, and College Square, an enormous complex that includes the fabled Boone Tavern Hotel and smaller retail spaces, was still done up in festive lights, ribbons and bows. It was a sight to behold walking in front of the all-white complex with its "little shop around the corner" look -- Boone Tavern was maybe a quarter full; Papa Leno's, a pizza-Italian restaurant, was maxed out with not a seat to be had, and Main Street CafŽ had one table of patrons.

After we got past the cafŽ's jewelry and postcards, we saw a pleasant, attractive space -- long and narrow, bare brick walls, much like an art gallery. In the back of the restaurant, a gentleman was playing a guitar and singing folk songs.

Main Street CafŽ offers an adequate menu for supper. Crab cakes, a couple of vegetarian entrees, Danish meatballs (frikadeller) and a couple of fish entrees were notable. But after we shared the sampler platter of appetizers, it became clear it was just a heat-and-eat kind of place.

The appetizers on the sampler platter ($8.99) can be had just about anywhere -- fried, er, heated, mozzarella cheese sticks, chicken fingers, fried green tomatoes and coconut shrimp. I think we've all tried the cheese sticks and chicken fingers. They got them hot. And the coconut shrimp was hot but tasteless. And I found out the fruits of summer (tomatoes) are now being fried and flash frozen. We got two thin slices of green tomatoes that had been dredged in cornmeal and fried somewhere else, then heated at Main Street CafŽ. They were tasteless. Three sauces -- a good horseradish cocktail sauce, marinara and a too-spicy remoulade -- were served with the appetizers. Remoulade isn't supposed to tear the back of your throat out, but someone, somewhere added enough cayenne to do the trick.

The salads, considered a side item, were actually nice. Mixed greens were topped with a carrot curl or two, an onion ring or two and croutons; they substituted English walnuts for hothouse tomatoes -- a nice touch. But the salad dressings, served on the side in little cups, were bottled. We tried the blue cheese and balsamic vinegar dressings.

For entrees we sampled the grilled yellow fin tuna steak ($13.95). This was a standard tuna steak, frozen then heated some way. These are cut up for salads, used for sandwiches and served whole for entrees. It was the best entree we had. It was ordered well-done, which made it firm and almost beefy in texture. We ordered the veggie of the day -- we were first told peas, but then our server said the kitchen had run out of peas, and it would be fried okra. The "fried" okra came to the table as naked as the day it was picked and frozen. The okra was a little too bright to have seen hot oil. And no oil or grease was present on the plate. However it was heated, they somehow managed to get the slime out of the okra. Amazing! Maybe Main Street CafŽ's kitchen is on to something. But the other two entrees were pitiful.

The "Maryland" crab cakes ($11.95) weren't any more Maryland than the man in the moon. Two things were missing -- Old Bay Seasoning and lump crab. The two thin crab cakes we were served had a lot of filler and a little crab.

The frikadeller ($8.99) were the size of golf balls and anemic. I know they are supposed to be made with pork and sometimes blended with veal, but they also are supposed to be flattened out a bit and browned by frying to give them some flavor. Methinks they used the same frying technique they used on the okra. They were served on a bed of converted rice and were tasteless.

Desserts we sampled were nice, though: a good New York cheesecake, creamy and smooth; a fruity tasting hummingbird cake, made with crushed pineapple and topped with a dried and red-dyed pineapple slice; and a moist and rich carrot cake.

Main Street Cafe brags that it uses Starbucks Coffee, but it needs to learn how to treat Starbucks Coffee. The coffee we were served with dessert had begun its descent into sludge. It doesn't take a burner long (maybe half an hour) to ruin a pot of coffee. This definitely had passed its prime.

Our server was cheery and alert. Dinner for three, including tax but not tip, was $70.61. And the tourists keep coming.

If you ask Webster's, a bar refers to a place where alcohol and sometimes food are served.

In today's world, however, that definition, ignoring sociology, is far too restrictive. There are juice bars, dive bars, coffee bars, gay bars, wine bars. In a multicultural community, they also go by different names: a Japanese izakaya or an Irish-style pub, for instance; sometimes they are merged with a broader concept like a discoteca.

Whatever the context, what you drink, and why and where you drink it, says a lot about you and your community.

That, broadly stated, is what this column will explore monthly. From top shelf to the cheapest well, from English-speaking to bilingual, from the public counter to the private wine tasting, from the coffeehouse to the alternative music clubs, I hope to hit all of the area's venues and provide impressionistic reflections -- not reviews! -- on the experience of drinking in the Bluegrass.

Let's start at Jonathan at Gratz Park, a downtown restaurant known for its contemporary flip on local dining traditions.

The food is great, and the atmosphere conventionally semi-formal; designer jeans might feel out of place.

Most of the people I know, and there are a lot of regulars here, prefer to eat and drink in the bar, the more relaxed cousin adjacent to the dining room, where labels are cool, no one is overdressed, and the judicious use of cell phones is predictable but considerate.

I suspect that the bar's smaller scale lends intimacy, and its relaxed atmosphere further breaks the ice.

In one corner there is a muted television screen -- let's face it, whether talking basketball or horse racing, Lexington is a sports town. Apart from this fixture, and a little rock 'n' roll as the ambient music, the bar at Jonathan is a cozy cross between a bistro of simply set little tables and a clubby home library, complete with fireplace.

Three experienced bartenders, all passionate about their work, mix and pour everything from a classic martini -- gin, please, not shaken -- to tropical cocktails. Leaving aside my own such atypical preferences in clear liquor, this demographic (and seemingly the whole country) drinks vodka (Grey Goose) and, on the amber end, bourbon -- apparently the drink of the moment nationwide. How strategically convenient is that?

Such soft "statistics" notwithstanding, the fact that the full menu is available everywhere in the bar probably explains why wine is the biggest seller. The frequently changing four-page list is food-friendly and hardly intimidating, right now representing the United States, France, Australia, Germany and Italy.

By-the-glass reds and whites are in the $8-to-$10 range, and no one is unwilling to pour a smidgen to taste. The bar at Jonathan is committed to the fine dining experience. How would it be possible without a sample sip to know whether a wine will match the food? A pet peeve is the widespread assumption that decisions about wine precede those about food. Huh?

From my bar-stool perspective, the well-heeled crowd here orders lots of bottles, presumably because they know what they want and can afford it.

Because I am sitting by myself for this column, however, what I really appreciate is the selection of half-bottles (10 whites, 10 reds) that gives a world of choice to those solo or coupled customers, and is brilliantly put together by chef Jonathan Lundy's wife and business partner, Cara, to harmonize with the menu design. Try the crisp, refreshing 2005 Robert Sinskey pinot blanc; staff can suggest a dish that will do the wine justice.

The bar at Jonathan is open daily, and while reservations are not accepted at the bar itself, given the utterly unpredictable nature of dining patterns during seasonal events like the Keeneland races or University of Kentucky games, it never hurts to book a table.

Fishing and beer-drinking doesn't usually suggest an evening at the theater. About the last thing you expect to see perched on the stage are two lawn chairs and a cooler.

But that's Catfish Moon, the latest Studio Players production at the Carriage House at Bell Court.

Rife with cattails and kudzu, David Bratcher's set design of a dilapidated pier on the banks of a fishing hole is an immediate clue that we are headed deep into the holler, the sticks, the boondocks -- whatever word you prefer for an off-the-beaten-path rural setting. A bucket nailed to an old post that functions as a trash can is just one example of the kind of detail that lends a particularly convincing authenticity to this Southern tale of friendship, fun and loss.

The characters are so country that they would be at home in the audience at the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, or throwing back cans of Bud with Red State Update's Jackie and Dunlap, but the play avoids the trap of self-parody.

Southern playwright Laddy Sarton's deft use of dialect and cultural motifs, combined with Tim X. Davis' skillful direction, balances the play's fluid shifts from humor to drama and back again.

Yes, this is a rural Southern play, but it is no Hee Haw.

The play centers on Curly (James Hamblin), Frog (Christopher Rose) and Gordon (Dave Dampier), men whose shared friendship has made them like brothers. As in any family, they have their fair share of squabbles. Most of them edge toward humor, but some of them are deep, painful conflicts, especially between Frog and Gordon. When Frog discovers that Gordon has been dating Betty (Laurie Genet Preston), Frog's ex-wife (and Curly's younger sister), he violently accuses Gordon of betraying the deepest bonds of friendship.

Suddenly, Curly, who is clearly not in the best of health despite his infectious joviality, is caught in the middle of the turmoil. In the meantime, he is fixated on buying and fixing up the old lake property where most of their happiest memories took place. He decides that one last fishing trip might bring peace.

The actors do a fine job keeping their characters out of stereotype territory. Not mere rednecks, these lifelong friends have hopes, dreams, disappointments, nuances and idiosyncrasies as unbridled as anyone else's. Their relationships are complex, realistic, touching and goofy, and probably will resonate with anyone with rural roots.

Far and away the most enjoyable aspect of this play is Hamblin's dynamic performance as Curly. Most of the cast's country dialect is passable, but Hamblin's delivery, rhythm and interpretation ring with Southern accuracy. One wonders what dirt roads he had to travel to perfect Curly's speech and mannerisms.

His performance is a key factor in the play's success at highlighting the sophisticated range of human complexities that often are hidden by more simplified interpretations of Southern culture.

On the opening day of the Broadway production of The Phantom of the Opera, The Times of London wrote that when Frank Rich, aka the Butcher of Broadway, sat down to write his review for the New York Times, “his role will be somewhat peripheral, as the show is already a certified hit.”

Indeed, it had set a record for advance ticket sales, beating the previous champ, Les Miserables, by more than $5 million. It was Jan. 26, 1988, and the show was sold out into November.

Here, just 20 years short of that opening night, little has changed.

The audience piling into Louisville’s Kentucky Center for the Arts Jan. 11, for a performance that was part of a three week engagement running through Jan. 27, was breathless in anticipation of the show with several people whispering they might just sing along to the whole thing. That sort of critic proofness is pretty common in the movies. But it is something of a rare commodity in musical theater.

But familiarity can lead to a new kind of critical view.

The ship has sailed for most people on how they feel about Phantom, the show. It is something of a love it or hate it thing — though Rich and numerous other Broadway scribes, contrary to legend, were actually just cool to lukewarm.

Many people love the fantasy of it all: the spectacle, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s melodic tunes that easily take up residence in your brain and the good old tear-jerker love story. Others are put off by what they regard as simplistic, pop songwriting and a thin story that leans heavily on the aforementioned spectacle.

It is what it is. But the new questions audiences can have 20 years later are how well has the show held up, and does it still meet expectations?

Little has changed over 20 years, and that is one of Phantom’s biggest problems.

When the Phantom is leading Christine down the labyrinth to his lair, and the synthesized organ and electric drum kit kicks in for the title song, it feels like 1988 all over again. In terms of spectacle, Phantom in its day was to Broadway what Star Wars was to the movies. But, like movie technology, stage effects have also evolved, exemplified by shows like Wicked. So, some of the effects that were once so dazzling now come off as sort of quaint. In the show’s signature moment, when the Paris Opera House chandelier “crashes” to the stage, it’s amusing to watch how much the performers have to act like they are in imminent peril. In reality, as the large light fixture lumbers down from the Whitney Hall ceiling, a good hustle would get the performers out of the way.

Once all the 20 year celebrations are done, maybe Lloyd Webber and director Harold Price ought to update the production for the 21st Century.

That’s not to say everything is out of date. Maria Bjornson’s set is as sumptuous as ever, and the Phantom’s lake of light and lair live up to their billing as striking stage images. The quick shifts from the opera house stage to back stage to the stage facing out, etc., demonstrate how much can be done with curtains.

And you have to be a hardcore Lloyd Webber hater to deny the beauty and poignancy of songs such as Think of Me, All I Ask of You and Music of the Night, particularly when you hear the latter tune in context.

As the Phantom, Jason Mills is at his best unmasked, in the final scenes. Prior to that, he lets the veil work for him, and it’s somewhat difficult to see what his appeal is to Christine. But in Sara Jean Ford’s performance, we do understand there is an appeal, and she makes beautiful music. (Mills and Ford are pictured above, in a copyrighted photo by Joan Marcus, courtesy of the Louisville Broadway Series.)

The major thing hampering the Louisville engagement of Phantom is muddy sound. At many points Friday night, it would have been nice to have had supertitles — the translations of foreign texts that are projected above the stage in opera performances — to understand what was being said. And the lack of definition in the sound ruined a few moments, notably Prima Donna, one of Phantom’s most operatic tunes.

Love it or hate it, Phantom of the Opera is a legend, now the longest running show in Broadway history. The current national tour is a reminder of what all the fuss was about, but it doesn’t quite live up to the legend.

~ Did you see Phantom in Louisville? If so, post a comment, and tell us what you thought.

To begin my first restaurant review of 2008, let me explain a couple of things. I used to review restaurants for the Herald-Leader for 10 years or so. I've been off the position, due to some personal reasons, for about six years. But now I'm back, and my first review is -- surprise, surprise -- a good one, and it's a chain.

I was told of Justix -- which has only one other location, in Atlanta -- by a colleague who lives in Georgetown. She laughingly said everything is served on a stick. And so it is. Meat, fish, fowl and vegetables are grilled on sticks or skewers, much like satay or kabobs. It's healthy food served sort of fast.

Justix opened in late August in a small strip of retail spaces just east of Wal-Mart. The Google map on Justix's Web site is wrong. From Osborne Drive, turn right on Lawson Drive. It's not far beyond Gold Star Chili on the left. Its exterior and spacious interior are decorated in vivid colors of grape, cantaloupe, lime and chartreuse. Tables and chairs were well spaced. You have to go to the counter in the back of the restaurant to place your orders. Someone from the kitchen will bring your food to your table.

Healthy and low-fat was the order of the day. Where else can you find brown rice on a fast-food menu? The main courses are the skewered meats and vegetables -- beef, pork, chicken, salmon, tofu and portabella mushrooms. A sauce bar featuring 13 interesting sauces was just waiting for the sampling. I tried the "sampler stix," one grilled piece each of salmon, chicken and tofu. The salmon was great on its own, nicely charred; the chicken was improved with the lime-peanut-cilantro sauce; and the tofu -- by itself tasting as if it had some added garlic -- benefited from "Annabelle's mint and orange sauce," a wonderful mix I could have eaten by the spoonful.

I came back a few days later and tried the Southwestern chicken salad ($7.50), a great mix of chicory, radicchio, field greens, corn and onion, topped with three skewers of grilled chicken. It came with a lime-cumin vinaigrette, but I tried their bodacious blue cheese dressing from the sauce bar, too. It was intense. A side of mac and cheese (pasta shells in a creamy Parmesan sauce) and a side of roasted veggies (mostly zucchini mixed with slices of portabella mushrooms and slices of sweet red pepper) made a more than filling lunch.

The only thing I didn't like was the dessert. I had the choice of cheesecake on a stick ($1.95) or a brownie on a stick ($2.50). I sampled the cheesecake, and it wasn't much. If you can imagine dry ice cream, that's what it was like.

Two lunches added up to about $24, and it was worth it.

Slowly, slowly but surely all the same, Lexington is turning into a layered, multiethnic restaurant town. Is it immigration, globalization, the university? Whatever the reason, as diners we should be grateful for the wide array of tastes and cultures now available.

The latest offering is Istanbul Palace, a trove of Turkish delights. Not the candy, though, more like the grilled meats and vegetables found in many Mediterranean cuisines, but with their own Turkish edge.

For example, the appetizer sampler features standards like hummus; baba ghanouj; tabouli; and grape leaves stuffed with rice, onions and fresh herbs.

What was new to me was haydari, a thick cream of yogurt mixed with walnuts and fresh dill that can be spread on pita bread. The haydari was rich and salty and tempered by the nuts and herbs, and I almost spoiled my lunch by eating entirely too much of it.

On another visit, we also tried the cigarette pies, something like spanakopita, filo stuffed with feta, but instead of spinach, parsley and fresh dill.

My new absolute favorite is mujver, a pancake of chopped zucchini and other vegetables, which is pan-fried and doused with garlic yogurt sauce. Its crunch gives way to soft, perfectly seasoned veggies -- as far as I'm concerned, it's the only way we should ever eat zucchini.

On both my visits, we ordered the Palace Silver Platter. At $20.95 for two, it's a steal and features smaller helpings of many of the meats offerings. So there's the grilled beef and chicken used in gyros, a chicken kebab, hummus, mujver and salad. Also included are some more new favorites: the Istanbul chicken and the Adana kebab. The first, obviously, is chicken, the second lamb, and in both cases, the meats are hand-chopped with a spicy red pepper sauce and herbs, then reconstituted onto a kebab and grilled. All of this is served over delicious rice, and sides of onions and pickled cabbage.

We also tried the salmon kebab, grilled with big chunks of onion and green pepper, which was a little dry and didn't quite live up to the rest of the food.

I'm dying to try other dishes as well, like the Iksender kebab, a meat gyro layered on bread croutons, topped with garlic, yogurt sauce and tomato sauce.

As for dessert, the baklava was a sublime, buttery, nutty confection. We also tried the brown top pudding, which is like a less sweet, slightly harder version of flan. Delicious, rich Turkish coffee is also available.

Istanbul Palace will be a boon to St. Joseph Hospital, as it is just across the street in the small strip mall on Waller Avenue. (It looked as if there already was a brisk market in gyros and fries to go.) The interior gets past the strip mall anonymity with Turkish rugs, evil eye deflectors and gorgeous travel posters of Turkey.

Another upside to interesting ethnic food is its affordability. Gyros are less than $4, and entrees at lunch or dinner range from $9.95 to $14.95. I think we spent about $40 on both visits and took home overflowing to-go boxes because there was so much left.

Istanbul Palace also has a wide variety of salads and vegetarian options, including specialty kebabs and casseroles.

Ramsey's downtown began its life as a funky watering hole/diner that served familiar comfort food. Since its inception in 1989, the restaurant spawned four more Lexington locations (one has closed), gained praise on the Internet, and watched development rise around it. Almost two decades later, the restaurant has become a local institution.

One factor in Ramsey's success is surely its expression of the best of laid-back Lexington: a little tumbledown, creaky wood chairs, unfinished or hand painted furniture, casual service, and many photographs of old Lexington.

Another is the variety of seating options: a table by picture windows, another cozy dining room one step up, or a patio for warmer days and nights.

Combine these with an inexpensive menu of unpretentious food where prices are low and portions are large, where macaroni and cheese resides unapologetically under the heading of "veggies," and the result is an experience that is greater than the sum of its parts.

Like most people who have been in Lexington a while, I have eaten at Ramsey's many times -- in large groups for celebrations, in medium-size groups for happy hour, and as half of a party of two. I am a stalwart fan of the meat loaf and fried chicken, and simply adore the predictably delicious and frequently seasonal side dishes, aka "veggies," like fresh creamed corn or bright emerald spinach.

Somehow, though, most of my past visits have been for a gigantic brunch or after sunset, so it seemed fitting, in the name of something like a fresh viewpoint, to try Ramsey's for lunch.

At that time of day, the average price is $9 to $10 for a king-size entree that includes two vegetables. Given that you can get two meals out of that, the cost breaks down to about $5 a serving. Enormous sandwiches cost about $8 and come with one vegetable.

We ordered two sandwiches.

One was the open-face pot roast sandwich ($7.95), thick strands of brisket in gravy -- a cross between pulled meat and a stew -- served on white toast with creamy (as opposed to chunky) mashed potatoes.

Ramsey's is nothing if not accommodating, so it allowed me to turn the seasonal chicken salad into a sandwich ($7.55). Large chunks of chicken breast, tossed in mayonnaise and served with tomato, avocado and hard-boiled egg slices, made for an abundant protein rush. Next time I order this seasonal special, though, I hope the chicken will be a little more tender and the avocado a bit riper.

As usual, both side dishes were terrific. The kale was earthy and tender without being overcooked, and the stewed tomatoes were sweet and just tart enough to avoid being cloying. For the record, a plate of four veggies costs $6.60.

Stepping out the door and observing the rush of building around this most beloved of dining spots, I thought to myself how good it is that some things don't change.

Lunch for two, with two beers, was about $25.

When most people hear the word oasis, visions of a cool spring shaded by palm trees in the midst of a desert come to mind. When thinking of Oasis Restaurant in Chevy Chase, I prefer an alternative definition: something serving as a refuge or pleasant change from the usual. Specializing in eastern Mediterranean cuisine, Oasis Restaurant is a lovely change from the ordinary, offering light fare with the fresh and vibrant flavors and ingredients that make Mediterranean food so refreshing and unique.

Oasis has only about 15 or so tables, and on the Friday night that our party of five visited, we were able to walk in and sit down immediately. This was the first visit for all five of us, so we started with the two appetizers named for the place: the Oasis sampler and the Oasis dip.

The dip was baked eggplant mixed with fresh herbs, vegetables, lemon juice and olive oil, coarsely pureed and served with pita. It was tasty, although it was not hurt by the addition of a little salt from our table.

The sampler contained everything that you could want from Mediterranean cuisine: hummus, baba ghanouj, falafel, stuffed grape leaves and tabouli. From the sampler, all but one item were all refreshing and tasty; the falafel was a little bland and dry. The hummus had just the right amounts of olive oil and lemon juice and was creamy enough to allow my 8-month-old daughter to taste and give her opinion. She did not make a funny face, so we assumed she enjoyed it as much as we did.

The tabouli, one of my favorite Mediterranean dishes, is everything that region's cuisine stands for -- a mix of simple and fresh ingredients; nothing more, nothing less. Oasis' tabouli was a perfect blend of fresh parsley and mint, onions, tomatoes, couscous, lemon juice and olive oil.

For our entrees, we stayed with samplers, in a sense. My wife and I split the Oasis Platter for two, and our friends chose the mixed grill, shawarma mix and the "Oasis Dish." When our food was served, we realized why our server was acting funny at the reality of five entrees being ordered. Each was large enough to feed two except for our Oasis platter, which easily could feed three to four.

The Oasis Dish -- chunks of meat cooked in tomato sauce and mixed with eggplant, chickpeas, celery, green peppers, onions and spices -- was sweet and tasty, a bit of a Mediterranean-style stew over rice.

An item central to Mediterranean cuisine is the kabob, which we sampled heavily. On our platter were three kabobs -- one chicken, one beef and one kafta skewer, ground meat mixed with onions, herbs and seasonings, skewered and grilled -- plus chicken and beef shawarma and another small sampling of the appetizers we had on the sampler platter. Had we thought about this before ordering the platter, the sampler appetizer would not have been necessary.

Of the kabobs, the chicken was the resounding favorite in the group -- tender, tart, juicy chunks of chicken dipped in the accompanying garlic sauce drew rave reviews from all of us. The kafta was a little dry, but the slightly tangy flavor was spot-on.

As for the shawarma, meat cooked on a rotisserie and then shaved, both the chicken and beef were a little dry and possibly overcooked, but they retained the flavor of the tart marinade that Oasis apparently uses in many of the dishes we sampled.

Add all of these together and pile it on top of rice, and we had plenty of fresh and tasty food to take home for another time.

Oasis is a welcome change from the ordinary and is a nice spot to visit, especially during the summer months of plentiful fresh herbs and vegetables. Unfortunately, Oasis is currently closed for vacation, but it will reopen Aug. 3. It's worth the wait.

Dinner (and lots of leftovers) for five with tax but not tip was $90.

If you order a Kentucky hot brown at a place called Sam's Restaurant, well, really, you've been warned.

After all, a place called Sam's sitting smack on the Fayette-Scott County line conjures up blissful ideas of heaping plates of country cooking, and said hot brown is one of the richest, most fattening turkey-cheese sauce combos in existence. Nonetheless it was ordered, it was predictably overwhelming, huge and rich and really too much for mere mortals. Delicious, yes, but like a culinary song of the sirens, it led to some digestive insanity.

So that's the introduction to Sam's, although it hardly needs one. It's been sitting on that county line for more than 50 years, and its tables and booths are packed every day at breakfast, lunch and dinner. It still has 1950s-era signs from nearby stud farms, still has ashtrays on the tables, still has plates of greens cooked with fatback and waitresses who bring vinegar along with them.

In two visits, I feel like I hit some serious highlights (though the hot brown actually went to my dining companion, oh, let's just call her Amy Wilson). The first time, I got the lunch special: beans, corncakes, greens and fried potatoes. With the first bite, you step back to a better time, before we counted every calorie or every minute of our hectic days. The beans were nice and soupy, the greens succulent and garnished with a hard-boiled egg. Another friend got the Samburger, a "nearly half pound" burger with all the trimmings.

Sam's is also famous for its breakfast food, which it very kindly serves all day long. So on a second visit -- the hot brown episode, I'll call it -- I got steak and eggs, featuring a well-seasoned 4-ounce steak that tasted great in a little runny egg yolk. And of all the guilty pleasures, it also comes with those wonderful hash browns, just a patty of grated potatoes that are all crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside. Oh, and for the health conscious, some homemade biscuits.

Because Amy and I decided that if you're going to blow your calorie count, then blow your calorie count, we also got two pieces of homemade pie, coconut meringue and chocolate meringue. I think their quality could be simply described by saying that even after our entrees, we ate every bit.

Nor will anyone be surprised to hear that on two visits, we barely dented the menu's offerings. Others include fish and chips, sauteed chicken livers, breaded pork cutlet sandwich, taco salad, chicken fried steak, fried country ham sandwich, omelets, pancakes, biscuits and sausage gravy, on and on, nearly all designed to make your tummy sing and your cholesterol wince.

But not your wallet. The most expensive item on the menu is $10.99, nice old-fashioned prices to go with delicious, old-fashioned food.

It seems a truism, at least in our fair city, that when the words bar and grill appear together, the greatest emphasis is given to the word that comes first.

Cheapside, a Lexington hangout for many years with an incredibly lively patio, has always felt more about the bar -- the live music of now, recorded music of decades past, and whomever your company is -- than about the cuisine. And while there are some standouts and signature dishes, this food is designed to complement cocktails and beers rather than to be savored with a bottle of midpriced wine by candlelight.

So, while it is silly in this case to be too solemn about food, I nevertheless offer the following anecdote.

We ran into a friend on the patio one manic Friday night recently and invited him to join us, partly because we enjoy his company, partly to sample more dishes and partly because, well, Cheapside brings such spontaneous tendencies out in me.

The dinner menu is divided into "social grazing" (see what I mean?), "light and healthy," "house specialties" by the plate or dinners by the bowl, sandwiches and some sides. We visited the first four.

We all split an order of baby cakes ($7), four small, plump crab cakes with a lime-chipotle tartar sauce. While a bit lukewarm on arrival, they were crisp on the outside, tender on the inside without being doughy or mushy. Few crab cakes in restaurants ever have enough crab; they always seem stingy, and these were no exception. The dip, however, struck a perfect harmony between the citrus and heat.

I love that Cheapside does not fear spice, and handles it admirably, as demonstrated by the popular signature dish, jalapeno black bean soup ($4). This thick brew is almost a stew, packed with tender black beans and bits of country ham. You can layer additional flavors with the chopped onion, sour cream and jalapeno sherry served on the side. Corn sticks are included along with honey-chili powder butter, whose concept I like but whose execution always tastes a little too sweet and a little too much like a spread.

The smoked chicken a l'orange ($12) is a generous portion of meat baked with teriyaki orange glaze, again, very sweet. A large scoop of chunky mashed potatoes and a medley of carrots, broccoli, red and green peppers, and yellow and zucchini squash make this a balanced, if not particularly exciting, main meal.

The sole dish that was underwhelming and misnamed was Santa Fe shrimp risotto ($13): It was described as "tender shrimp sauteed with garlic, white wine and fresh lime juice, served on a bed of creamy risotto with Monterey jack cheese, green chilies and cilantro." The shrimp arrived rubbery, the rice was dry, and I detected no garlic, green chilies or cilantro; if the shredded cheese was jack, you couldn't tell.

Yet, as I read what I've just written, a part of me says: "Lighten up. If you wanted gourmet or locally grown, you'd pick another place. It's fun humming along to music, shooting the breeze, eating outside, knocking back a beer."

Because, at the end of the day, it is the delivery of those good times that is really Cheapside's "house specialty."

Dinner for three, with a few beers, including tax but not tip, was about $66.

With the end of summer approaching, students are returning to the University of Kentucky. A quintessential hole in the wall and one of the campus neighborhood's longtime landmarks, Charlie Brown's has remained unchanged for years and continues to find success with its cozy couches, dim lighting and simple bar food. Despite all the changes at UK in the past decade, Charlie Brown's, thankfully, remains the same.

Recently I had lunch at Charlie Brown's with my wife and my mother. We had all been to Charlie Brown's as students, but none of us had returned for quite some time. Entering, we felt as though we had stepped back in time - my mom to the '70s, my wife and I to the late '90s. Everything from the couches and the lighting to the books lining the walls appeared the same. Even the menu was familiar, mainly full of burgers and sandwiches, with a few other items from which to choose.

On this day we started with the beer cheese plate. It arrived promptly with crackers and freshly cut carrots and celery for dipping. As a self-proclaimed beer cheese connoisseur, I am hard to please. I will also be the first to say that Charlie Brown's recipe is creamy and cheesy with just the right amount of garlic and spices. My only complaint: The amount of cheese on the plate amounted to about four carrots' worth and should be larger.

For our main course, we all ordered sandwiches, each of which comes with your choice of a side item: fries, cole slaw, salad or soup of the day. While they chose fries, I tried the gazpacho, a chilled tomato and vegetable soup that was light and refreshing and hit the spot on a hot summer day. With quite a variety of sandwiches to choose from, we decided on three different meats: the chicken cordon bleu; Bavarian alpine, with turkey; and the prime rib.

None was spectacular, but all were good. The chicken cordon bleu was a grilled chicken breast with ham and Swiss cheese, classic and tasty. Why mess with a good thing? The Bavarian alpine is Charlie Brown's interpretation of a turkey and Swiss on rye bread -- once again, nothing fancy, just a turkey and Swiss.

As for my prime rib sandwich, I requested it be cooked rare, which seemed to present a problem. Our server was unsure whether this was possible, which defies logic; after all, the only difference is time over heat. When the sandwich arrived, she told me the kitchen tried and got as close to rare as possible. But in my experience, well done is at the opposite end of that spectrum. That said, the au jus provided moisture and flavor, and overall it was still a good sandwich.

The beauty of Charlie Brown's lies in its variety, laid-back atmosphere, and, of course, its libations. (I would be remiss if I didn't mention they make a mean bloody Mary.)

Lunch for three with one spicy bloody Mary was about $30.

Being blessed with our fair share of good and excellent Japanese dining, Lexingtonians don't need to leave home for wonderful encounters with this world-class cuisine. But suppose you found yourself in, say, Frankfort, with a craving for rice, raw and grilled fish, simmered noodles, delicate tempura and the performance art of the teppanyaki grill that Americans know as hibachi?

In that case, you would most likely find your way to Ginza III, a one-stop shop for America's most familiar icons of Japanese food, all set in a vast space holding a sushi bar, grill stations that seat large groups (often side-by-side with strangers), tables for two or more, and private tatami rooms.

To get the most from the experience, order hibachi and then supplement from the extensive menu.

For instance, while waiting for the chef to arrive with his cartful of ingredients and implements, nibble sushi rolls. Some are pedestrian, such as the California roll ($3.95), but some, such as the Kentucky roll ($12.95), are creative, abundant and worth the high price tag: with shrimp and avocado inside, then draped with tuna and yellowtail, then topped with tobiko (tiny fish roe), crunchy tempura batter and drizzled with a creamy sauce, this one item could be a meal in itself at lunch.

Or have noodle soup, another full lunch. I refer here to nabeyaki udon ($12.95). Ginza III's version is hearty, if a bit tame: in addition to the usual soft, fat udon, there are rice noodles, a meaty shiitake mushroom, bits of baby corn, broccoli, shrimp and snow peas. Traditionally, this dish is served with a raw egg on top that is cooked by the broth's heat; here, that egg is fried. A safer approach but one that loses the creamy mouthfeel of a coddled yolk.

For vegetarians, the tempura ($10.95) is a reliable, lightly battered selection of zucchini, squash, broccoli, onion and baby corn. Like all the dinners, it is served with non-vegetarian soup (a bland chicken broth), a green salad in which the odd dressing crosses thousand island and hints of tropical fruit (really), and white rice

By this time, the hibachi show has begun. It's great fun, the egg juggling, the rhythmic chopping, the joking, the extra kindnesses to children. Plus it's fast; no waiting around for cold entrees from the kitchen.

And it's a bargain: the salmon dinner, for $14.95, includes the usual soup and salad courses, two "appetizer" shrimp and (non-Japanese) fried rice made with butter and soy sauce. There are the usual vegetables -- broccoli, zucchini, onion, mushroom and carrots -- as well as the main course: two generous, but slightly dry, salmon fillets, served with two sauces, one salty and the other creamy.

So, next time you're staring at the chain-laden stretch of U.S. 127 and wondering whether there is anything at all interesting to eat, think Ginza III.

A dinner that could feed four, including drinks and tax but not tip, was about $72.

The hard part about eating lunch at Stella's Kentucky Deli is deciding what to order.

You'll face an interesting and diverse, but not too large, menu, and it's likely you'll also have rattling around in your mind enthusiastic recommendations from friends who have eaten there. And then there are the specials.

That's one reason the Saturday brunch is easier if not better. It's a buffet, so the agonizing choice comes down to how much you can justify eating, not what to order.

A friend had told me that the soups are a must-order at Stella's, and the three I tasted in my two visits confirmed that.

First, it's important to note that the restaurant's middle name, Kentucky, is not taken lightly. Stella's emphasizes the use of "fresh, local ingredients," the menu says. The soups ($2.50 cup, $3.75 bowl) testify to that. A tomato bisque had the vibrant taste of fresh, flavorful tomatoes; the dill and cucumbers were front and center in the cucumber cream soup; and the garden of vegetables that mixed in with the sausage and garbanzo beans in a third soup had the taste and texture of recently harvested produce.

It's not all ingredients, though. The soups were rich and the flavors were well-blended while preserving the distinction of the individual ingredients. Not every restaurant manages that consistently; few do in my experience.

A companion at lunch ordered a chicken salad sandwich, a special that day. She was a little put off by the purple onion in the salad, but I thought it added an it appealing and memorable piquancy. I was a little less impressed by The Big D ($5.95), a sandwich that features a local, organic bratwurst with spicy mustard and sauerkraut. Each part, including the rye bread, was good, but the balance was a little off. The mustard seemed to overwhelm the mild sausage, and the bread sagged under the kraut. Maybe a rye roll or a thicker slice of bread would stand up better. Also, I didn't order the optional Swiss cheese (75 cents extra), which might have helped smooth things out.

But that won't discourage me on future visits. The menu offers other enticing sandwich options, including the house-made pimento cheese, a fried green tomato BLT (only in season, thank goodness), a grilled PB&J ($3) and a grilled vegetable and cheese ($4.50), and a selection of burgers made with ground lamb or beef (like most of the meat-based sandwiches, $5.95 to $6.95).

The brunch is a bargain at $9, a feast of breakfast dishes done well. Striking to me was the sliced ham, an item that too often in brunch buffets is the bland mass-produced variety that you suspect came out of a can. Not at Stella's. It was real ham and tasted real good. One warning about the brunch (in addition to the overeating problem): It favors tall people. By the time you add the height of the warming devices and serving dishes laid out on the historic bar, it can be a reach to see what's offered, not to mention serving yourself.

I tried one dessert, a slice of pecan pie ($3.50). It was good, no surprise, but I especially appreciated that it was small. Stella's seems willing to overwhelm with flavor and quality not quantity, and for that it deserves praise.

During autumn my Saturdays are usually reserved for one thing: college football. Yet, recently, I was compelled to venture out of the house to Flag Fork Herb Farm for lunch.

Flag Fork is essentially a tea room and gift shop catering to a mostly female luncheon crowd. But as a happily married man with a young daughter, I have become aware of places and events not related to UK athletics. On previous visits I have been one of only two or three males in the entire place, and this Saturday was no different.

It is unfortunate that more men don't visit Flag Fork because it has some very good sandwiches and daily specials including a quiche of the day -- remember, only real men eat quiche.

At lunch, my companions and I chose bourbon and blue cheese dip as an appetizer. No surprise, as I am a sucker for anything made with bourbon, I loved it. Served with crackers, the dip was creamy and cheesy but not overwhelming, with a hint of mellow bourbon.

For our entrees we ordered chicken salad, tuna salad and BLT sandwiches.

All three were simple and straightforward. My companion's chicken salad, made with grapes, was smooth and flavorful. The chosen side -- one of two pastas of the day, with asparagus, sun-dried tomatoes and parmesan cheese with fresh basil and olive oil -- tasted light and fresh.

I ordered the tuna salad, the other pasta of the day, and a cup of homemade burgoo. I have always heard that burgoo is best when it has been cooked so long you cannot decipher the ingredients. Based on this rule of thumb, Flag Fork's burgoo recipe is a success, for I have no idea what I was eating -- I just know I liked it. The pasta special -- seafood and linguine in a light tarragon sauce -- was also delicious. Unfortunately my two sides stole the show because the tuna salad sandwich was nothing special, perhaps suffering from a little too much mayonnaise.

The BLT was served with thick, crisp slices of turkey bacon with lettuce and tomato, and fresh fruit on the side. I'm not usually a fan of BLTs, but Flag Fork's version was lighter and tastier than many I have eaten, which often arrive with bacon drippings soaking the bread.

One would be remiss to visit Flag Fork without sampling the desserts. We tried low-fat Key lime-raspberry cheesecake, chocolate pecan bread pudding and rocky road ice cream. All three were divine, but the bread pudding, with a warm vanilla-bourbon sauce, won me over after one bite.

One last piece of advice to all men out there -- if you want to score points with the woman in your life, suggest a lunch at Flag Fork. You can shop a little and enjoy delicious food without leaving the building. Now, if only they had a big-screen television set to ESPN.

Lunch for three with three beverages and desserts and tax but not tip was about $50.

This is, figuratively speaking, a tale of two restaurants. Although they look alike -- dark walls with artwork, a dangling disco ball and a twinkling bar -- one denied the enjoyment implied by the ambience and prices; and the other, with updated menus, seemed to be on the road to makeover.

On my first recent visit to the downtown landmark a la lucie, the hot creamy dip of chopped artichoke hearts and cheese ($6.75), teasingly called a "soufflé," was decadent, rich, and a nice starter that deserved something toastier and tastier than water crackers to mop up every last drop.

The second time around I ordered curried jumbo shrimp with cucumber vinaigrette ($15) -- think West Indies "jerked" shellfish meets Asian-style salad. The concept and execution were new and refreshing.

On Visit No. 1, salads were a la carte; on Visit No. 2, a few weeks later, they came with dinner.

The spinach salad ($6.95), in a large won ton shell, was scattered with slivered almonds and green onions. Its zesty rebirth includes fresh orange and grapefruit. "Caesar" salad at Lucie's seems code for "romaine" ($6.95); the one I tried had anemic croutons and almost no salt. Perhaps the fried onions that have replaced the croutons will enliven it.

While the salads accompanying the main dishes are essentially lettuce with tomato slices, the buttermilk-feta dressing, light, slightly tart and well-balanced, brings all the elements together. And this time, by contrast, plates and greens were chilled.

Now to entrees, pre-makeover:

Two grilled pork chops with pear-bourbon sauce ($19) were not the highlight of this entree, nor were the chunks of turnip, carrot, broccoli or yellow squash. The most delicious thing on the plate was the potato gratin, with a sweet base layer that resembled French onion soup (on the menu for $5.25).

The oversize Mediterranean stuffed eggplant ($15) looked like a still life: a shiny black cornucopia spilling out carrots, red bell peppers and tomatoes, broccoli, and burnished mushrooms (but no garbanzo beans as promised). The rice tasted like converted rice, not a bad thing, but without salt, butter or any other seasoning or flavor, it was terribly bland -- and there was not enough feta on top to compensate.

And for the Visit No. 2 versions:

Plump pan-fried crab cakes ($23.95) were deliciously crisp on the outside, moist and steaming hot inside. Gone was the green chili aioli in favor of a more classic caper tartare sauce; the sweet potato fries, a bit limp but a great match, remained.

The braised lamb shank ($20.95) is not new, but the side has been modified from creamy polenta to a more textured polenta cake. The lamb was fork tender, absolutely lean and falling off the bone. Its sauce, however, tasted more of meat broth than of the red wine described on the menu.

All vegetable medleys on both visits await revitalization: plain, steamed and unseasoned, they are colorful, healthy and dull.

Finally, "Miss Lucie's Lexington bread pudding" ($6) was the comfort food it should be, warm and tender with a sweet hard sauce laced with bourbon.

Given the fundamental strengths of á la lucie, the great music and fabulous bar, I am hopeful that the pizazz is being returned. Now how about a fresh coat of paint, some furniture repairs and further consideration of all the details of the 2007 dining experience?

Or, better yet, how about anticipating, as all Central Kentucky restaurants should, what that experience must be in 2010, when a whole lot of company will be coming?

A four-course dinner for two, with wine and tax but not tip, was about $86; the second meal, without wine or dessert but with salads included, cost about $63.

It's always embarrassing when some big news operation barges into our territory and tries to beat us on a story.

So, when The New York Times mentioned Melissa's Cottage Cafe in a travel piece about bourbon country, it sort of felt as if we had egg, or at least mashed potatoes and gravy, on our collective face.

But it's an easy trip to Versailles, and area diners are more likely to read to our paper than the Times, so I played catch-up.

On two recent visits, for lunch and dinner, I found Melissa's a pleasant, welcoming place that unabashedly follows its slogan of "simply Southern."

A vegetarian might leave Melissa's hungry and guilt-free, but that's not likely to happen to anyone else.

Melissa's makes a credible nod to modern concerns about calories and carbs with its salad selections, but the heart of the place is what the menu calls "hometown favorites," like meatloaf, fried chicken and fried fish. We'll discuss the desserts later.

In my lunch outing I ordered the meatloaf lunch plate.

If you like meatloaf, you will like this offering. So many meatloafs have been disappointing mishmashes of various fillers with a little ground beef swimming in fat. Not at Melissa's. The dominant ingredient is good beef, and there was no fat residue on the plate or, for that matter, any meatloaf by the time I stopped eating.

The menu refers to a "healthy portion" of meatloaf, which I assume means large in this case because, unless you weren't planning to eat again that day, the portion was beyond what a doctor might order. It's served with mashed potatoes and gravy, bread and a side, all for $7.25.

My companion, less committed to probing the Southern soul of Melissa's, ordered the chicken salad and fruit plate ($8.25). This is not a criticism, but I did think the chicken salad called into question Melissa's Southern cred. It was not sweet. It wasn't packed with diced sweet pickle or overwhelmed by heavy, sweet salad dressing. It was, in fact, good and, again, the dominant ingredient was chicken. The salad was impressive, with a selection of fresh, flavorful fruits arrayed on a bed of crisp greens.

Dinner was a little less satisfying. I ordered pork chops with spiced apples ($11.25). The chops were overcooked and tough. After a few bites I switched to the serrated bread knife to get through the meat without rattling the table. The corn pudding I ordered as a side was a little dense and could have done with more corn.

One of my companions ordered a hamburger, cooked medium, but it arrived well-done. A shame because, again, it tasted like quality beef that would have been delicious with a little pink in the middle.

The hit of the evening was the fried catfish ($7.50). This was so nicely done that it made me sorry I hadn't tried the fried chicken, too. The French fries with the fish and burger, though, didn't have quite the homemade quality of Melissa's best offerings.

The dessert offerings are abundant, both in number and serving size. In my visits I tried two of the pies, and both were good. A pumpkin pie with caramel sauce was a bit too sweet for my taste but otherwise couldn't be faulted. The rhubarb and berry pie with ice cream was a great balance of flavors and textures. In each case one dessert was enough for the table, and then some.

A few final notes: Try the cornbread. It's really a flatcake cooked on the grill, crisp around the edges. The service and atmosphere were generally good, but a pesky fly at dinner detracted from our enjoyment. There is a very limited offering of beers and only one wine choice. Be prepared to be called "hon," but that's OK.

As hunger called and stomachs turned on the twisty roads of Owen County, some grumbling arose in our car about who would want to drive all the way to Elk Creek Vineyards Café for a meal. When we came out of yet another sharp curve without a sign of the café, doubters wondered, where is it anyway?

All that changed when we made that final turn and came across the impressive form of the huge lodge that comprises the winery, the cafe, the tasting room and an art gallery. As we arrived on a clear winter day, the scene was breathtaking. The lodge, which would fit in at a tony Western ski resort, overlooks steep hillsides lined with vineyards. Were we really just an hour from Lexington?

There were no disappointments inside. The lodge takes advantage of its situation, with huge windows overlooking the vines and the remarkable landscape.

The café, really more of a deli, is a relaxed affair. You order at a window and then choose your table. The menu is fairly small and straightforward. It includes five salads ranging in price from $4.99 to $7.99 (all of which can be enhanced with grilled chicken breast or salmon for an additional $2.99) and a selection of seven sandwiches, ranging in price from $5.49 to $6.99. There's also a soup and sandwich of the day each day.

You can while away the wait until lunch is delivered to your table by enjoying the atmosphere, admiring the views, taking in the artwork on the second level or tasting wine.

I ordered the soup of the day, a vegetable beef, which was nice on a December day but hardly a standout. No one in our party chose a salad, but we did try a selection of the sandwiches, including the vegetarian offering, the Napa veggie combo. It was hard to go wrong with the colorful combination of feta cheese, olives, greens, cucumber, tomato, red onion and roasted red peppers. I tried what's called the Tuscan meat combo, a collection of Italian lunch meats with mozzarella and standard veggies (lettuce, tomato, pepperoncini, etc.). It was enjoyable but, again, not memorable, and I was thirsty all afternoon from the salt overload. Our party also tried the vineyard club, a tasty sandwich dominated by smoked turkey that also includes bacon, havarti cheese, lettuce, tomato and chipotle mayonnaise.

All of the sandwiches were generous servings but not so huge as to inspire guilt or gluttony. Elk Creek wines were available at lunch but, facing those windy roads on the return, we opted for bottled water and tea.

Lunch for four, without tip, was $38. It was a glorious day, so we took a short walk through the vineyards, past the pond and down to the amphitheater. The property also includes a hunting lodge, which was busy that day, and a separate lodgelike building housing a bed and breakfast.

So, was it worth the trip? Yes. The meal alone wouldn't draw me that far, but the winery is well worth the stop on a day of touring the area or a detour on a pretty day's trip to Cincinnati or Northern Kentucky.

The grand doors open like a Disney moment to a promise of splendor. Everything is lit up like a Christmas tree during this holiday season -- a harbinger of an evening of exceedingly professional service (courtesy of longtime waitstaff member Ron Bradley) that is non-intrusive while blending dignified erudition with approachable formality, in a room of hushed lighting, with food and drink whose high-end tab is commensurate with the high ceilings and elaborate chandeliers.

But what else should one expect from an expensive dinner in a mansion?

For one thing, a menu with ingredients and execution that stretch the diner's imagination and the kitchen's talents. For another, demanding standards of excellence and attention to detail. And finally, an impeccable wine.

So, is The Mansion at Griffin Gate Marriott Resort and Spa, like its Disneyian entrance, the "happiest place on earth"?

It is, when you're nibbling the amuse-bouche, which on this visit was crostini with a dollop of lobster salad sprinkled with chives, like a riff on a Maine lobster roll, sweet with shellfish and mayonnaise. After that, some moments were happier than others.

Among the first courses, a heavenly creamy turnip soup was poured with dramatic flourish over a walnut croquant (a nutty confection), a bit of poached pear and a slice of seared foie gras ($13), all an homage to fall's fleeting bounty. The Mansion's new, and distinguished, executive chef Nicolas Trueblood's concept was lovely -- rich mouth feel, followed by sweetness and complex textures with a crunch here, a melting bite of pear there. Almost perfect, save for the overseared foie gras that lost its cloudlike quality and took on a slight aftertaste of burnt liver.

Another appetizer unique to The Mansion was the wide pappardelle noodles, tinted with saffron, topped with tomato ragout containing tiny morsels of lobster and braised oxtail ($15). This dish needed work: The pasta was gummy because it was too thick, and the meat had some dry, stringy strands among others that were fork-tender.

Between courses appeared a palate cleanser of lemon ice that was more ice than lemon.

No complaints, though, about the buttery roasted sea bass, served with simple half-moons of charred cipollini onions, pinto bean purŽe, dots of cr�me fra”che and refreshing leaves of cilantro salad ($36). All nice, and all just enough.

Slices of grilled venison, cooked medium, paired beautifully with chestnut purŽe, a Brussels sprout gratin, Trumpet Royale mushrooms from France and an apple cider gastrique (a sweet-tart reduction made with sugar and vinegar or tart fruit juice) ($36). I am never happier than in a restaurant that honors seasonality. Only the presentation was wanting: The purŽe and gastrique appeared to have been randomly tossed on the plate, rather than achieving the abstract and casual effect that I think was wanted.

Rumor has it that The Mansion's cr�me bržlŽe is delicious, but peach bread pudding with caramel sauce ($6) seemed like the perfect cozy dessert to share -- and it was.

About the wine list -- I am just baffled. In an exacting environment, typos are a shock (Beringer is missspelled as Berringer, and online, Rhone was spelled "Rone"). And sometimes, rarely, vintages were given. What were the criteria? Beats me.

There is still something splendid about dining in Old World elegance, particularly if you surrender to the opulence and world-class service. But The Mansion falls just short of being a "magic kingdom" because, at these prices, one expects perfection.

Dinner for two, including four glasses of wine and tax but not tip, was about $158.

Barbecue, nectar of the meat gods, provokes a lot of passion in folks. People travel the byways for the perfect cut or sauce, argue over North Carolina versus Memphis or coleslaw versus none.

I like it all: vinegary, sweet, hot, mild. It's not food I can eat very often, but once in a while it's fun to really wallow in a pigfest.

We usually end up at Billy's, mostly because it's close and has onion rings to die for. But I was really happy to stumble into Applecreek Barbecue, a small storefront off Pasadena Drive.

The house sauce is tangy and sweet, an accent that I happen to love, especially when combined with coleslaw on top -- as it was with the first pulled-pork sandwich I tried.

Apparently, two of the most popular side dishes are the sour-cream potato salad, as rich as advertised -- so rich, in fact, that I couldn't follow it. The baked beans also are a favorite -- rich and meaty, with their own slightly sweet tang.

Another time, I ordered one of the family feasts, which seemed like a pretty good deal. For $41.99, you get a huge rack of ribs, three servings of meat -- we chose pulled pork, pulled chicken and beef brisket -- and three pint-size sides, green beans, cole slaw and baked beans.

Yes, it was a lot of food, but somehow we managed to eat most of it. The chicken is less smoky than the pork, but very, very tender. The ribs were packed with meat that flaked off the bone in chunky bites, with a nice rub of spices. The ribs come with the regular barbecue sauce, a hotter sauce and a hot bourbon barbecue that wasn't as sweet but packed a kick.

After all that pork, though, my favorite was the beef brisket, lean strips of buttery meat that provides such a nice counterpoint to its richer peers.

The green beans were spicy and a little too salty, but the baked beans lived up to the hype.

And speaking of hype, we finished with the house's fried apple pies: light, crisp dough filled with scalloped, cinnamon apples.

Most people get takeout, but there are a few tables in front of the counter if you want to stay to eat. In addition, you can pick up a wide range of jams, jellies and sauces from Applecreek Farms, the products made by owner Buddy Hall. To see the full range, go to www.applecreek.net.

Sandwiches are $3.99 and platters with one meat and two sides are $8.50 to $21.99.dining

Hunan is a clean, cozy place with spanking bright walls, good distance between booths and tables, and pretty lanterns. It invites lingering, in spite of the sometimes manic speed of service, so dedicated that conversations aren't spared interruption.

But I've noticed on both recent visits that the restaurant does a brisk take-out business as well, and I can see why: Everyone is tremendously nice, nothing is overly salty, the portions are enormous and the prices reasonable. The large menu includes popular vegetarian items, such as kwachi, a soy-based product made to taste like chicken, as well as non-Chinese pad Thai.

I have just one question: Why is it called Hunan?

This south-central region of China is famous for spicy food. Most dishes use a judicious dose of dried red chilies, with garlic, ginger and some member of the onion family not far behind. The result is a highly seasoned cuisine that balances fire and flavor.

Lexington's Hunan seems to cater to the conservative American palate, and in this often sacrifices its own identity. While the produce and rice are fresh and nothing is greasy, look elsewhere for authentic ethnic dining. Here, the chilies appear to be primarily garnish or sparingly added in sauce at the last minute, and I did not notice a sliver of garlic or fresh ginger in any of the "spicy" dishes I've tried.

That said, my favorite item has been the refreshing hot and sour cabbage ($3.25). Homemade, this is the Chinese riff on coleslaw, with just the right amount of crunch in the skinny strands of cabbage and carrots, as well as a nice harmony of hot, tangy and sweet in the dressing,

The steamed pot stickers ($4.95), filled with ground meat, were tender but under-seasoned, and, with fairly thick dough, more reminiscent of a Central Asian dumpling.

These together easily could have made a balanced dinner for two for less than $10.

If you really want a bargain, however, go for the three-course "family dinner" ($13.95 a person).

The hot and sour soup, in spite of being more gentle and sweet, was abundant with mushroom and tofu and a hearty way to begin.

The scrumptious cabbage was included in the appetizer course, which included greaseless egg rolls and deep-fried shrimp.

There are more than a dozen main-course choices. The almond chicken was delicious, with a hint of garlic, almonds, breast meat, peas, diced carrots, mushrooms and zucchini. Empress shrimp, which claims to be hot, was more like sweet and sour, but beautiful with crinkle-cut carrots, zucchini, water chestnuts, broccoli, green beans and plump shrimp.

Indeed, all of Hunan's dishes are vibrant rainbows of color. Among the prettiest were the vegetables in garlic sauce ($7.55) with garden-fresh zucchini, yellow squash, carrots, green beans, broccoli, mushrooms -- and I'll wager more on any given night, depending on what is in the kitchen. Stir-fried and al dente, everything was bathed in a light sauce that let the flavors stand out, even if it was sorely in need of garlic.

I also sampled mu shu pork ($8.95), the do-it-yourself wraps with Chinese crepes and a stir-fried filling of mushroom, egg and scallions with hoisin sauce on the side; and a hearty and gorgeous eggplant in garlic sauce ($8.95) with pork.

Hunan -- friendly with the customers, generous with the portions and convenient in location and parking -- has earned its reputation as one of Lexington's venerable independent restaurants. The only additional ingredient I would want is more authenticity.

Dinner for two, with lots to take home and two beers, cost about $45.

Jonathan at Gratz Park is one of Central Kentucky's most well-known restaurants, but I had never visited. Knowing that chef Jonathan Lundy takes great pride in using local ingredients, I was eager to see what he could accomplish as we approach the colder months. It didn't take long for me to realize what all of the fuss is about.

My wife and I met some friends on a recent Friday evening, choosing to dine in the English pub room as opposed to the main dining room. While both serve from the same menu, the pub room was a better fit for an informal evening with friends. After ordering wine from the extensive list, we chose pot stickers and "oyster skins" special for appetizers. While the pot stickers were too salty for our liking, the oyster skins -- potato skins topped with a fried oyster and pimento cheese -- were unique and sinfully delicious. I could almost feel my cholesterol rising but couldn't care less.

For the salad courses we chose fried green tomato salad, warmed Saga blue cheese salad and Kentucky hot slaw. Of the three, the fried green tomatoes were in good shape considering the season, but the buttermilk dressing suffered from a lack of flavor. My favorite was the slaw. It had thick slices of cabbage and peppers simmered in a mustard and bacon dressing that was slightly tart -- a smart twist on a standard mustard-based slaw. The blue cheese salad was a warmed wedge of Saga blue cheese that oozed over candied walnuts, apples and mixed greens.

When ordering our entrees, we had some tough decisions because no one wanted to order the same dish. After working out our differences we decided on Kentucky bison brisket, skillet-blackened salmon, mushroom-dusted beef tenderloin, and vegetables and dumplings. Each was fantastic in its own way.

The bison brisket, while tasty and flavorful, suffered from a lack of moisture, perhaps because bison is a leaner animal. The accompanying sweet potato hash added a touch of autumn and rounded out this hearty meal nicely.

The skillet-blackened salmon -- a staple at Jonathan, we were told -- was served over a soybean succotash and a fluffy crawfish corn pudding -- both classic Southern sides with a Lundy twist.

The beef tenderloin, was, believe it or not, simple and straightforward: beef tenderloin over mashed potatoes with mushrooms, asparagus and a simple demi-glace. Sometimes it's best to leave well enough alone.

As for the vegetables and dumplings, I was pleasantly surprised. The potato dumplings with root vegetables and a brown butter sauce was one of my favorites of the evening. And when my wife couldn't finish it, I was quick to request a box -- the only one for the evening, which should tell you something.

I would be remiss not to mention the flaming bourbon creme brulee. A sucker for anything with bourbon, brulee and flames, I couldn't pass on this dessert. The great taste was simply an added bonus.

Clearly all of Jonathan at Gratz Park's accolades are well-deserved. The food -- dishes with a few twists here and there -- is unique.

Dinner for four with wine and tax but without tip was about $250.

Jimmy Duggan is a born and bred Bostonian and professional foodie who stopped in Lexington for a few months of work and ended up liking it. A lot. So much, in fact, that he's brought his Northern cuisine to the Leestown Road corridor with Jimmy D's East Coast Cafe.

So the name is the first clue that Jimmy D. is "not from around here," as some like to say. Other clues include "grinders" instead of subs, fast service and some very sharp combinations. It's nothing fancy, but it's definitely a step above your average sandwich shop.

Many of the sandwiches come with a nice twist. At a big group lunch with co-workers, we tried, for example, grilled turkey panini with a spinach artichoke spread that added a great bite to a sometimes bland combination. The muffuletta had just the right combination of ham, cheese and salami. The Reuben, a test of any sandwich shop, passed muster with ease.

On the other hand, the veggie sandwich was good but not quite hot enough. The daily special was lasagna, ordered by a Jimmy D's fan, who said it was the only time he's been disappointed there, because of the lasagna's blandness. (He says he's going to stick with his favorite: the sausage, onion and pepper grinder.) The chicken parmesan grinder was good but not breathtaking, although there were many compliments on the quality of the bread.

My companions and I went with more complicated choices, but there are plenty of straight-up deli offerings, like a hot pastrami with mustard or a cold meatloaf sandwich.

Jimmy D's is open only during the day, but it serves breakfast with good biscuits and freshly made scrambled eggs. The breakfast burrito of bacon, egg and cheese was delicious, and the coffee and grilled potatoes were definitely above par.

As someone who thinks there can never be enough sandwich places, I think Jimmy D's make a great addition to Lexington; judging by the lunch crowd there, plenty of people agree. It's a casual place: You order and then find a seat, but the service was speedy, so it allows for quick lunch breaks.

Sandwiches, which come with chips, range from $4.75 to $6.95. Everything on the breakfast menu is $3.99 or less.

MIDWAY --
This Woodford County burg has long since made its name on the restaurant scene, offering more than charm and a quaint small-town atmosphere. Among the mainstays in Midway's thriving culinary tradition is Bistro La Belle.

You probably will find two things difficult at Bistro La Belle. Parking is likely to be a challenge because downtown Midway is so busy in the evenings, full of people drawn in by the many food and entertainment offerings. And, because this restaurant is open for dinner only four nights a week, you might find it a little challenging to work it into your schedule. I did, but it was worth it.

Generally speaking, it is clear Bistro La Belle is not on autopilot. The menu is small and interesting; there are some surprises, even where the standards are concerned. Things I didn't order but that intrigued me included the sweet potato ravioli appetizer, pork loin on sweet pepper-basil polenta, and shrimp and grits.

But with the time and budget for only one visit, some things had to be, wistfully, eliminated. My companion and I settled on a couple of appetizers, a special of shiitake mushrooms (from local producer Sheltowee Farms) on crostini and Caesar salad.

The salad first. I often order a Caesar salad on review trips because it is a cooking barometer for me. It's my experience that a Caesar in most restaurants is little more than some chunky Romaine lettuce with croutons and mediocre Romano cheese grated on top, all drowned in a thick industrial dressing. No anchovies, no subtlety. Not so at Bistro La Belle. We didn't see any anchovies, but the flavor was there in the dressing that the menu says (and I believe) is made on site. The salad included Romaine and baby spinach, and the croutons were fresh and garlicky. Try it; you'll know what this salad is supposed to be.

But even that very satisfying salad was trumped by the mushrooms. Local, fresh, very flavorful and cooked perfectly, these were great. It was a special, but I notice that Sheltowee mushrooms seem to turn up regularly on the menu. Don't miss them.

We weren't quite so lucky with the entree special of sea scallops served on a bed of black beans. Scallops can be wonderful when they are fresh and cooked just right. Although rich, they have a very delicate, almost sweet, flavor. The kitchen didn't do quite so well by these huge, fresh scallops. They were just a little overcooked, which diminished the texture and flavor, and the black beans just weren't the right accompaniment. The chef might have been going for contrast, but what we got was a fight between the dish's elements.

The duck, a regular offering, was another matter. A roasted half duck with sweet Thai chili glaze, it was a success. The skin was crisp, the meat was moist and tasty, and the glaze held its own with this full-flavored fowl. Served on fried wild rice with sautŽed baby spinach, the whole dish worked.

Pretty well satisfied, we choose to share a dessert. We selected bread pudding, which was a nice wintertime treat. Rich, almost creamy, it was laced with bourbon and quite delightful.

Some final notes: A small pet peeve is that the Web site is hard to find and not exactly up to date. The specials menu posted this week was for Nov. 7. Many restaurants fail to update their sites regularly, thereby giving up the key advantage of the Internet -- immediacy.

The servings were generous but not overwhelming, a nice break from the laden plates too common these days. Service was excellent, efficient but not obtrusive. The wine list is reasonably priced and interesting.

Dinner for two, without wine and tip, was about $80.

For a respite from the holiday sales and the yearly bombardment of television commercials with slogans like "Duh," look no further than A Laura Ingalls Wilder Christmas at Lexington Children's Theatre.

A tender tale more tenderly rendered, LCT's holiday offering is a warm, heartening celebration of the deep bonds of family that triumph in the face of material and psychological adversity.

If you haven't read The Little House on the Prairie series of children's books, the Ingallses were a real family whose pioneer life was chronicled by second daughter Laura Ingalls Wilder. (The books inspired the long-running TV show Little House on the Prairie.)

Playwright Laurie Brooks stays true to the spirit of Wilder's work, crafting a story that deftly weaves humor, sadness and the triumph of a family's love in the face of chores, bullies, measles and even death.

A pioneer family slowly forging its way west in 1876 Iowa, the Ingallses include Ma, Pa and their three daughters: Mary, Laura and Carrie.

The play's structure is a bit unconventional, almost backwards, in that it opens with a tragedy and works its way toward a healing.

We first hear the Ingallses before we see them. Singing a hymn, In the Sweet Bye and Bye, the family emerges in a sad processional towards a tiny grave to bury "Baby Freddie."

Director Octavia Fleck deserves praise for tailoring an opening scene that is so beautifully timed and so authentic that the audience feels like a voyeur into a very real, very private moment in a family's grief. The lack of dialogue, the cracked voices that break the rhythm of the hymn, and the silent, tender gestures of comfort and shared sorrow convince us that this could be, and was, a real family with obstacles not entirely unlike our own.

After the burial, the family backtracks from its westward path and lives in a hotel in a nearby town to save money for another trip west. Pa (Daniel Nation) begins working so much that he seldom has time for Laura. Ma (Kristen Smiley) sinks into such a deep depression that attention to her living children is eclipsed by her mourning for the one she lost.

Laura ends up facing some things alone, including bully Johnny Steadman (Daniel Phillips) and her jealousy of his fancy sled. She also befriends a rich woman, Mrs. Starr (Laurel Green), who becomes so enamored with Laura that she wants to adopt her.

It seems as if the whole family is coming apart, losing the joy in the bonds that kept them together for so long.

The material seems heavy in writing, but in action it is well-balanced. Laura's own curiosity and humor add a bit of levity to the family's conflicts without making a joke of them. Void of obvious, over-the-top "drama," this show presents itself gently, organically, like real life passing in its natural course.

Kirsten E. Moore's clever scenic design and Adam Spencer's light design lend a rustic authenticity to the Ingallses' family life, with the suggestion of the open sky of the west ever looming for them to explore.

The main set piece is a wagon that is easily converted to a bed, a kitchen sink, a barn and a fancy sitting room. Its versatility allows for quick scene changes, but more than that, its shifting shape works in concert with the actors' blocking to visually convey the family's dynamics. For instance, the family takes up the far corners of the stage during a buggy ride at the beginning of the play, after the infant's death. At the end of the play, after much healing and resolution, they undertake another buggy ride, this time westward, and they are all inside the wagon, close and together.

The technical elements of this production are artful and inviting, but much of the play's success hinges on the timing and delivery of the young cast's performances. Julia Seales, Kelsey Waltermire and Alicen Abler are enchanting as Mary, Laura and Carrie, respectively. They all score dangerously high on the cute scale (particularly Alicen, whose cuteness level might be lethal), but what is most impressive about their ensemble work is their visceral sense of character. One gets the feeling that these young ingŽnues are more than "playing" their characters on the surface level, but that they "get" them on a deeper level.

Along with their grown-up counterparts, they flourish under Fleck's skillful, easygoing direction.

The result is a cohesive flow of moving, refreshing and ultimately uplifting moments that never descend into sap or caricature. Duh, is there anything better you could give your family for Christmas?

While you're checking off names on your holiday shopping list the next few weeks, take a look at the salespeople and clerks at the shops you go to.

A lot of them are in love.

Some of them might even be in love with one another, but many have a special someone somewhere. They could be high school or college sweethearts, two people whose eyes met across a crowded room or lonely hearts who answered each other's personal ads. Most couples probably have that story of the great big moment they fell into an all-consuming love.

Maybe that's why we don't know She Loves Me better. It's not a big grand love affair of royalty or adversity.

The musical comes from the Fiddler on the Roof team of lyricist Sheldon Harnick and composer Jerry Bock, with a book by Cabaret scribe Joe Masteroff. The modest European perfume shop where She Loves Me is set seems a world away from Fiddler. But as in that beloved musical, these are modest working people who populate the shop. They work 9 to closing, then go home to their loved ones or, in the case of Georg and Amalia, to the paper and pens with which they write letters to their unknown sweethearts. The Georg and Amalia in the shop hate each other; the Georg and Amalia who write letters are madly in love.

Think you've seen this?

Well, the 1963 Broadway musical was preceded by Miklos Laszlo's play Parfumerie, the 1940 Jimmy Stewart-Margaret Sullavan movie The Shop Around the Corner and the 1949 Judy Garland-Van Johnson musical In the Good Old Summertime. The story was last seen as the Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan e-mail romance, You've Got Mail.

The success of this story has been as modest as its setting. But it's that modesty that keeps bringing writers, composers and audiences back to the tale.

Most of us will never have the torrid, majestic romances of Scarlett O'Hara or Rick Blaine. But we could see ourselves in Georg and Amalia. We could really see ourselves -- save for the whole thing of being sublime singers and charming actors -- in the performances of Carmen Geraci and Marina Jurica in the Actors Guild of Lexington production of the play, in association with Paragon Music Theatre.

Even in roles such as Prospero in the Lexington Shakespeare Festival's 2004 production of The Tempest, Geraci has established himself as an Everyman with a big heart. And Jurica is very adept at being a girl next door -- though it is funny that at one point she's told, "you're not a beauty contest winner," considering she is a former Miss Los Angeles County. The soprano has a few big-voice show stoppers, but the moments that make this role work for her are a desperate play for a job and a scene where she starts shoving ice cream into her mouth. We know these people.

With Geraci and Jurica, director Michael Friedman pairs two of the strongest talents in Paragon's recent shows. She Loves Me is also one of the best fits the company has had for the Downtown Arts Center, though it's still a dissatisfying place to see a musical. Music director Ryan Shirar has worked through a variety of ways to put instrumentalists in the black box theater. This time he, woodwind player Sonny Burnette and percussionist Aaron Graham are seated to the audience's left of the stage, with Shirar playing an electronic keyboard. It makes for a tinny, thin sound, particularly in the piano's lower notes. Shirar is a musician whose talent deserves a better setting than this.

Diana Evans' choreography is, for the most part, as modest as the show. A few sequences, seemingly meant to show the craziness of life, break that mood, though. Those moments seem calculated or are chaotic in ways that probably are not intended.

But you leave this charming show with a sense of warmth, the kind you have when a friend falls in love, and you know it's with Mr. or Ms. Right.