By Jim Duncan CVFDude@aol.com

Dish's entire non-smoking, single room is visible from the front door, revealing a minor miracle - no bad tables. The transparent post-modern design features a swank bar, itself accentuated by wire-suspended shelving. Six-person booths and bar tables are divided in proportion to human preferences for privacy and/or the public eye. Even the booth closest to the kitchen fits around a wall, making that location a blessing rather than a detraction. It's easy to take such democratic designs for granted, but it is the first sign of great service and one of the most difficult tricks in the business. Impressed, we called architect Todd Hotchkiss. Ironically, Hotchkiss said he didn't want his name associated with Trostel's Dish, because the restaurant owners had altered his plans. Whatever. Dish got it smack right.

Dish opened to great buzz last October. It was tabbed best new restaurant of the year in this column, where I added that it was also the best new joint to pop up since I began covering the local beat. Amazingly, I received no disgruntled mail about that, probably because Dish avoids the patronizing attitude that can accompany instant success. The transparent design is a big part of that. The bar is focal. So few people mind waiting for a table. Trostel's Greenbriar perennially wins Wine Spectator awards and if anything the owners sweeten the pot here, without raising the ante. Dish's wine list has good values for every budget, even a Las Rocas de San Alejandro, the inexpensive, small-batch, kirche-nosed grenache that is currently the darling of the wine media. Martinis rule here, and Tuesday nights bring special prices and all Dean Martin music.

Troy Trostel's menu comes with Spanish tapas inspiration. World geography divides it into six sections, but it's easy to order more traditionally. Servers have consistently delivered plates in appropriate order - though managers modestly claim dumb luck. Again, whatever. No one makes better soup, beginning with a brilliant original that marries Iowa's tall corn to the Eastern seaboard - posole clam chowder, with hominy, littlenecks, bacon and smoked jalapenos. A tortilla-hay soup adds chicken stock, meat, cilantro and avocado. The French onion, with gruyere, and tom yum gai, with fresh lemongrass and coconut milk, are traditional.

Thin crust pizza makes a fine second course. The wild mushrooms with Fontina and the Graziano sausage matched with La Quercia prosciutto provide original local styles, while Greek and Margherita pies keep traditional values.

Cold plates include a fine charcuterie with a pate (not made in house), mortadello, salami, olives, hard and soft cheeses, roasted peppers and artichoke hearts. Edamames were served with an interesting smoked sea salt and soy - but eating them together seems like an arcane drinking game. Ahi came barely seared (as ordered) in sesame with sticky rice, pickled ginger, wasabi and black bean vinaigrette. Spinach salad brought tender winter leaves, in Troy's marvelous champagne-cranberry dressing.

The best hot plates included fried chevre, in a honey and red onion relish; pommes frites, addictively stacked and truffle-drizzled; veal osso buco, braised in sherry and served with wondrous salsify; macaroni and cheese (house-recommended) with three cheeses, chicken and truffle oil; and an artichoke popsicle with fried chevre-stuffed hearts. Lamb chops, two ways, and prime rib, five ways, rank with the best served in Iowa.

I experienced two misses. The ceviche had a tacky affair with tomatoes. And the short ribs sold their soul to the sweet-tooth fairy. The dessert menu is short, and by the book (are pumpkin cheesecakes compulsory now?). For a final course, I prefer ordering off the dinner menu, namely the medjool dates, stuffed with manchego and wrapped in prosciutto.

Food news

Former Younker's Tea Room pastry chef Gary Holmes is now at 25th Street Cafè, where the opera tortes could raise Aida from her death scene. CV

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