It's cheering when good locations finally happen to good restaurants. When Ted and Kim Monahan opened Woody's in an airy high-ceilinged basement in Westerly seven years ago, it got popular pretty quickly, starting modestly with breakfasts and lunch, eventually venturing into dinners. The place seemed likely to stay there. But leases are not forever, and after a yearlong hiatus Woody's moved to Narragansett in 1996. It's a smaller space, with seating for not much more than two dozen, but the intimacy suits the style of the offering: fine dining that treats you as comfortably as the food.

Woody's has found the scale and style that befits chef Monahan and his loyal customers. No more breakfasts -- the purgatory of the restaurant business: time-intensive and inexpensive -- or sandwich-oriented lunch service to keep a big barn of a space busy. He decided to serve just dinners, like a violin virtuoso who got serious and gave up his wedding gigs.

I can't offhand think of a restaurant with a more pleasant atmosphere designed to complement a fine meal. The small front dining room has white walls with light green trim, a bright combination that gives a sunlit impression even at night, with votive candles on each bistro-style paper-topped table. Gold-painted wall niches, lit from below, illuminate paintings of pears. I was amused at the subliminal touch of stainless steel lining the room's entryway, giving a sleek and clean feeling. Balancing that touch is the warmth and wildness of vine-like tendrils sprouting tiny red berries. One winds around a chandelier that holds candles rather than electric lights.

The restaurant is non-smoking, of course, with its cozy confines. The intelligence of the wine list is indicated by the presence of three dozen reds and fewer whites; our hosts don't feel bound by the common and arbitrary need to approximate the offerings.

The appetizers are listed on the menu as tapas -- an invitation to nosh on some of the eight choices (including two pizzas) and three "greens" (salads) in lieu of entrées. Many of the items are Italian, usually Tuscany-inspired, such as roasted shrimp with sun-dried tomatoes ($9.99). But Monahan could not resist including a favorite of his -- a quesadilla with chipotle-lime crème fraîche. Missing is the Tuscan bread salad we'd enjoyed previously, but equally appealing was an antipasto called a meze ($8.37). (Menu prices here are the oddest things: $15.23, $16.84, etc. Any notion that they're set to come out even when sales tax is added vanishes with a little multiplication.)

The meze was delightful. Flavor combinations were rewarding to experiment with: the especially flavorful marinated red pepper with a piece of eggplant; the smoky grilled portobello with the delicate chèvre; and so on. A pile of hot, grilled pita wedges was especially welcome with the white bean puree. What a tasty homage to the Greek influence on Italian cuisine. (Meze is Greek for appetizer.) The soup of the day, corn chowder with seared sea scallops, was as good as it sounds and not cloying with cream.

Including specials, there are only about a dozen main dishes from the one-chef kitchen. But there are meatless dishes and two kinds of steaks, so no one should leave hungry. The obligatory inexpensive chicken dish ($14.97) is not only free-range but also "brick-seared." (Beats me, too, but sounds succulent.) Johnnie chose the fish of the day, baked cod ($21). It was pan-seared, which left it crispy outside and still moist inside, enhanced by a chunky tomato broth. Like my pistachio-encrusted spring lamb ($20.41), the featured component came atop "wild greens," including radicchio and what I took to be baby bok choy, and "smashed potatoes." The potatoes were dreamy, the buttery sort that make you neglect fancier things on your plate. My lamb was medium-rare, as requested, and pomegranate enhanced the juices nicely.

Service was attentive and courteous, although I was surprised that a visit with a crumb scraper apparently isn't part of the routine, even though the hot rolls are so hard-crusted. However, the kitchen-made desserts at Woody's make up for anything: apple crustada, crème brûlée, individual chocolate cakes with raspberry sauce. We split a pot de crème ($5.67) and were pleased. The cinnamon-sprinkled whipped cream on top is unsugared, inviting you to have it with the milk-chocolate custard below so that it averages out to moderately sweet. Sensible.

Despite its informal name, Woody's has found a culinary audience that appreciates its class act. Thank goodness it seems to be here to stay.

Bill Rodriguez can be reached at billrod@reporters.net.

Issue Date: December 28, 2001 - January 3, 2002