Despite the frigid weather, romance was in the air as we stepped into Restaurant Bouchard on a recent Saturday evening. Tiny white lights twined through artificial grapevines in the small-paned side windows and across the imposing wooden mantelpiece. An Old World flavor permeated the two small dining rooms, where most tables have heavy brocade or flowered underskirts, their edges caught up in a round knot to avoid tripping customers. Chairs, in a variety of styles, have wide, upholstered seats. White linens and flowered plates, small pleat-shaded lamps and stems of fragrant Scotch broom completed the feeling of having stepped into a place where we would be pampered.

As indeed we were. From the filtered water -- such a necessary alternative to the poor-tasting Newport water -- and the hot-out-of-the-oven homemade rolls to the extra sauce, potato puff, and colorful garnish that were added to my take-home portion of Dover sole, we felt surrounded by a sense of elegance, but not pretentiousness. And that certainly carried over to the food.

Despite the soft sibilants and muted vowels that drifted over to me from two oh-so-French host/waiters, the restaurant's chef-owner, Albert Bouchard, is American-born, -bred, and -trained, at the Culinary Institute of America. After the CIA, he worked for 21/2 years in Tours and for 15 years at a French restaurant in New York before he and wife Sarah opened their own place in Newport almost nine years ago.

Bouchard's menu is inventive without straying too far from classic French dishes. The foie gras becomes a tower, stacked with potato slices, and drizzled with truffle oil and aged balsamic. The Atlantic salmon has a "Thai crust" and a lemongrass sauce. Asparagus and lobster show up in the vol au vent (inside a puff pastry). And artichokes match up with tomatoes and goat cheese inside large ravioli.

It was the latter that first caught our attention, and we ordered that ($8.50) along with a special that evening of wild mushroom soup ($8.95), as préambles to our meal, as the French so nicely term them. Two large ravioli were stuffed with grilled artichokes, tomatoes, a bit of goat cheese, and they were surrounded by a tomato and fennel broth. The bright, green tastes in this dish made me think of spring.

The mushroom soup was also light and velvety, but its earthy tastes and the contrasting textures of different mushrooms, from crinkly to smooth, were reminiscent of a leaf-covered forest floor in autumn. Two crispy parsnip chips waved from a rosette of potato puree at the edge of the soup.

Next came our entrees, Dover sole with a sorrel sauce ($30) for me, and veal sweetbreads with a Madeira demi-glaze ($28) for Bill. The lemony sorrel was a perfect foil for the firm-fleshed sole, so hefty and yet so subtle. Those North Sea waters (this was from Holland) produce terrific fish.

Bill's sweetbreads were carefully sautéed with mushrooms and topped with thin slices of smoked duck breast, one of his favorites. The Madeira sauce, reduced with a hint of tomato, was slightly sweet and nicely understated. Both of us had mashed potato rosettes intriguingly decorated, with snow peas and eggplant skins as leaves, yellow squash, and zucchini slivers as petals, even a soupçon of pickled red cabbage as sepals.

Restaurant Bouchard has a full bar and a well-selected wine list, with a wide range of prices. Bill had a glass of the house chardonnay ($6), and he was quite pleased with it.

Desserts at Bouchard include the classics of crème brûlée, chocolate mousse and profiteroles (cream puffs), but we were tempted by the Grand Marnier soufflé, ordered at the beginning of the meal ($9). We were thoroughly impressed, not only by the height and lightness of the baked dish itself, but by the intensity of orange flavor in the soufflé as well as the warm crème Anglaise that had been carefully spooned into it at the table.

With all five senses engaged in this dessert -- I had to tap the top of it and listened to the serving spoon break through its browned crust -- this was the perfect ending to such an elegant meal. The flow and tone of the service was also just right (except for a slow-down with our check), and we felt very welcomed, even by a friendly "Bon Appetit," when Bouchard himself passed by.

My feeling of romance was confirmed by a frog theme (stuffed or sculpted) throughout the restaurant. Sure, it's '40s slang for the French, but upon closer inspection, many of the frogs were frog princes, ready to transmogrify when kissed. And don't we all turn from pouty frogs to smiling royalty when we feel cherished? If you don't have a special someone who can do this for you on a daily basis (or even if you do), treat yourself (and that someone) to Restaurant Bouchard. The staff and the Bouchards will, in turn, treat you.