Ever since the days when it called itself Downcity Diner, this restaurant has set the tone and expectations for the Providence arts district, from when it was a little corner BYOB dive with gourmet chops in the early ’90s — a kind of downtown Nick’s on Broadway — to its three-course 12-buck prix fixe phase, ’til now. Its proximity to PPAC and Trinity has encouraged a steady physical expansion and recent full-blown renovation, from decor to menu. The incarnation today, on and off the plate at Downcity — a one-word name now, like Cher — is sophistication, but with a wink.

A pretentious Downcity would be like Julia Child showing off her perfect French — well within the skill set, but unnecessarily showy. One of the things we’ve always loved about Downcity is its casual way with culinary competence, like it’s telling us that good food is our birthright.

So goodbye funky art deco ambience, bon jour lighting fixtures that resemble upside-down champagne flutes. Instead of the bar being squeezed into a corner space as though between parentheses, it has spread its elbows and now dominates the place, offering specialty drinks at the top of the dinner menu. (Smoking is allowed at the bar, so when you call for reservations specify a remote table, if that’s your preference.) On the menu, appetizers no longer include such simple fare as pesto crostini or aw shucks combinations like jonnycakes with shrimp and lobster salad. No, for better or worse, Downcity’s new upscale commitment will forever be represented in my mind by the broiled semi-boneless quail with wild mushroom crepe and cranberry vinaigrette ($9) that passed our table like a Thanksgiving turkey viewed from afar.

Okay, no fair busting them as hoity-toity. (Although there is that scrumptious-looking polenta-crusted fried mozzarella, served with black olive pesto as well as marinara, that I can’t help but thinking of as bar food that vacationed abroad once too often.) The two pan-fried eggplant cakes ($7) were quite good, the three at our table agreed. They were served aside a small mesclun salad for vinaigrette complement, on a pool of slightly spicy-hot kitchen-made ketchup. Asked about what filler lightened it, the waitress returned with the hand-written recipe (Romano cheese and sautéed onions) of Paul Shire, co-chef/proprietor with Anthony Salemme. Still a folksy/friendly place, Downcity.

This restaurant has always had an interesting breadbasket; someone here must have been traumatized by Wonder Bread in their youth. We were brought slices of sesame-topped pita and fried tortillas, accompanied by a white-bean hummus. Tasty. That went nicely with the Boston bib salad ($7) and its fig slices, caramelized shallots, chevre, and gentle sherry/orange vinaigrette.

With its entrées, Downcity (the menu is online at www.downcityfood.com) is still down-home enough to retain its popular signature meatloaf ($15), crusty, moist, and delicious. I heard our waitress touting the pork chop ($16) as her favorite dish, but that couldn’t distract me from the menu description of the "mostly boneless" duck ($18) with chipotle-orange marmalade. It proved as mouth-watering as promised, the slight, smoky heat an interesting addition to the sweetness, the traditional citrus cutting the greasiness of the dark meat. The accompanying braised string beans were nice and snappy, and the sweet potatoes so buttery that the flavor slid down my throat cheering. My dish went nicely with the side of celery root and parsnip risotto ($5) we all shared. Other sides include broccoli rabe with roasted peppers, and sweet potato fries.

Johnnie had a special, halibut ($15), which was floured and lightly baked, served with a short-grained and wild rice mix and a tangle of pea tendrils. Simple, well prepared. Our student guest, Tarra, was rescued from whatever gruel variation that Brown commissaries are stuffing students with these days to build character. (Oh, come off it. Kidding.) The licorice prospect of the Pernod-laced broth of "Paulie’s bouillabaisse" ($19) dissuaded her from that temptation, so she went for the sautéed chicken ($16). It was plenty moist, topped with mozzarella and porcini mushrooms, with a hint of truffle butter earthiness, over white and spinach fettuccine. Perfectly serviceable.

As a reviewer advised in Bon Appetit, "Save room for dessert." We ordered two and sampled a third. Johnnie loved the lightness of her pumpkin cheesecake, so much more velvety than a pie version, and jazzed up nicely with a cranberry-ginger compote. Tarra went for the apple/cranberry/ strawberry crisp, and liked it. I enjoyed how Salemme fine-tuned its double-teaming tartness. My waitress-suggested sample (shades of a friendly ice cream shop!) of the Mexican apple cream torte had no jalapeño hint of ethnicity, just smooth, flaky crusted caramel deliciousness. All desserts are $7 and kitchen-made.

Sure, sure, with its new image Downcity has slicked back its hair and is sporting a tux. But the atmosphere is still full of the same old irreverent banter. Now, it’s just more likely to be over martinis than beers.