It was a terrific idea. Why not have a little restaurant on the first floor, below 2nd Story Theatre, to attract theatergoers wanting a bite to eat before they stepped upstairs? No more rushing through dessert elsewhere to make it to 2nd Story in time. They could coast for a year, easy, on the relief of diners traumatized by the mediocre restaurant that had been there before.

Well, it’s been one year this month that Downstairs has been open — only on nights that shows are running. But it serves during performances as well, so you don’t have to be performance-bound to dine downstairs. Since we go to every 2nd Story performance, heading upstairs we had seen many an appetizing-looking plateful pass by, so it was time to finally check out the place.

You’d probably first notice the room at the right, its long wood bar and warm atmosphere evident through a glass-paneled door. But you enter through the door at the left, a roomier space with mint green walls, where the post-performance cabarets are held. We were led through there to the other room.

The smaller, confined space was quite noisy, with almost all the tables occupied. Some restaurants are designed to make you lean forward for conversation, like you’re in a pick-up bar, going for a sense of vibrant animation. There was that, to the point that I couldn’t make out whose singing voice was crooning from a speaker not far behind me.

The pleasant space offers the décor version of fusion food. The walls are knotty pine, like in a hunting lodge, but dominating the ceiling is the feminine touch of a painted rosette above a chandelier with faux candles. (Maybe it’s the décor version of cross-dressing.) There weren’t flowers on the tables, but a big vase of red and white stargazer lilies stood atop a low partition for all to share. (The décor version of a hippie commune? Okay, I’ll stop.)

Wine and beer is served. The menu has only three appetizers, plus a soup of the day, and three salads, plus eight entrées. Such a limitation doesn’t usually bother me, as long as the basic appetite groups are covered, but one or two more appetizers would be a good idea, perhaps as specials. We shared a bowl of corn chowder ($7/$9), which was milky rather than creamy, and infused lightly with the flavor of shrimp that might have been minced into it. It was delicious.

Besides a spinach-artichoke dip ($7), and a baked brie and fruit platter ($12) for the grazers, there is a quite good Indonesian chicken satay ($9). Four half-skewers held grilled marinated meat, the larger chunks still moist and all of them tasty from cilantro. The presentation was dramatic: everything on a square of banana leaf in a shallow wicker basket, a copious bowl of spicy peanut dipping sauce amid pea tendrils, with watermelon triangles separating the skewers.

There were eight menu entrées, plus a Cajun blackened catfish special. A pineapple-teriyaki glaze was on both the chicken breast ($12) and the salmon ($17). The heartiest meat-eater’s opportunity was the beef tenderloin under a mushroom and cream demi-glace ($18). We considered getting the pad Thai for two ($22), which came with the Thai barbecue mixed grill that is separately available for $14.

Instead, Johnnie got the pad Thai ($11) by itself, choosing tofu rather than the chicken or shrimp alternatives. It was a venturesome preparation — she called it "pad Thai-inspired" — but was not wholly successful for us. Instead of the usual thin rice vinegar-peanut sauce, the downstairs version was thick, presumably adapted from the satay sauce, and tossed with the rice noodles, which were overcooked. So the spicy assemblage, while tasty, glommed together, with too few mung bean sprouts mixed in to lighten the texture.

As befits diners who need to finish by curtain time, all of our dishes arrived promptly, served beneath the friendly, familiar faces of 2nd Story actors. My choice was the pasta special of the day ($14), penne with jerk-marinated chicken in a light Alfredo sauce. For color, there were a few English peas tossed in and shreds of basil on top. With the pasta al dente and the grilled chicken plentiful, I was glad of my choice. This was our third spicy hot item of the meal, with Caribbean spices this time, which was fine with us.

That cayenne and pepper predilection emanates from the Creole heritage of the mother of Louisiana-raised chef John Michael Richardson. With her training and inspiration, he has been cooking all his life. Artistic director Ed Shea tapped Richardson, an actor in the company, to helm the because his desserts went over so well with audiences upstairs. (Richardson is too busy downstairs these days to keep the hungry supplied upstairs. Sorry.)

His desserts run $7 to $8. We considered the three-berry crumble or a ricotta and pistachio brownie croustade, but we settled, fortunately, on our waitress’s recommended favorite, which she described as a "liquid brownie." Served aside vanilla ice cream, it’s like heaven and a half.

Fine theater upstairs, good food downstairs. With a shower and cots, some customers might hardly ever leave.

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