That Rhode Island tradition of giving directions by landmarks that are no longer there lingered in my head, as we entered Ivy Tavern, on Hope Street. Oh, I thought: this is where the first India Cafe was and later, Tartuffe’s. Tough business, running a restaurant. This incarnation seems well suited to the neighborhood, a low-key sports bar with many more options than fried food and beer.

Granted, the regular menu has garlic fries and chili cheese fries at the top, two burgers at the bottom (one with bacon, chili, mushrooms, onions, and cheese), and several sandwiches in between, from the "two-alarm chicken" to the "accidental purist" — a great name for a veggie burger dressed up with grilled apples, caramelized onions, melted brie, tomato marmalade, and mesclun.

The scallop bisque ($4.95) and Orrie’s calamari ($8.75) caught our eyes among the snack/appetizer offerings. Any time a person’s name is attached to a familiar dish, it’s a temptation to see what play they will call. The description said, "Old Bay seasoned," and our waitress explained that the squid rings would be accompanied by a homemade salsa and a spicy remoulade. Quite promising.

Old Bay seasoning is a mixture of savory (celery, mustard, red and black pepper) and sweet (cloves, ginger, cardamom, cinnamon) spices, and it’s a nice complement to any seafood, such as peel-and-eat shrimp. What made this dish a slam-dunk was the melting tenderness and non-greasiness of the calamari, mean feats for a one-man kitchen. But then owner/cook David Silverberg had a lot of practice with seafood at his previous establishment, Eli’s on Block Island. The scallop bisque was also very tasty, though "chowder" might have been a more appropriate word for this thick melange of veggies and scallops, nicely topped off with sherry and tarragon.

Now to the weekly "specials" at Ivy Tavern, many of which are often on the roster. Some all-stars are: French onion soup; various pizzas; mussels "zuppenesca," with olives, garlic and capers; fish and chips; and scallops Lorelei, with crabmeat, mushrooms, and spinach in a Mornay sauce over rice. What appealed to Bill, after such hearty appetizers, was the pork stew ($6.50), Asian-style with sweet-hot spices. Unfortunately, Bill found primarily shredded pork, not the chunks he’d envisioned, and the sweet flavor dominated the hot.

So he set it aside and ordered a Neapolitan pizza, replete with shrimp and sausage, sprinkled with red pepper flakes and oregano ($8.95). The combo was good, but the biscuit-type crust is not our favorite. Though perhaps picky, we both like the taste of either a smoky, grilled crust or a yeasty, olive oil-flavored thick version.

I also went down the Italian path, choosing the Gorgonzola tortellini ($13.95), with tomato, egg, and spinach tortellini in a creamy sauce with walnuts, broccoli, and mushrooms. I could barely make a dint in this large bowl of pasta, not just because of the portion, but also the richness of the sauce. More of the veggies would have offset that for me, and our leftover benefited from additional steamed broccoli.

Desserts at Ivy Tavern run to cheesecakes and mud pie, not house-made, and we were far too sated to tackle any sweets that evening. We had, however, enjoyed Rob "the Barman’s" skillful hand at mixing Bill a Manhattan and me a fruity, non-alcoholic drink. The Ivy has four red and four white wines by the glass and many by the bottle, including Westport Vineyards among the usual suspects of Italian, Californian, and Alsatian choices. And, yes, they have Newport Storm on draft, along with Sierra, Newcastle, Guinness, Pabst, and Warsteiner. Additionally, there are 16 imported beers and microbrews.

So you have many more elbow-benders than Bud, as you watch North Carolina make a valiant run at Duke or take in one of the opening games of baseball’s world champs. Sports memorabilia crowd the coral-colored, sponge-painted walls at the Ivy, from a framed photo of young Larry Byrd to a group collage of the Rhode Island Reds, to wrestling posters to — natch — pix of the Sox.

Near the kitchen door, there’s a floor-to-ceiling section of wall inhabited by a cartoon lion in a chef’s outfit, tossing veggies in a skillet, with ingredients and tools dancing down another strip of wall and an "ivy" vine twining along the top of a doorjamb. Ivy also refers to the nearby university, but the lion is not Brown’s mascot. Could Silverberg be a secret Penn State fan?