How appropriate that Persimmon first opened on a festival day — this past May 1. Judging from a recent visit, there should indeed be celebration on its anniversary. Chef/proprietor Champe Speidel is a master at isolating and intensifying flavors so they play against and with one another like music in your mouth.

The restaurant is small, the décor simple, walls pale violet, and an oil painting of the namesake fruit dominates the room like an icon in a temple. The wine list is extensive, the beers few. Leading you to your table is the friendly hostess, co-proprietor/ fiancée Lisa Harrison. They work as a team, by the way, so that every diner at a table is served at the same time. As we mulled over our choices, an interesting amuse-bouche was brought in those flat-bottomed Chinese soup spoons: blood-red beef tartare with flecks of chives and black truffle, atop thickened horseradish crème. Between courses later, for palate cleansers, we were brought cubes of intense, frozen "passion fruit pops," topped with a leaf of gentle lemon balm.

That individual flavors are the guests of honor is evident right away in appetizers containing host components with appetizing invitees. The foie gras ($16), for example, comes with duck confit ravioli, Concord grapes, and "salty peanut praline." Evidence of homage to the god of focused-flavor fetishism, Spain’s Ferran Adrià, becomes apparent when Speidel’s butter-basted lobster risotto appetizer ($10) includes a creamy lobster froth. For starters, Johnnie and I chose salads. Hers was the heirloom tomato combination ($8), which contained purple, golden, and plum-sized varieties; a sweet balsamic dressing allowed their differences to come through. My warm roasted beet salad ($7) was made special by the harmony of three deep notes: earthy beet, rich chèvre, and toasted almond. Slices of marinated fennel and a couple of orange slices were the piccolo and cymbals rising above.

The dated menu changes daily, a sign that freshness rules. Intelligent design is manifest: soy sauce salts up and cuts the sweetness of the maple syrup that glazes the pork porterhouse chop ($24); a vegetable tasting is offered, with "four different presentations" ($19).

The Provençal-style fisherman’s stew ($26) attracted Johnnie. She enjoyed the dish, a medley of red fish filets, littlenecks, and a lobster claw, plus four Gulf jumbo shrimp. The latter were acceptable, but not full-flavored. Our expectations and taste buds had clearly been piqued. My tender pan-roasted breast of Long Island duck ($24), recommended by our waitress as her favorite, was flawless. The touch of tarragon in both the sauce and corn agnolotti provided a light anise-like accent, as had the aforementioned fennel. Accompanying vegetables included radish-size carrots and baby patty pan squash.

But the signature offering here, as it was at Gracie’s, is Speidel’s "Persimmon cheese experience with treats and surprises" ($12). It’s among the appetizers, while also joining such desserts as panna cotta, tarts, and the first-rate crème brûlée. The artisinal cheeses that night spanned the texture-flavor spectrum: a hard tomme, a soft Edam-like variety, and an intense Irish Cashel blue. But arrayed around the three small wedges was the real opportunity: more than two-dozen tastes to complement or contrast: pungent tiny oregano blossoms; subtler but sense-awakening lemon gem marigold blossoms; paper-thin hazelnut brittle; dark swaths of port and balsamic reductions; pieces of pear, both braised and poached; and even honeycomb! The only off note were the seedless Concord grapes, hybrids that lack their forbearer’s jammy punch. If my beet salad was a lovely chord, this cheese plate was a magnificent symphony.

Chef Speidel got his basic training at Johnson & Wales, and then polished it at such top-shelf Providence restaurants as Empire, Neath’s, and for 31/2 years at the original Gracie’s, when it was on Atwells Avenue. At our table during a lull, he spoke of the need for young chefs to not rush ingredients that need different cooking times, warning that "a muddled dish" will result, with homogenized flavors.

Although this caveat is too true, there are no homogenized taste experiences here. For those who consider fine dining an adventure, Persimmon may prove among the thrills of a lifetime.

Bill Rodriguez can be reached at bill@billrod.com.