THE SMALL COBBLESTONE parking area in the front of the house at 111 W. Paces Ferry Road has lots of cars parked in it. Turning right onto East Andrews, more cars line the side of the road. Though the valet is by no means full, the indication seems to be that this restaurant, Posh, is rockin' with diners.

How weird is that?

Charlotte B. Teagle/Staff (ENLARGE)
Yes, much of Posh's menu is predictable, but that doesn't mean chef/owner Tom Catherall can't work a little magic with the braised lamb over lentils and spicy masala yogurt.
Charlotte B. Teagle/Staff (ENLARGE)
In his restaurants from Shout to Twist to Prime, owner Tom Catherall goes for 'hot,' 'fun' and vibrant atmospheres. Those adjectives can be used for the sticky toffee pudding with hot butterscotch sauce.
Charlotte B. Teagle/Staff (ENLARGE)
Don't be afraid to try the terrine of ham knuckle and foie gras with pea puree. It may sound icky, but it's a pretty solid dish.
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I'll tell you: Pretty weird. 111 W. Paces Ferry Road is the former address for Seeger's. This might be stretching things, but I'd bet that over the 10 years Seeger's was in operation there weren't as many people in the dining room as there are on one weeknight at Posh.

So I'll get this out of the way up front and move on: I miss Seeger's. To walk into this restaurant and see people co-mingling noisily at the bar, drinking, with pop music piped in overhead — it's almost as blasphemous — at first, anyway — as chewing gum in church.

After faltering, then closing last year, Seeger's was bought basically lock, stock and barrel by restaurateur Tom Catherall, who has been building a successful dining dynasty in Atlanta for the better part of two decades. So even the flatware belonged to Seeger's. The oriental rugs. The striped carpet. That marvelous kitchen that can be seen both from portholes in the dining room and from the restaurant's lovely terrace. For someone who dined at Seeger's often, it may take a moment to recover.

The rest of Atlanta — especially the surrounding tony environs near Tuxedo Road and beyond — couldn't care less. Apparently yearning for a neighborhood spot, they have embraced Posh as their own. They drink Zudian gin, order from a predictable menu and go home happy.

Which makes Catherall the P.T. Barnum of restaurateurs. "Restaurants aren't successful because of reviews — they are successful because people enjoy what they eat and want to come back. They are successful because there is an [posterior] in every seat," he told me by phone.

And in this post-Clinton, "Postcards-From-the-Edge" age where instant gratification takes too long, Catherall provides a feel-good feed as heady as a morphine drip. His realm includes a monosyllabic list of hip spots such as Twist, Shout, Strip and Prime, all prone to popularity, if not critical acclaim.

Posh marks the first time in years Catherall has actually stepped back into one of his restaurant's kitchens as executive chef. Beside him is gifted Ian Winslade as chef de cuisine, formerly of Shout, and before that, Bluepointe.

But it is Catherall's stamp all over the menu — an easy beach read that won't stretch anyone's imagination or palate, with a few flourishes of inspiration that come mostly in the form of appetizers: a trio of tuna tartare served elegantly as tiny quenelles on a long white plate, each one with its own ID, be it dotted with shiitake mushrooms, laced with hot red chile or savory with white soy, all best scooped up with bites of wonton chips.

And while a terrine of ham knuckle and foie gras may not sound so pretty, it's well worth a whirl — a salty mass of ham surrounding smooth pâté, with smears of lovely pea puree and walnut oil. Like many of the dishes here, there is a clumsiness to its presentation, but it satisfies nonetheless. In contrast, shrimp and crab are pretty as a picture stacked in a tian with a bright lemon vinaigrette.

Unhappily, too much of the menu is laden with heavy-handedness. With a Web site that touts his restaurants as "hip," "hot," "fun," "fresh," and "sexy," subtlety is hardly one of Catherall's strong suits any more than choosing a two-syllable word is. A cucumber salad on the lunch menu sounds light, yet is weighty with mayonnaise; semifreddo for two at dinner is an abomination, more like a tepid, moussy gelatin. Bermuda fish chowder is a slumgullion of seafood that tastes of nothing but fishiness.

And yet entrees such as a tenderly braised lamb shank over lentils and surrounding swirls of spicy "masala" yogurt renew my faith in this kitchen's abilities.

Servers here have been taught to cater, and they do, though sometimes it goes a little overboard with too many suggestions. Hint: Not all women want their wine, or their cocktails, picked out for them by the waiter. Some of us can actually order for ourselves.

Catherall is ever present in the dining room, donned in chef's whites, meeting and greeting like a stumping politician. And the crowds respond to him — and Posh— with a landslide vote.