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The food is hit and miss, so pop the cork and let the good times pour

BEFORE I TAKE a sip, I wait plaintively above the rim of the glass, my nose dug deep into its bowl. The bouquet is literally intoxicating, full of strawberries and spices, with hints of blackberry, even banana. It smells so good, I'm almost sad to drink it.

CHARLOTTE B. TEAGLE/AJC STAFF (ENLARGE)
Eno's butter poached Maine lobster comes complemented with pumpkin seed broth. But it's the wine that conjures the happiest thoughts.
CHARLOTTE B. TEAGLE/AJC STAFF (ENLARGE)
The English pea risotto with Parmigiano Reggiano is a standout. The oysters (below)with lemon garlic butter come to the table smoky and plump.
CHARLOTTE B. TEAGLE/AJC STAFF (ENLARGE)
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The bartender leans forward with a knowing gleam in his eye. He looks at me as if to say, "I know what you're thinking."

The wine is a Tempranillo, a grape native to Northern Spain and a principle component in Rioja. It's on the by-the-glass list at Eno, unusual even though it's neither expensive nor particularly hard to find.

Looking out onto Peachtree Street, I can imagine New York's Upper West Side. Eno has all the makings of a West Side bistro, with its pretty patio overlooking the street, its clamoring-for-the-theater-at-8 crowds. The dining room has much more room than it appears to have at first glance. It is quietly decorated with piney faux French side tables with fresh flowers and a once-cared-for-but-forgotten look, as if the furniture were left over from someone's recent move.

Eno is a neighborhood restaurant with the city for a neighborhood. Rarely will there be someone different greeting you at the door, pouring wine at the bar or waiting on you at a table. Even the valet is the same most evenings.

The chef, however, has changed. And as much as I would rather sit at the comfortable bar and try more wines (Eno has lots of tastings), the chef is why I am here.

New chef Milton Farris was educated at the New England Culinary Institute and did stints at Jo Jo in New York and Pano's and Paul's. But the first few times I visited Eno, the menu was not his and there were lots of problems.

An appetizer of seared foie gras with diver scallops, one of the restaurant's signature dishes, was about the only thing worth eating, the foie gras caramelized and luscious, the scallops sweet and succulent.

Almost every other dish suffered from what a companion dubbed "culinary school cooking." Everything sounded good on paper, but big pieces of the flavor picture were missing. Shrimp pancakes were plodding and blase, and a lobster-and-crab sausage had the unappealing texture of a bath toy. Butternut squash tortelli was greasy and tasteless. Even salt didn't help.

So I kept going back, doubtful, but figuring Farris' new spring menu would be the true trial.

With trepidation, I ordered smoked oysters with lemon garlic butter from the new menu. I asked nervously for English pea risotto with Parmigiano-Reggiano, afraid of what might come from the kitchen.

What came, to my amazement, were oysters plump with real smoky flavor (not that false-tasting bottled stuff), tinted a subtle pink from the fire, deliciously resting in their shells with a whisper of garlic flavor. The peas in the risotto popped with flavor and freshness, the perfect backdrop for the bold sharpness of the cheese.

What a resounding difference between Farris' cooking of the old menu and his execution of the new. Even the signature foie gras with scallops was better, with shards of buttery pear underneath a tiny tower of the two, mingled with a sweet-tart onion compote. I could have slurped down a pumpkin seed broth with poached lobster (a little too chewy) with a straw.

There were still a few issues. Gnocchi with heirloom tomatoes (since when are grape tomatoes heirlooms?) had little taste and a lot of chew, which is not a quality to aspire to in gnocchi. The gnocchi show up again beside an otherwise succulent breast of duck, dark and crisp-skinned with more peas and meaty morel mushrooms.

Even the desserts showed a marked improvement. A dry walnut cake and gooey profiteroles were replaced by strawberry semi-freddo in a frothy strawberry soup. And while the waiter steered us toward a pretty little chocolate cake covered in glossy ganache, next to the smooth freshness of the semi-freddo, it seemed plebeian.

And then, of course, there's the wine, the reason to come to Eno. Whites range from rare offerings of Greek Assyrtiko to the ever-popular Conundrum. And the reds are spectacular, with lots of Spanish and Italian bottles (and tastes), from my glass of Tempranillo to super Tuscans such as Aia Vecchia's Sangiovese-Cabernet blend.

Old menu, new menu — it really doesn't matter at Eno. Come here to savor the wine.

Back at Eno's bar, open to the street, a warm breeze has conjured a brief shower. The smell of fresh rain melds with wet concrete. Sipping the Tempranillo, I can feel summer arrive on my lips.

KEY TO RATINGS
Outstanding. Sets the standard for fine dining in the region.
Excellent. One of the best in the Atlanta area.
Very good. Merits a drive if you're looking for this kind of dining.
Good. A worthy addition to its neighborhood, but food may be hit or miss.
• Restaurants that do not meet these criteria may be rated Fair or Poor.