This is the restaurant I head to for wood-burning-oven specialties or the superlative wine list, nicely categorized by Italian regions, so comprehensive it even has an index. And, judging from the throngs of customers whenever I dine, it seems I'm not the only one anticipating an extraordinary experience.

On this visit, the kitchen immediately showed off its knack for clear flavors with buttery rich salmon carpaccio ($12), presented as a flowering work of art with marinated ribbons of fresh fennel and a scattering of cherry tomatoes.

Three perfectly cooked jumbo shrimp ($12), were a delight atop warm cannellini beans with hints of garlic and sage, while panzanella salad ($10) pleases even without the traditional cubes of bread. Instead, its vinaigrette-splashed tomatoes, roasted peppers, whisper-thin sliced marinated cucumbers, discs of firm buffalo mozzarella and the tell-tale crisscross of open flame-grilled eggplant with arugula were flanked by a lone triangle of oniony focaccia.

Every pasta dish I've sampled here has been well orchestrated, as in pappardelle with porcini mushrooms ($17), outstanding with firm noodles and just the right mushroom intensity, and immodestly rich puttanesca ($14), with rigatoni, anchovies, olives, capers, garlic and a delicious bath of Italian plum tomatoes. I'm equally enamored of homemade fettuccine with roasted veal ragu ($16); it's generously endowed with flavorful meat.

Osso buco, an evening special, arrived like a statuesque sculpture with a bone marrow fork stuck into the shank bone, a visual suggestion to dig in with wild abandon. Traditional risotto framed this eye-catching, deliciously hearty entree, but be prepared for its price tag of $34.

Snapper oreganata, sold at market pricing (we paid $28), was delivered with a flurry of overpoweringly tart sun-dried tomato strips that fought for attention with the meaty fillet. (The tomatoes, unfortunately, won the bout, and the fish suffered from a too-long cooking time.)

Thick-sliced pork loin with prosciutto di Parma, roasted peppers and fontina cheese ($20) delivered meat that wasn't as moist as it should have been, though there's no faulting the other ingredients or the bottom pool of divine wild mushroom sauce with all its earthy finesse.

For the record, I've had to be restrained from double-ordering that zabaglione since my first memorable spoonful. But it's so generously lavished over a square of ricotta cheesecake ($8), we barely recognized the otherwise breezy interpretation of this homey Italian dessert.

Liquor-soaked tiramisu ($7), also layered with zabaglione, is probably one of the better versions in town, but purists might wish for less fruit when it's combined with fresh berries ($10) -- if only for the sheer thrill of savoring more of the cloudlike qualities of this dreamy dessert offered by a well respected chef who joyously invigorates the integrity of a cuisine that used to be thought of as spaghetti and meatballs.