RESTAURANTS

William Grimes

The outlines of the trend are not clear yet, and I'm not sure what name to give it, but there's something afoot on the dining scene in New York. In the last year or so, a number of talented chefs with strong resumes have chosen a quiet career path, opening small restaurants where everything is modest except the ambitions of the kitchen.

I'm thinking of places like 71 Clinton Fresh Food, Eight Mile Creek or Blue Hill, neighborhood spots with a few tables and banquettes, a distinct point of view and exciting food. They're a little like a sharply written Off Broadway play, or a sneakily clever independent film, so nimble that they make many of their big-budget competitors look obvious and flat-footed.

Annisa is the latest addition to this honor roll. True to the breed, the restaurant, formerly 13 Barrow, makes a pleasant but remarkable impression. A tiny bar looks out on the street through large picture windows, and the dining room, slightly elevated above street level, has a cool, rather bland decor. Only a cylindrical glass vase near the entrance, stuffed with an ever-changing and often bizarre arrangement of seed pods or garlic stalks, offers a hint of unusual doings.

The hint is picked up in the amusebouches that begin each meal. They all have the same packaging, a feather-light cup of fried crepe batter not much larger than a thimble, but they are filled with happy surprises, like a small blob of garlic custard concealing a plump escargot, or horseradish cream wrapped around a firm chunk of smoked trout. As attention getters, they are hard to beat.

Annisa, whose name means "woman" in Arabic, is a two-woman show. Anita Lo, who last worked at Mirezi, turns out the food. Her partner, Jennifer Scism, runs the front of the house, greeting guests and running from table to table over the evening to keep things moving along. Both of them seem to be very clear-eyed about the kind of restaurant they want, a place with clean lines, a welcoming, inclusive atmosphere (I defy anyone to define the very eclectic crowd here) and a quietly persuasive menu, filled with arresting ingredient and flavor combinations. It's all very understated. Even the menu language is terse.

Ms. Lo worked with a narrower idiom at Mirezi, introducing Korean ingredients into French dishes. At Annisa she reaches far and wide for ideas and influences, without strain. Throughout, her cooking is defined by good taste and good judgment. Generally, one twist per dish is enough for her.

She takes a middle Eastern approach to zucchini blossoms, deep-fried in a spiky breading of semolina flour and stuffed with falafel that's been lightened up with grilled zucchini. A spicy tomato sauce gives the dish some acidic bite and a bit of fire.

Foie gras, like one of those constantly available guests on the talk-show circuit, has long been threatening to wear out its welcome in New York, but Ms. Lo has a trick up her sleeve. She pairs a perfectly seared slice of liver with her own version of Shanghai soup dumplings, stuffed with a little foie gras mousse and thickened spicy soy broth. The plate is slicked with a sauce of black vinegar to cut the richness and a bit of jicama for crunch. The result is an appetizer that makes you fall in love with foie gras all over again.

Less dramatic, but still pleasing, are a lobster and avocado salad with lobster coral sauce, and a well-orchestrated salad of grilled squid balanced atop a timbale of seaweed that contains a scattering of firm white beans. Little cubes of blue potato surrounding the dish give it extra eye appeal.

There are miscues along the way. Saddle of rabbit wrapped in bacon with a scallion lining was just slightly dry, and the rabbit struggled to hold its own against the very flavorful bacon, whose saltiness was unfortunately amplified by a delicious but well-salted turnip cake. Grilled sirloin with mustard sauce made with gorgeously gooey raclette cheese was undeniably hearty but not particularly impressive as a piece of meat. It ran a distant second to lamb tenderloin wrapped in spicy lamb sausage and cooled off with a sauce of minty yogurt and cucumbers. Pan-roasted chicken in a high-low sauce of sherry-acented truffles and pig's feet qualifies as a new-age bistro sane.

Fish is infallible at Annisa, starting with a pellucid block of miso-marinated sable, seared to a thick black crust on top accompanied by golden blocks of fried tofu in a briny bonito broth. Soft-shelled crabs, fried to a light crisp, get straightforward, honest treatment, served with a salad of fresh corn in an opal-basil vinaigrette. The surprise comes with the addition of sea urchin, adding a sharp iodine note that weaves its way ingeniously through the crab and the corn. Seared scallops with garlic chives and truffles taste as good as they sound.

For some strange reason, desserts take a long time to get to the table. This delay is all the more noticeable because, by the end of the meal, the restaurant has filled and you notice that despite the intimate-feeling decor, Annisa has awful acoustics and can be a tough place for conversations. The good news is that when the desserts do show up, they are good. Not the sorbets, or at least the mushy cantaloupe and watermelon flavors I tried. But there's no resisting the attractive fluted carrot cake, filled with bits of macadamia nut and served with a pouf of creme fraiche. The apple tart, surrounded by a sticky pool of caramel sauce, ranks very high, a beautifully executed classic with a textbook crust and ideally tart apples.

Annisa is a restaurant with a small room, a small staff and a small menu. But with disarming ease, it manages to make a big impression.