Clio is a trip. Chef Ken Oringer operates a kitchen that's part chemistry lab and a dining room that's part game-show set. It sounds like an episode of "Jeopardy!": Does the maple make the white-asparagus soup too sweet? Does the suckling pig still have its head? What are the emerald green drops alongside the chocolate cake? (The answers: No, no, and basil syrup.) Popular with businesspeople and couples, Clio is a plush room with funky accents -- check out the leopard-print rug -- that match the mood of food. The menu changes daily, according to what Oringer can find fresh or fly in. More than at any other restaurant in town, rely on the good-natured servers' expert advice. You'll bond quickly as you sort out various ingredients ("forgotten" vegetables? bee pollen? pistachio broth? argan oil? grains of paradise? brandade broth?).

A common complaint is that portions are too small for the price, but this chowhound disagrees. They're not so skimpy, and you wouldn't want too much of food this rich and complicated, anyway. You won't be stuffed, but you will be satisfied -- and you'll have room for dessert, which Oringer, a former pastry chef, takes as seriously as anything else.