At Vino Vino, thinking outside the glass

People loved Vino Vino. But they kept leaving. After a few glasses of wine, their thoughts turned to dinner, and options at the wine bar that opened in 2006 were limited.

Managing partner Jeff Courington remedied Vino Vino's greatest challenge in 2008, adding a full kitchen and bringing in Chef Esteban Escobar, veteran of Fino and Lambert's. Over the past three years, the inviting space on Guadalupe Street has gone from a great wine bar with snacks to a great restaurant with an amazing wine list. Nestled quietly on the edges of Hyde Park and North Campus, Vino Vino feels like a neighborhood haunt that has been serving as an extended parlor room for decades. Part of that charm comes from the 115-year-old wooden floors, exposed beams and the massive bar taken from the Bitter End, which closed in 2005 following a fire. With its steel light fixtures and honeyed light, it is a place that balances modern and classic.

Small table lamps dot the long bar, offering soft reading light for those wanting to grab a bite and a glass to go with their book. But Vino Vino's ambience is more suited for eating and imbibing with others. The shotgun format is populated with big wooden tables, several of which can serve as communal eating spots on busy weekend nights.

Floor-to-ceiling wine racks stretch along the dining room walls, mostly European labels that number in the hundreds. Neophytes need not be intimidated, however. Courington believes wine should be an everyday experience. Helpful index cards provide clever and plain-spoken descriptions of the wine, along with recommendations. Think of it as BookPeople for Bacchus.

The crisp citrus of the versatile Adriano Adami Garbel 13 prosecco makes for a wonderful start to any meal, giving a sense of occasion, even when there is not one. But anytime you can get incredible mussels and fries ($12) like those served at Vino Vino, there is cause for celebration. Take your fork and blend the white wine, tarragon and garlicky aïoli together to form a creamy broth so divine you might find yourself asking for more homemade bread to sop every last bit. Your server won't judge you. At least, mine didn't. Just resist the temptation to pour it in your mouth. Golden fries, thicker and less greasy than the wimpy variety seen on many similar plates around town, come served in a neat pile, just the right amount of starch to accompany the tender bivalves.

On each visit, friendly servers offered helpful direction in wine selection. The silky deep plum flavors of the Caldaro Dolomite pinot nero ($12) coaxed and enveloped the bloody intensity of a medium-rare Wagyu beef slider ($5) topped with juicy tomato more vibrant than any shade of lipstick in the room. I only wanted one as an appetizer, but the price would be a little steep for ordering multiple sliders as a meal. Three for $12 might change my mind.

Hearty coarse-grained garlic sausage highlighted a house-made charcuterie plate ($15) that featured subtle lamb terrine that resembled salami and a flavorful pork rillete that could have benefited from a bit more moisturizing fat, glutton that I am.

Amber and succulent, an airline-cut roasted chicken breast ($17) that brings a leg along for the ride, had almost as much moisture as the light veloute in which it sat. Bulgur and wilted-but-still-firm escarole provided crunch and texture, with tender chunks of butternut squash hinting that fall was right around the corner, a mood enhanced by the pear and apple notes of the recommended 2010 Gagliardo "Fallegro" 2010 ($11). A lightly fried cut added guilt and flavor to one of the best chicken dishes I've had in recent memory.

Large scallops ($22) arrived looking like toasted marshmallows, a deep and expansive crust giving way to ivory slivers. Tart, chewy shards of preserved lemon speckled the buttery soubise and made for an enjoyable bout of bread dipping and fork sifting, like a culinary version of an Easter egg hunt.

Another exemplary combination of sea and sear was the pan-sautéed snapper ($23), its crisp skin hidden beneath a liberal dollop of gribiche, a tartarlike sauce highlighted by aromatic tarragon. The green appeared multiple times during our visits, indicating the kitchen's nod to seasonality and freshness. One of the most interesting pairings suggested was the unique Sporteletti Assisi Grechetto ($13), brightening the dish with its grassy and herbaceous notes.