At Wink, a decade harnessing the power of 'yes': As restaurants rush to the farm, a pioneering locavore still deserves a seat at the table it helped set

Wink turns 10 years old this month. That's an historical landmark in restaurant circles, where the seasons turn with a vicious acceleration the rest of us measure in dog years.

Toiling outside the spotlight of the hot new thing, Wink's buzz factor suffers from a sort of age discrimination. Sure, they do the Barley-Swine farm-to-table thing. But wasn't that like a decade ago? Let's follow somebody who started doing it this week.

When Wink opened in June 2001, it was a trendsetter in the locavore movement. Farms and farmers got top billing on small plates whose composition evolved with the seasons. To say co-founder Stewart Scruggs was energized at the time would be an understatement. "It wasn't a restaurant; it was a revival tent," he said during interviews in May for a Food & Life story about Wink's 10th anniversary, the same month he and co-owner Mark Paul closed their other restaurant Zoot, which they plan to reopen soon as BC Tavern.

Flash forward, and the revival tent has moved from Wink to places like Parkside, East Side Show Room and Congress. Wink doesn't have a shiny skyscraper the way Congress does. It's hard to see the place at all, tucked into the folds of a low-slung strip center dominated by a dry cleaner. It's separated from its Wine Bar by a roomful of industrial spin dryers.

Nor does it have the star power of a chef the likes of David Bull, because Wink is a kitchen of nominally egalitarian cooks who call their own shots based on the day's best food. Scruggs and Paul still get chefs' billings on the Wink website, but they don't actually work the stoves. They're the owners of a galley whose staff has turned over many times — except for unofficial kitchen leader Eric Polzer — and has included Deegan McClung of Jeffrey's, Barley Swine's Bryce Gilmore and John Bates of the Noble Pig. Wink is an incubator of talent. A Winkubator.

What Wink does have is the power of yes. Is there a less-expensive way to try Wink? Yes, the Wine Bar. Can I get to know the wine list with tasting-size glasses? Yes. Will you add a full-size dish to the five-course menu for us? Yes, and we'll split it between two plates. Can I change my reservation? Yes. May I have this menu as an anniversary souvenir? Yes. Will you relieve the baby-sitter so we can stay for dessert? Maybe not.

Host Mark St. Clair is a lobbyist of sorts, a networker who will shake your hands and repeat your names trying to learn them. Or maybe trying to hear them, because at 40 close-knit seats, Wink is as loud as a legislative special session when it's full, with budget issues of its own. The dishes are expensive for their size, even if the value equation tends to balance out. A five-course tasting menu is $68 per person, plus another $32 each for two-ounce wine pairings. A dinner for two with a pair of small plates and main courses, plus foie gras and two desserts cost us $139 without wine but with a few regrets.

But the five-course dinner was among my most memorable in Austin, paced by waiter Paul Ozbirn's tripped-out bliss in customizing wine tastings to our preferences, specifically my guest's aversion to red. In three hours that spanned six courses and eight wines, we learned that Ozbirn and Wink wine buyer Dirk Miller had just earned their Level 2 sommelier certifications, and he was ready to show it.

Raw hamachi with grapefruit and Basserman-Jordan riesling from Germany: Fruit on fruit, with matching astringencies to work in accord with the fish's light oil and sweet vinegar sauce.

Seared scallop with zucchini and orange purée with Pionero Maccerato albariño from Spain: Shellfish and citrus meet honeyed acidity.

Redfish with sunchokes and corn: We added this $29 dish to the tasting, because the season's first corn brought field and sea together like salted caramel. Comte Lafon Mâcon-Villages chardonnay from France added drying notes of oak for balance. Ozbirn threw in this pairing for free.

Seared duck breast on whipped celeriac with caramelized fennel: Like a spring hunt, this tasted like the field, with scents of licorice and celery's earthy dusk. Duck is a Wink specialty, a blooming rose in the center, crisp brown skin like layered parchment outside. He brought fruity Lemelson Oregon pinot noir for me, big California Freemark Abbey chardonnay for her.