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Atlas One

820 St. Clair Ave. W., Toronto, 416-656-4817. Dinner for two with drink, tax and tip, $50.

A moment of silence, please, for Atlas One's predecessor, a dry cleaner. Henceforth, any time I see a neighbour in rumpled silk, I promise I'll feel her pain. But I won't feel guilt over my enthusiasm for this Egyptian/Moroccan spot. Sorry, but quality kofta trumps all.

It's hard to pin down what Atlas One is, precisely. It's a café, yes. A resplendent place to meet for coffee or have a midday nibble. It's a restaurant, too. One that works equally well for a conflict-free meal with the folks and a dining-as-foreplay outing.

Dishes are easily shared. Only bruschetta Cairo ($5.95) poses a problem: The starter is worth hoarding. A crisp toasted pita, almost cracker-like in crunch, gets topped with jammy roasted tomatoes, eggplant and feta - far more interesting than the standard baguette topped with Romas.

Co-owner and chef Hamid Razzak exceeds expectations. In an ideal world, Razzak would have a menu without the play-it-safe options. Nothing against penne alla vodka, but it's a distraction when it's obvious that the kitchen's strength is in dishes that could be found in the heart of Cairo or Marrakesh, not in any neighbourhood, anywhere.

The vegetarian platter ($12.95) features hummus splashed with lemon-parsley oil, a selection of fresh vegetables (green beans, cauliflower, eggplant) infused with tangy sauce, tabbouleh and stuffed vine leaves. The inclusion of spring rolls is odd, but dipped in tart tahini, they work.

Many dishes verge on exceptional. A special of lamb kebab ($15.95) arrives without promised sesame, but tender hunks of meat, charred to a crisp around the edges and sweating succulent juices, force prompt forgiveness. The mezzetta platter for two ($23.95) is also a hit. A paired-down sampling of the aforementioned vegetarian offerings flank tender, flavourful chicken and beef shawarma. The standout amid all this variety is the lamb kofta - a ground meat patty best described as a flattened meatball laced with cumin and allspice.

Atlas One transforms as the night progresses into a relaxed, unpretentious and, dare I say, "cool" bar. It's also home to two resident belly dancers who shake and shimmy on Saturday nights.

Servers are friendly and natural. But Atlas One's charm lies as much in the setting as it does in the food and the people. There's a gleaming tin ceiling and original crown moulding; walls are swathed in a splashy mix of terracotta and turquoise. You don't see too many gold-painted ankhs in these parts, and Atlas One's is nice and big, looming over intimate banquettes laden with plump cushions.

As Toronto gentrifies, the number of characterless neighbourhood joints grows - as does the number of patrons accustomed to mediocre, formulaic restaurants. The stretch of St. Clair Avenue West Atlas One calls home is a prime example of a locale where the "draw" restaurant serves up glorified fryer fare on sexy plates to customers who are there to flaunt their money and illegally parked Audis. There are still plenty of places to get your shirts pressed, but there is only one Atlas One. There ought to be more.

Joanne Kates will return

next week.