Angela, a self-confessed Francophile, immediately swooped on the rare opportunity to order veal sweetbreads done in a classic mirepoix ($18), while I considered first the duck breast with blueberries, then the slow-cooked lamb shank, then the scallops with morel sauce. But finally I settled on a dish of prawns provençale ($20). Judging from the full dining room last week, the menu has already attracted a clientele.

Angela and I toasted the pretty room with glasses of a bubbly from New Mexico, by Gruet ($6) and a supple, plummy Pinot Noir from nearby Trout Gulch Vineyards ($7). Angela commented on the enormity of the glass of Pinot. With wine this multi-dimensional, I was glad for a generous pour. Francese and herbed butter were brought swiftly by our very friendly and helpful server. Throughout the meal our every need was attended to, and while it seems that the serving style is perhaps a bit casual for such an elegant menu, nonetheless the staff is unfailingly swift and attentive.

Enormous white plates soon arrived. On mine was a circular crown of pale coral-hued salmon, which had been diced with olive oil, lemon and garlic chives ($9). Truffle oil and a micro-dice of red pepper dotted the rim of the plate, along with tiny sprigs of fresh chervil, and every bite was a little gift from the sea. Angela was enchanted by the subtle, clear flavor of the uncooked salmon—the right match for her sparkling wine. The other starter involved tender spinach leaves tossed in an earthy soy vinaigrette. This might have been quite enough to make me happy. However, it was only the beginning of one of the best appetizers in the area. Three giant prawns had been wrapped in luscious Corallitos bacon and very lightly grilled. These lay atop the spinach, and everything was strewn with toasted pine nuts and a few nuggets of Gorgonzola cheese ($9). Thrilling flavor combinations emerged in every bite, and frankly this wonderful opening act could easily be a main dish (along with a few slices of the addictive bread and a fine Pinot, like the one I was sighing over from Trout Gulch).

We had a chance to sit back and enjoy the lingering flavors, with the sun slowly setting through redwood trees just outside our corner table. And then came our main dishes. The veal sweetbreads had been braised and then sauced with an herb-laced, shalloty demi-glace. Next to the soft, buttery meat—so subtle, and yes, with a hint of sweetness—sat a plump rosette of what Angela pronounced as “perfect” mashed potatoes topped with a cherry tomato and an infant carrot. My tangle of large butterflied prawns had been sauteed with garlic, parsley and tomatoes and sat next to its own rosette of coarsely ground creamy polenta. Both of these exceptionally beautiful plates arrived with long slender haricots vert and a nest of baby zucchini—expertly prepared vegetables that made their own claim on our attention. They were anything but an obligatory afterthought. The polenta was sensational, and Angela’s creamy, earthy potatoes made the exact right foil for the rich organ meat entrée. “You really just can’t find sweetbreads anywhere,” she remarked, obviously enjoying a quick trip to the Continent with every bite. Tender and mild, these were sweetbreads to make new converts among those who remain shy of trying “unusual” dishes. While I would come back to Ma Maison just to sample either of these dishes again, I couldn’t help but admire a deep dish of fettucine with fresh seafood and another entrée of rare duck with a deep purple blueberry sauce at a neighboring table. Clearly there is much to like and much to sample at the area’s newest serious dining room.

With the very last sip of opulent red wine I finished my last bite of prawn (until lunch the next day, that is) and let myself be tempted by dessert possibilities. Angela paid close attention. She sipped an after-dinner Madeira and I dispatched a perfect espresso as we listened to the options. Housemade luxuries included crème brûlée, chocolate fondant, vanilla cheesecake with fresh strawberries, and mixed fresh berries with lemoncello—nothing here was overly mysterious, everything sounded wonderful. But we decided to split an order of the cheesecake, and soon our forks were probing a remarkably high, wide and handsome slab of very, very creamy cheesecake. Atop was a tiny garnish of lemon peel preserved in Campari (fabulous), and a side of perfectly ripe sliced strawberries ($6). Call it decadent or call it a fantastic finish to a fine meal—Ma Maison could well become your new “maison” of expertly prepared, unpretentious dining.

Ma Maison, 9051 Soquel Drive, Aptos, 688-5566. Lunch: Tuesday through Saturday, 11:30 p.m. to 2 p.m. Dinner: Tuesday through Sunday 5:30 p.m. Closed Monday. Full bar. For more information, visit www.mamaisonrestaurant.com.

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