"They could," my friend said, "give us a dead dog with this sauce and it would be wonderful."

What makes that rather inelegant quip worth quoting is that the elixir she was describing wasn't a sauce, and there wasn't much of it. And it was still worth moaning over.

The place was Alan Wong's Restaurant, the dish an unfussy salad and the "sauce" a li hing mui-ume vinaigrette, dotted picturesquely around an artistic arrangement of baby red and yellow tomatoes, very lightly roasted beets, chunks of not-at-all mushy avocado, crunchy Hilo hearts of palm and tiny, exquisitely perfumed shiso buds ($10.50).

The dressing — like the right accessory with not-quite-matched separates — pulled the whole thing together, complementing the crisp ingredients with sweet, salty and creamy flavors and sunset shades on the boat-shaped white plate. It said "fresh from the garden." It said "Hawai'i (where else would a Chinese spice mixture and a Japanese pickle so comfortably embrace?)." It said "healthy." But it also said "don't try this at home." I had to ask what the shiso buds were, and after 30 years of writing about food, I don't have to ask too often.

When you get this excited about the salad, you know you're someplace extraordinary.

But why even bother to revisit a James Beard Award-winning restaurant so firmly entrenched among the Islands' top three or four that there can't be any unemployed superlatives left about the place?

Well, it had been a while. We heard they've remodeled. And somebody's gotta do it.

(As for the remodel, no worries. It was mostly a little freshening up in the kitchen; even regulars will note few changes. The room still glows with warm woods and subtle earth tones, and with the aloha of the well-trained and efficient staff.)

In the it-had-been-a-while category, we began with Wong's trademark Soup 'n' Sandwich appetizer ($7.50), a dish that characterizes Wong's turn-it-on-its-head, have-some-fun culinary philosophy — a tiny kalua pork and foie gras toasted cheese sandwich and two shades of brightly colored and brightly flavored chilled tomato soup. All you can do is whisper a fervent "Mahalo for that."

Wong, executive chef Lance Kosaka and chef de cuisine Wade Ueoka have kindly retained unforgettable favorites like this while inventing new ones, and at the same time, keeping the menu to a reasonable length. You can still get "Da Bag" (steamed seafood and vegetables in a foil pouch punctured at the table, $11.50); Poki-Pines (crispy won ton 'ahi poke balls, $12.50), Chinatown roast duck nachos ($11) and other favorites, but there are nightly specials that allow regulars to range further afield. We chose a goat cheese tart ($10) — a round of puff pastry filled with warm Big Island goat cheese, topped with an intensely flavored roasted Hamakua tomato slice, MA'O Farms organic arugula pesto and a drizzle of balsamic "syrup." Again, the impression is of lightness, pronounced but clean flavors, complexity without pretension. And the dish is a testament to Wong's willingness to support local food growers by building dishes around their produce.

Another starter was seafood cakes ($16), a dish that goes crab cakes three better by combining lobster, shrimp, scallops and crab meat in a delicate cake with caper mayonnaise and tsukemono relish. Delicate and delicious.

My friend and I had dithered about the five-course sampling menu ($65; $90 with matched wines) or the seven-course chef's tasting ($85; $120 with wines, and must be ordered by everyone at the table), but decided that, however tastefully sized the servings, it was a bit much for a weeknight. We also noted with pleasure the vegetable menu sampling — a lacto-ovo vegetarian fixed-price meal ($55) including the aforementioned tomato-beet-avocado salad, mushroom truffle risotto, a Vegetable Stack of black beans, Okinawan sweet potato and Swiss chard and a trio of Isle-flavored cheesecakes.

My eye fell quickly on the olive oil slow-poached lamb rib-eye ($38), but because red meat's not in my eating plan right now, I talked my friend into ordering it so I could sneak a bite.

Oil-poaching at low temperatures does unspeakably wonderful things to meat and fish. (Remember the oil-poached salmon with lemongrass broth at Padovani's?) The Chinese use this method to turn unremarkable meats into melting, tender morsels of heaven. The late expert on Chinese cuisine, Barbara Tropp, aptly dubbed it "velveting."

The lamb was, indeed, like buttah. And Alan Wong's presents the dish gorgeously, with each chop cozying up to a different sauce and sides of pancetta lentil ragout, taro hash cake and Asian ratatouille completing the East-West crossover. The only unfortunate note was that one sauce, made with chili paste, gave my dining companion's palate such a blast she didn't recover her faculties until the cooling creme brulee arrived. Our waiter, Tony, offered to bring another sauce, but by then, the damage was done. That sauce needs a warning label!

And while we're on service: A lot of places could go to school on Alan Wong's approach, which seems to be to do it right without going all starchy on you. They're friendly without being familiar. They don't interrupt your conversation. They don't forget who is having what. They move you along nicely without rushing you. And if you want to drink not-too-pricey wine by the glass, they have some nice ones.

My entree was a dish more often associated with plate lunch: garlic 'ahi ($28), a special of the night. I love when they do that: Take a homely food and move it uptown without losing touch with its roots. The thickish slab of sashimi-grade tuna was outfitted with a delicious garlic-butter-crumb crust and served with Hamakua eryngi mushrooms, haricot verts and — an item that will be new to many — Kahuku sea asparagus. This aquaculture-raised marine plant (Salicornia, aka sea bean or glasswort) was familiar to me from the Pacific Northwest, where I used to live and where it grows wild. Even if you don't like other seaweeds, try this one: Its rounded green stems resemble very thin stalks of asparagus, and the salty, crunchy effect is delightful.

By this time, I had about a centimeter of room left for dessert, but no way was I going to Alan Wong's without having at least a taste of pastry chef Mark Okumura's genius and, yes, I admit it, we ended up ordering the same old things: the creme brulee selection in saimin spoons (liliko'i, coffee, orange, chocolate, mac nut; $7) and the chocolate crunch bar ($8). Happy to report that both are holding up nicely.

Happy to report, too, that I still can't think of a new superlative.

Reach Wanda A. Adams at wadams@honoluluadvertiser.com.