For me, Street & Co. is a mixed bag of pleasure and pain. The tables for two are small, jammed in helter-skelter. The dining room off the kitchen is stuffy and noisy. In warmer months it’s downright unbearable. When I do go, I ask for the back room where the climate is temperate.

Gripes aside, I would go more often because the cooking is so very good. Every dish is original and victorious. Taste sensations are often boundless revelations.

I suppose less critical creatures would call the place cozy and my complaints crazy. If I wanted to dine in a snug corner, I’d stay home and have dinner by the fire. On the other hand, I don’t mean to imply that the two dining rooms or the bar area are not easy on the eyes. The restaurant evokes a charming European nonchalance. It’s easy to imagine that you’re in a Mediterranean city along the waterfront, with minstrels in the alley.

I went a few nights ago, on a frigid evening when saner souls stayed home. The restaurant was a quarter full, an unusual event. Still, we were shown to the table we’re always brought to: in the back room (which I prefer), to the rear far left corner, in easy earshot of everything my dining neighbors were saying.

It’s simple enough to turn a deaf ear and concentrate on the business at hand. Instead I was distracted by other elements. To wit: I sat huddled in the gale of a cold draft on my back, blasting through the single-pane windows that face the street. I scanned the room for another table—and there were many-- until my dinner companion cast a glaring look that strongly suggested, “stay put.”

From there on the rest of the evening was fine. There’s hardly a moment when food is not in front of you, which helps this cranky diner to cool it.

The wait staff is among the best in Portland. They know the menu well; can explain every dish in fine detail without once using the word awesome; and the service and kitchen tend to orders in a timely fashion.

The best things on the menu for me are the “tastes” and the first courses. For entrees I always choose one of the nightly specials instead of the standard of grilled or blackened fish from the set menu.

I started off with a taste-plate of Cajun eat and peel shrimp. These were delectable Maine shrimp, in season now, that were delicious. I devoured them, shells and all. They were heavily seasoned, even thrilling, with Cajun spices. My dinner mate ordered half-dozen respectable oysters from Mill Cove.

One of our first courses was a salad of blood oranges tossed with radicchio, red onion, Parmesan and olives. This is a dish of big flavors awash in a lively toss of balsamic vinegar. Delicious.

My first course was the simplest and the lightest on the menu, accommodating my feeble attempt to diet. It was an admirable assemblage of prosciutto, fennel and Parmesan, good enough for either a spa meal or a trattoria. What I really wanted was the gorgonzola and pear tart or the miraculous mushroom bread pudding with Madeira cream offered that evening.

When the restaurant has one of their savory bread puddings on the menu you should grab it. It’s a wholly original dish. My favorite version is the one made with chunks of lobster or crab.

Since Street & Co. is a fish restaurant it was odd that they were out of salmon, a standard item as common as sliced bread. Nonetheless, my companion seemed satisfied with skate wings as a main course. I’m not a skate wing fan, for no particular reason, but I reached over for a few bites. It had great flavor. The accompanying vegetable side of Brussels sprouts was wonderful, as were the winning mashed potatoes.

I had the potently pleasing fisherman’s stew--merciless with clams, mussels, swordfish, shrimp and squid in a tomato saffron broth, topped with a triumphant dollop of aioli. Faultless and very gratifying, it had all the enthusiastic flavors of a Mediterranean-style fish stew, enough to allay the cold draft on my back.

Desserts here are downright dull. That night was no exception. I was tempted to call up their sister establishment, Fore Street, to send over a care package from their exciting stash of sweets. It didn’t matter. I was dieting anyway.

But I’ve never understood why Street & Co. hasn’t spiked the larder with more desserts, as though such epicurean effrontery would elicit the existentialist.

Nevertheless, from the uninspired list there is always a fruit crisp, a pie, custard or an enormous portion of tiramisu, an Americanized dessert that should be carted off to obscurity. The pie that evening was peach. I couldn’t hold back some mild sarcasm when I asked our waiter if it was made from fresh peaches. It seemed like an odd offering for dessert in the middle of January, in a northern city glazed in ice and snow.

I’ll be damned. It was a pie made from previously fresh Maine peaches after all, kept frozen for a misguided off-season delectation.

Anyway, everything else at dinner hit the spot. We nattered along, up the hill, to the Fore Street garage, to our weather-encrusted car to go home--ultimately satisfied with dinner at Street & Co, a pleasant interlude between nighttime and bedtime.

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