I’ve cited my dislike of small restaurants often: rabbit warrens where elbow room is a commodity and seating options no better than a busload at rush hour. Yet the trend some years ago championed small restaurants over impersonal rooms. Especially in New York, stylish dining was defined by a new generation of Lilliputian haunts, with 5 to 10 tables.

They were meant to be palaces of precious proportions. There can be something very appealing about walking into an opulently furnished room, or even a stark backdrop, where every touch is exquisite, as mere background for the discriminating diner to delectate. The now defunct Cello, in the East Seventies, brought the notion of exquisite, precious food, served in stark simplicity, to a very high level. It had a short, sweet reign as one of New York’s most highly regarded restaurants where only a handful of diners could be at any one time.

One of my other favorites was the Box Tree, across the street from the renowned Lutece. It occupied half the floor of a brownstone on East 52nd Street where extraordinary food was served in prudent surroundings.

I recall inviting a lady friend at the time, who was visiting from London, to join me for lunch. She could have doubled as Dynasty’s Joan Collins, both in looks and quick wit. Of course she took her time in getting there, arriving 30 minutes late. But she breezed in finally, took a quick, sharp look around and proclaimed in her deadly British clip, “Well, if I didn’t know it was chic, I wouldn’t have known.”

Such are the merits of understatement. Needless to say we had a great lunch, and I haven’t seen her in years. I could translate her observation to current options by saying, if it weren’t so small it could be a good restaurant.

Small restaurants don’t’ work everywhere. In New York, these establishments can get away with high tariffs instead of high volume. Otherwise it’s difficult for a place to succeed on the mere calculation of 10 tabs per evening.

Portland, for better or worse, is a city of small dining establishments. Think of the Blue Spoon on Munjoy Hill, which manages to survive with fewer tables than found in a dentist’s waiting room. I’ve gone there, have enjoyed the food, but the ambiance is too makeshift for me. I’d rather eat at home, settled at my own kitchen table, than to bother going out to eat to sit in a box.

But in our neatly delineated city, the small restaurant is the norm. It’s not so much out of style but out of necessity. These are places often started on a shoestring budget. Décor is an afterthought, designed by enterprising owners handy with a paint brush.

If I get annoyed it’s because that’s all we mostly have. Give me some room--a vista beyond the bread basket, tables large enough to cross your legs under, spaced far enough apart to have a private meal.

Bandol, for instance, with only 10 or so tables, at least arranges itself in a reasonably large space that’s comfortable and soothing. Hugo’s space is also commodious and generous. Fore Street’s room is large and dramatic. The Old Port Sea Grill has roam to roam but they forgot to install acoustics in a space that can be noisier than the on-ramp of the Casco Bay Bridge.

Sometimes, I must admit, a small restaurant can be appealing, as though the need to be in a cozy respite from the norm is more palliative than painful. Last week I was in the mood for just such a spot, and I thought of Café 158 in South Portland. I had been there for dinner months ago and enjoyed it. At the time their wine list consisted of one red and one white, neither of which were great but it was, I suppose, better than a Fresh Samantha.

Yet at least Café 158 had some charm along with its innovative fare. I liked its naughty, dark ambiance, strutting across the dull corners of outer South Portland. Even though you have to squeeze yourself into a small space to sit down to eat, literally cheek to jowl with your neighbor, the place has an appealing irreverence.

It helps that the food—innovative, unusual and basically well prepared—has so many unusual layers of taste, texture and tang.

It’s not a place to find a hearty meal, serving up the notion of big plate dining. Rather it offers small tastes, cast in an inevitable fineness that’s hard to compare to any one cuisine. I suppose the overriding mantra points to a Mediterranean sensibility. It’s not big fare such as at Rachel’s on Woodford’s, but the flavors are intense.

Consider some of these offerings from the menu, which changes weekly: shaved lamb salad with feta, fava beans and mint vinaigrette; caramelized oyster mushroom tart; spring vegetable crepes, grilled scallops with roasted grapes and couscous; coq au vin with Maine spring turnips.

Had we been a larger group we could have sampled most everything. But it was just the two of us left to decide amongst so many choices. The courses are almost like tapas in size so that we wound up having three dishes each plus dessert.

I had a tough time deciding between arctic char confit with grilled sweet onions (it sounds wonderful) or the mushroom tart as my starter. I chose the latter and my dining companion began with the spring vegetable crepes.

The tart was about the size of a doubloon, piled high with richly caramelized mushrooms set on a dollop of pastry. I loved it and could have had a full portion if it existed.

For a middle course I chose the shaved lamb salad. At first bite the taste of mint was intense, a fitting jolt of freshness for the bits of well seasoned lamb and the various beans.

My companion’s spring vegetable crepe starter followed by a mixed green salad with molten chevre and tarragon dressing were very well done. I sampled both dishes to find them filled with high flavor and appeal.

As a main course I had the coq au vin and my dinner mate chose the Gloucester mackin cheese.

The chicken was a perfect rendition of the French classic. The leg and the thigh were a beautifully flavored braising concentrate of rich red wine and stock.

The Gloucester mackin cheese was basically baked macaroni and cheese, an amusing dish that was quite tasty.

Since Café 158’s other half is the excellent 158 Bakery up the road, desserts here are always a treat. My almond torte was everything it should be, a beautifully wrought almond filling encased in classic butter short crust. The coconut cream pie, for coconut lovers, which I’m not, was proclaimed a revelation of homey fineness.

I don’t recall the wine we had. It was a tidy, flavorful red that was quite pleasant. I also don’t recall the exact amount of our bill, but it was very reasonable. The highest priced dish is $12 and the lowest is $3.

Though I didn’t try to fool myself into thinking that I was at a redoubtable reincarnation of New York’s Box Tree, I was instead, and happily so, at the best that South Portland has to offer.

Note: Reservations are necessary at Cafe 158, which is open Thursday to Saturday for dinner, everyday for breakfast and lunch. Verizon information, however, has a tough time finding this listing. And the name of the restaurant is spelled as Cafe One-Fifty-Ate The number is 207-799-8998

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