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Broken Plate (302 10 St)

Eschewing Greek restaurant clichés such as Parthenon-style plaster pillars decked in plastic grapevines and lumpy Mediterranean murals, Broken Plate on 10th Street N.W. is both modern and reassuringly comfortable. Its decore does, however, tastefully acknowledge its ethnicity: There’s a bazouki (kind of a Greek banjo) atop the bar, a vintage Greek map triptych on one wall and a well-placed urn or two.

Broken Plate claims to serve traditional fare with some “modern” dishes. The menu does indeed run from classic plates including mussels Mediterraneo ($13) and rack of lamb ($32) to the less-so — salmon salata ($15) and lobster ravioli ($18). Suitably, my dinner guest and I sample both the food of the ancients and that of more recent inspiration.

To start, however, we begin with a Grecian staple not always given its due in this city’s Greek restaurants. From a generous list, we order a half-litre of Retsina Asteri ($15). For those who cringe at the thought of the wine’s characteristic pine taste, this brand was light and fruity yet dry. While it lacks the very taste that defines retsina, it’s very drinkable.

Our appetizers arrive soon after our drinks. The Atlantic scallops ($12) with risotto fritters and light citrus sauce are well-presented, the Herculean scallops perched atop light golden fritters. Cooked just right, the scallops are soft and moist. The risotto balls are expertly done. Their light deep-fried outer shells hold light cheesy rice in a loving grip.

Next, an order of Saganaki ($13) — skillet-baked Kefalotiri cheese — arrives tableside with a resounding “Opa!” and an orange “woof” of brandy flame. The broad wedge of grilled cheese is lemony, salty and just plain good.

The seared domata halibut ($26) is served seared with capers, scallions, parsley, tomato sauce, risotto and market vegetables. This is a generous dish and it’s given a well-considered arrangement. Though the big slab of halibut is cooked more than I like, this is a quibble. The tomato caper sauce is a subtle combination with the halibut. The capers provide tiny pops of zip that don’t overpower the delectable white meat. The fish is nestled into a monster mound of mushroom risotto. I know, I ordered risotto as part of my appetizer — a rookie move that will leave me full of a lot more very excellent risotto than I’d planned. The entree version is creamy and rich — almost too creamy and rich. But I can’t stop eating it. The large-cut mixed vegetables round out the plate. Chinese greens, zucchini slabs, a beet and a small yellow pepper are all done right.

Similarly presented is the chicken entree. Zeus’s chicken ($23), a breast stuffed with spinach, goat cheese, feta, mushroom duxelle and served with roasted potatoes and those same glowing vegetables, confirms that the excellence of the halibut was no fluke. The kitchen knows its way around both fish and fowl. The bird mixes perfectly with the cheese and chopped spinach. Moist and creamy inside, its salty herb-rubbed exterior is golden delicious. The rosemary sprigs are an excellent accent.

My guest and I are so engrossed in our meals, we haven’t noticed the place is still buzzing late on a weeknight. During the course of our Tuesday meal, an unexpected number of plates are smashed to one side of the bar. Uproarious laughter and shouts of “Opa!” accompany each successful shattering. Fridays and Saturdays, I’m told, the staff performs traditional dances while the dishware flies.

As an apparently muscle-free young woman tries to break her plate for a third time, our desserts arrive. My body weight is now a quarter risotto at least, but I can’t resist the siren call of baklava ($7) made with phyllo pastry, walnut and honey. House-made, it’s served as a complete dessert with whipped cream, an orange slice and chocolate-caramel drizzle. It’s not as crisp as the ubiquitous Middle Eastern variety and it’s drowning in honey. It is it’s own kind of awesome.

My friend’s cheesecake ($8) towers above the plate with strawberry topping, whipped cream and a lace of chocolate and caramel drizzle. Not exactly the Greek-est sweet, but thick, velvety and good to the last forkful.

Belt buckle groaning, I conclude that be it classic or contemporary Greek, Broken Plate serves consistently first-rate food in a fun and pleasant setting. So if the plate ain’t broken, don’t fix it.