Seven Lamps, Buckhead

Best dishes: gnocchi, mussels, warm figgy pudding

Vegetarian selections: pastas, salads, pickled vegetables

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Price range: $$-$$$

Credit cards: all major credit cards

Hours: 11 a.m.-midnight Mondays-Thursdays, 11 a.m.-2 a.m. Fridays-Saturdays, 11 a.m.-10 p.m. Sundays

Children: fine at lunch

Parking: yes, shared lot

Reservations: yes

Wheelchair access: yes

Smoking: no

Noise level: loud when full

Patio: yes, with a fire pit

Takeout: yes

Address, phone: 3400 Around Lenox Road, Buckhead. 404-467-8950.

Website

My girlfriend and I breezed through the glass doors after an exhausting morning of shopping across the street, looking to refuel with a fun little salad, maybe a hot sandwich on crusty bread or a steamy mug of soup on the bitter-cold day.

A quick glance at the Seven Lamps menu revealed this was not strictly a sandwich-style lunchery. Maybe not what I expected, but little did I know that was the point: expect the unexpected.

Seven Lamps is a case study in contradictions, juxtapositions and, well, little oddities. An irregular five-sided space with a vertically bricked wall and painted ductwork also sports crisscrossed blonde-wood shelves holding homey jars of pickles and preserves. Five bare bulbs — not seven — drop down over one of the communal tables facing mixologist Arianne Fielder’s libation laboratory.

The restaurant’s name comes from an 1849 essay by John Ruskin on the “Seven Lamps of Architecture.” It was suggested by chef Drew Van Leuvan’s business partner, Atlanta architect Tom Williams. Wikipedia tells us that Ruskin’s seven lamps were the demands required of good architecture. These included sacrifice, beauty, truth (honest use of materials) and obedience (no originality for its own sake), all ideals this restaurant would strive to embrace.

Van Leuvan calls the restaurant his “workshop” and says you should expect a completely different experience with each visit. He defines the concept as “ever-changing” and hopes to “showcase how creative and fun a restaurant can be.”

Fielder has creativity down to a science. Her beverage menu now includes sous-vide cocktails — ones that are cooked under vacuum in a water bath for two days. Van Leuvan says this is to concentrate the flavors in a process mimicking barrel aging. Go for the Allegheny ($12), a none-too-sweet but potent beverage made with Angel’s Envy bourbon, Dolin Blanc vermouth, fresh blackberries and lemon zest.

Creativity has proved somewhat problematic for Van Leuvan since Seven Lamps opened. This CIA-trained chef (Culinary Institute of America), whose career has included stints at Seeger’s, Asher and, most recently, One Midtown Kitchen, was criticized for some of the sweet and savory combinations appearing on the earliest Seven Lamps menu.

Although he’s trained as a savory chef, Van Leuvan admits a fondness for the precision required for pastry. That and a sweet tooth. Yet, he insists that early combinations like the gingerbread and gnocchi were not designed for shock value.

Like the ever-changing concept, the menu has shifted since the restaurant opened in December, incorporating initial feedback and reactions.

As intended, each of my three experiences at Seven Lamps was vastly different. On my first visit, I saw promise. First it was the grilled pickles in the sweet and savory mixture of Giardiniera pickled veggies ($7) draped with a sunny-side-up egg and a light mustard vinaigrette.

On that cold day, I melted into my gussied-up grilled cheese ($9), a decadent combination of Gruyere, fromage blanc and Jack cheeses with creamy avocado and egg spilling into toasty brioche. Paired with the perfectly simple hand-cut fries ($4), my comfort-food mission was accomplished.

On my second visit, I returned ready to explore the fun bits and experience Van Leuvan’s brand of creativity. Experience it I did with the Georgia shrimp cannelloni ($10 small/$18 full). The stuffed house-made pasta perches atop a hefty mound of smooth apricot-hued puree. Maybe we needed to check the menu. What was in the cannelloni again? First bite said pickled peaches, acidic and suh-weet.

No pickled peaches. The puree contains onions caramelized in brown butter with a more-than-healthy dose of sherry vinegar. Wait, was there shrimp? Ah, yes, somewhere in the cannelloni …

Next up: mortadella macarons ($7), so creative they require a double take. A pistachio macaron comes filled with a pasty mortadella mousse. You know that’s like bologna, right? As our waitress removed our barely eaten pastries, she became quite flummoxed when asked if she liked them. Of course she does.

Creativity works in Van Leuvan’s favor with the lobster bun ($9), made in a sticky-sweet steamed brioche much like an oversized Hawaiian roll. The puffed dough contains thick chunks of delicate lobster meat. What a shame the heavy-on-the-celery-seed (and I mean heavy) aioli cuts into the sweet and buttery dance between bun and lobster.

On my third pass, I caught a glimpse of Van Leuvan’s true talent. That Thursday night, the restaurant was buzzing, all communal tables filled. Ours was abuzz once we tasted the soft, butter-browned gnocchi ($10/$18) with buttery bread (not gingerbread, mind you) crackles and white truffle oil.

We only abandoned the gnocchi when the mussels with andouille ($12) arrived in all their fennel-butter-and-white-wine glory. We may have ordered more charred bread to soak up every trace of that sauce.

We regretfully relinquished our gleaming bowl and moved firmly into dessert territory. I couldn’t quite talk myself into the Crunch Punch ($10), one of the “drinkable desserts” made from peanut-butter-Cap’n-Crunch-infused rye, vanilla, milk and nutmeg. Instead, I chose the warm figgy pudding ($7), a sweet and buttery version of sticky toffee pudding. It’s far more enchanting than its sister sweet, the over-jellified almond milk panna cotta.

If we’re keeping score (and we are), that’s one good meal, one not so much and one great. If Van Leuvan can rein in his Willy Wonka impulses, his workshop may soon attain those seven lamps.