In a town where restaurants vanish faster than a Prada handbag on a nightclub dance floor, one of the most lamentable losses of the past decade was Miami Beach's Abbey Dining Room, an in-the-know spot that charmed locals and surprised out-of-towners with its casual elegance and affordable fare.

Habitués of the quiet, quirky Abbey, which was sold in July to accommodate the monstrous Setai, will be happy to know that its beloved chef, Kira Volz, is back in the old neighborhood.

Since early December, the Michigan native has been cooking at another little-known hotel that's even more out of the way. On the corner of a one-way street between Collins Avenue and Flamingo Drive, the Indian Creek Hotel stands out not only for its sleek, Pueblo Deco lines and sunshine-yellow facade but its shabby surroundings, complete with derelict buildings, gypsy cats and, thankfully, a decent number of metered parking spaces.

Israel-born brothers Jacob and Rony Oved, who also own budget boutique hotels in Manhattan, have undertaken a much-needed major renovation. In the meantime, the minuscule lobby dining room and lushly landscaped patio can make a magical setting, especially when the weather permits al fresco seating near the domino-tile fountain.

Though the more ambitious tagines and paellas of Volz's Abbey days are gone, the alluring flavors of Morocco, Turkey, Greece, Spain, Italy and Africa are much in evidence on her compact travelogue of a menu.

You cannot go wrong with her signature shrimp fattoush, an earthy chopped salad of romaine lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, scallions and onions tossed with an abundance of fresh cilantro, mint and parsley in a sumac and lemon vinaigrette.

Served alongside, the toasty pita wedges baked with a nutty blend of sesame seeds and aromatic sumac are addictive. Try them, too, with a tiny platter of hummus-like white-bean purée, red pepper pté and minty homemade yogurt.

The salads, including the petite house version with tiny red heirloom tomatoes and the grilled romaine with a sheer drape of Parmesan, are all outstanding.

Gorgeous, fresh greens of all descriptions takes dishes to another level. A goat cheese brick wrapped in phyllo dough and drizzled with spiced honey is rich, delicate, sweet and creamy all at once. Served on a bed of crunchy pea shoots that tasted if they had just been pulled from the earth, it became a masterpiece.

Our one dud was a so-called Tuscan tomato soup that was as thin as dishwater and spicier than a mouthful of salsa. When we complained, the waiter whisked it away and return moments later with profuse apologies. It seems Volz was out of the kitchen and a novice sous chef had mistakenly filled our bowl with a jalapeño-spiked stock meant for the mussels.

The smoky broth was, in fact, perfect for the baby black Mediterranean mussels garnished with tons of fresh tarragon. All of the seafood we sampled was well-treated, including a divine grilled tuna on a warm salad of wilted fennel, crunchy grilled bread and cherry tomatoes in a textbook balsamic vinaigrette. Also superb on a chilly evening: a hearty monkfish stew in a saffron broth given added dimension by green olives, crisp bits of carrot, bell peppers, tiny mussels and cubes of smoky chorizo.

Unbelieveable as it may seem, no entree costs more than $22. (I have paid that for a cocktail at the Setai.) The equally affordable wine list includes a number of great values and lots of offbeat labels from Portugal, France, Austria, Italy, Oregon, Chile, Australia and California. Most prices seem to be about double retail, compared with the usual 300 to 400 percent markup.

While not trained in white-glove service, the floor staff is endearingly friendly and thoroughly passionate about the food.

The restaurant could use a better selection of dessert wines to accompany the many luscious choices, including a chocolate-cherry bread pudding with warm brandy sauce and vanilla whipped cream and an outrageous baklava served in rounds with lots of coarsely chopped pistachios and pools of honey-laced yogurt and sweet apricots. A single slice of preserved lemon was a perfect counterpoint.

A dense but bittersweet chocolate pot de crme had seen a few too many days in the refrigerator but showed great promise in its simplicity. Like the restaurant itself.