Like the plaintive rebetiko music that drifts through the oregano-scented air in the lantern-lit garden at Mandolin, the flavors of this Buena Vista East gem exude the soul of the Mediterranean.

Much of its charm comes by way of its sincere and hospitable owners, Erhan Kostepen, Ahmet Erkaya and Anastasia Koutsioukis, whose good taste and simple ambitions have created one of the most comfortable places in Miami to spend an afternoon or evening. They've merged their backgrounds -- the guys are Turkish, she's Greek -- to create a menu of alluring dishes that are, for the most part, skillfully executed.

Meals begin with a small brown paper of pide, a sesame-flecked Turkish flatbread served straight from the oven. If you can resist the aroma, save it to dunk in the hummus, fava puree and, best of all, rich walnut puree that comprise the Turkish sampler. The Greek trio of smoky eggplant, briny taramasalata and tangy tzatziki is equally good.

Actually, the waitress will bring you as much fresh-baked bread as you like. The staff seems motivated to please -- eager, attentive and friendly without being overly familiar. Our young server was quick to offer water, a plate for sharing and wine advice, including a taste of an unfamiliar Greek wine we ended up loving.

The tight international list -- some 25 bottles -- is Old World in style and perfectly suited to the rustic fare. Five beers and an Aegean sangria made with white wine, apples, strawberries and touch of rose water round out the beverage selections.

Set in a whitewashed, blue-accented 1940s home, the dining room is cozied up with lace curtains, but the truly magical spot is beneath a broad shade tree that owner Erkaya says ``reminded me of home.''

Memories of too many tinny grape leaves were banished by Mandolin's pinky-size version stuffed with gently spiced lamb and beef. Dipped in tangy yogurt and drizzled with orange-tinged seasoned oil, they are exquisite.

I was also won over by soft but snappy squiglets of octopus that appeared, from their deep purple stains, to have spent considerable time in red wine before being grilled until slightly charred and nearly bursting.

Seafood, including tiny black mussels in a classic white wine and garlic sauce and shrimp ouzo with a peppery tomato and feta sauce, was spectacular. Most worth a repeat visit is the daily fresh fish, grilled until charred, especially the sea breem (also known as dorada or çipura) and yellowtail snapper.

The zucchini fritter, a bread plate-size disk like a fluffy potato pancake, is an earthy indulgence with a dollop of creamy yogurt sauce.

An arugula salad with beets is a symphony of bright, peppery and crunchy elements. The standard Greek salad with milky white feta and loads of red onion is also good. All, including the Turkish spoon salad, could use a lighter hand with the dressing and slightly perkier lettuces.

Wraps like the cheesy spanokopita in a grilled tortilla are fine but not a reason to come here, though the crispy hand-cut fries that come with all sandwiches might be. One of the few disappointments was a flabby moussaka that needed more flavor and less pasty béchamel and floppy potatoes.

Desserts -- just one each day -- reflect Mandolin's rustic sensibility. It might be house-made baklava, rice pudding or a simple Turkish tea biscuit cake layered with chocolate pudding.

The place is named Mandolin, says Erkaya, because ``that is the instrument that brought together the Greeks and the Turks.'' Well, really, it is the bouszouki, he concedes when pressed, ``but Mandolin is just so poetic.''

I couldn't agree more.