Love is in the air at Talula, newest dining denizen of the Bass Museum neighborhood in Miami Beach. Chefs Andrea Curto-Randazzo and Frank Randazzo, husband and wife since fall 2001, brushed off the rice and shed the gown and got to work incubating their dream project, and it's the Beach's best newborn in some time.

Their menu is something old, something new -- assembled in part from dishes invented during previous chefdoms at Wish (she) and Gaucho Room (he). Sounds like risk of a mishmash, but it is not: Both are Italian American, and they've worked together off and on for nine years, starting with New York's TriBeCa Grill, with a stop at the Heights in the Gables, as well.

Talula took over a somewhat ill-fated spot on 23rd Street, a scant block west of Collins. The venue has housed a couple of outstanding restaurants: the Mexican-themed Divina, and the nouvelle Caribbean-Asian fusion style Chow, neither of which lasted very long. It is too soon to call it a haunted house, and Talula has done pretty brisk business in the few summery weeks it has been open, although the nicely renovated outdoor patio isn't doing that well so far.

Food is complex and creative without being fussy. Ingredients are largely familiar, but they're assembled in unusual ways, with some outright surprises. Take a primo starter, barbecue quail ($12). Sidle up to the shiny open kitchen and watch the little birdie get rubbed with a puree of dried cascabel chiles, garlic and charred onion and then flash-grilled to a char. It goes atop sautéed oyster mushrooms and watercress, and here's the surprise: two lush agnolotti stuffed with cascabel chile and sweet potato puree; a drizzle of maple syrup adds sweetness. The beauty here is the chile flavor (not hot, just intense) against the thick sweetness of the potato.

Each night there's a soup special, and portobello bisque ($9) is quite special. It's a homemade mushroom stock with a puree of portobellos and other mushrooms plus shallots, cut with ample cream. A single ravioli stuffed with Gouda cheese and truffle oil rests at the bottom of the bowl, a heavenly touch.

Fresh Caicos Islands conch ceviche ($12) is marinated to order in the juices of lemon, lime and orange, served with red onion, diced avocado and tomato and a yuca chip. The conch is unusually tender -- a must for ceviche. A bright, complex watercress salad ($8) features chunks of Maytag blue cheese, spiced pecans, dried cranberries and a lush champagne vinaigrette thickened by olive oil and Dijon.

Talula's menu has been evolving for months, and it continues to do so. The latest invention, the result of Curto-Randazzo's ''going ballistic'' in the kitchen (hubby's words), is black grouper ($24). It's glazed with red New Mexico Marisol chiles and lime, seared and presented with udon noodles in a zesty Asian broth of soy, mirin, lemongrass and ginger, plus garlic and sesame. Sweet and tart, with a light feel -- perhaps the lightest dish on the menu.

Another fish, yellowtail snapper ($22), is richer, thanks to a sweet potato-mushroom risotto with truffle oil, cilantro and lime, and a buerre blanc with Kafir lime and enokis. Snapper is crispy-skin sautéed, giving a pleasant crunchy texture, and sautéed arugula adds a sharp kick to all the sweetness and earthiness.

Steaks at Talula are priced by the ounce, $3.50 per, so our 10-ounce ribeye was $35. And it was classic ribeye, juicy and marbled and flavorful, simply grilled and served with garlicky mashed potatoes and sautéed Swiss chard, an upgrade over same-old spinach. Onion rings suddenly are popping up at places more glamorous than Burger King, and here they're battered with beer and ginger ale, making for a fluffy, fat ring.

Australian lamb rack ($32) is simply seasoned and grilled to order, beautifully flavored and tender. Sides make this dish, though: parsnip puree, sweet and luscious; charred plum tomatoes marinated in ancho chile; sautéed broccoli rabe.

Creativity defines the Randazzos' desserts ($7), although not always on purpose. A peach tart was invented out of a mis-timed dish of fresh peaches; they had to do something with them. The simple tart is paired with brilliantly conceived pink peppercorn ice cream, with a spicy kick and peppermint flavor; a reduction of muscat wine relives the Curto family's tradition of eating peaches with wine. Sweet potato crme brlée (house rule: You always need a crme brlée of some sort) was requested by a client and stuck around -- maybe because of the burnt marshmallow on top, Thanksgiving style. A little bit of American humor, but this place is nothing to laugh at.