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Our very efficient and eloquent server at Miro District Food & Drink would do well to turn in his apron and pursue a career in politics. A glib presenter, he opened with a joke: "Good evening. Have you dined at Watermark before?" he asked, referring to the sister restaurant of the newly opened Miro. "Well, this is nothing like that, so I don't know why I asked."

Ba-dump-bump.

More importantly, he delivered a successful crossover message that simultaneously appealed to our most refined and well-traveled tastes ("This is the food you'd find in Southern France, Southern Spain and Western Italy...") while reaching out to our no-nonsense cravings for simplicity ("...as it would be prepared by working-class families in those places.") With such a broad platform, I half-expected him to offer an appetizer of universal health care with an across-the-board tax cut as an entrée.

Of course, any reference to working-class families is poetic lip service at Miro District, where martinis clock in at $15 and a grilled peach sells for $14.

But, oh, what a peach.

Since the restaurant's debut this summer, diners have been buzzing about the appetizer of luscious grilled peaches wrapped in salty, paper-thin prosciutto and served with candied walnuts, local honey and cool curds of fluffy homemade ricotta. An equation that balances sweet and salty, cool and warm, soft and crunchy, it's an elegantly simple combination that typifies the culinary style underlying Miro's menu.

Chef Dean Robb, a disciple of Birmingham restaurant don Frank Stitt and an alumnus of Stitt's Bottega restaurant, has put forth a roster of European-style cuisine that relies heavily on local and seasonal produce and best-of-the-best products, such as Italian-style cured meats from Molinari's and dried pasta from Manicretti's, both in San Francisco. The challenge for this dining showplace will be to make of those simple, satisfying ingredients something consistently extraordinary enough to pique culinary curiosity and merit top-dollar prices.

A meal at Miro starts out with a plate of warm breads and a bowl of olive oil. The ever-changing selection often includes focaccia, sourdough and a Pugliese loaf with the texture of pound cake and the subdued sweetness of brioche—baked fresh by pastry chef Sam Tucker. Don't fill up on the seductive baked goods, because chances are more fresh bread is coming at some point in the meal, either in a sandwich or flatbread or as a vehicle for the baked cheese.

The most successful of our appetizers proved the axiom that excellent ingredients prepared simply and combined thoughtfully should make excellent dishes. In addition to the grilled peaches, we marveled at the Capri salad. The bountiful medley of every conceivable tomato from Barnes Produce at the Farmers Market—tossed lightly in olive oil and topped with a tussle of fried onion threads—shone like a pile of cabochon gems in jewel tones of orange, red, green, purple and yellow. If the heirloom tomato salad disappears with the arrival of fall, mark your calendar for next summer when it—and the grilled peaches—returns.

Tomatoes also took center stage in the baked formaggio, for which a bed of Barnes' grape tomatoes was blistered—or "melted"—until the skins split, releasing orange liquor into soft salty curds of baked feta. Strewn with wilted leaves of pungent basil, the molten combination came with fluffy fingers of lightly toasted focaccia, which absorbed the rich liquid and added a sweet balance to the salty tang. (The formula of blistered fruit with cheese has a gorgeous counterpart on the dessert menu, where concord grapes sautéed in olive oil with rosemary and sugar accompany a cool, ethereally light vanilla bean panna cotta. Had we known about this dish before the dessert menu arrived, we would happily have ordered it as a sweet appetizer.)

Thinly sliced and faintly cooked disks of George's Bank scallops arrived with tangles of frisée, chewy hunks of diced bacon and lobster mushrooms, a delicate combination that allowed the buttery seafood to stand out. Four house-made ravioli stuffed with mashed potato, ricotta, lemon zest and thyme made a pillowy canvas for a pile of sweet lump crab meat, bits of pancetta and kernels of fresh corn, and made an easy appetizer for sharing.

While we heard several rave reviews about the flatbreads, especially the mushroom version, we had consistently disappointing experiences with the pizza-like appetizers. On two occasions they had the consistency of cardboard, with little in the way of toppings to enliven the base. Similarly, bland tomato soup went virtually uneaten at our table.

As is too often the case, alas, the appetizers at Miro outshone the main dishes, which in general favored sturdiness over creativity. We most enjoyed the simple, hardy delivery of sautéed trout scattered with capers and pancetta. (The dish will soon be replaced by a sole with fried capers, lemon-butter sauce and breadcrumbs.) While the straightforward and generous linguini al forno allowed tender shrimp, clams and spicy sausage to speak for themselves on a bed of noodles with subtle broth, it didn't bring anything exceptional enough to the table to merit the $27 price tag.