What: Fish Bones American Grill

Where: 70 Lincoln St., Lewiston

When: Tuesday-Thursday 4-9 p.m.; Friday-Saturday 4-10 p.m.

Call: 333-3663 or go to www.fishbonesag.com

Atmosphere: There's a bar area that's reminiscent of Boston's Oak Room and a modern-industrial-themed dining area with a poetic-looking view of the kitchen. It's quiet, without being uncomfortably so, and the servers are attentive but don't hover.

Prices: On the higher side for Lewiston. Appetizers for between $7 and $11, main courses starting at $18 to $19 with most over $20.

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one couple to affirm the bonds that have connected them with each other ... Sorry guys. I've been watching PBS Black History Month and President's Day programming all week (where, oh where, has the Piemaker gone?).

But this week's Eats is all about Valentine's Day - and the love of good food. Sure, there are probably scores of Lewistonians and Auburnites who can afford a delicious $24 main course on a semi-regular basis. I, however, am not one of those people. Fancy restaurants, for me, are usually relegated to special occasions. Occasions I have to save up for, and for which I happily look forward to donning my favorite outfit and some extra mascara. And based on my experience with you, my dear readers, many of you are in the same boat.

So until this week, I'd never set foot in Fish Bones.

The restaurant is well known in these parts (by these parts, I mean the newsroom). A dear co-worker of mine proposed to his (now) wife there, and speaks with reverence of the meal they shared there. Another went for an anniversary and says it was "very, very good." In fact, everyone I've spoken with who's actually eaten there has nothing but glowing praise for the place.

I was a little leery of dropping big bucks to find out if I agreed with them, but here at b we know there comes a time in everyone's life - cue the declaration up there - when it's necessary to go out for a fancy meal (on the company, or course). I duly made a reservation. Hubby and I got semi-decked out (just how decked can you get, I ask, when your footwear has to survive 6-inch-high piles of slush and your attire needs to be warm enough to keep you alive for three days if you get stuck in a blizzard on the soon-to-be-named "Bernard Lown Peace Bridge"?!).

When we stepped inside, we were immediately struck by the coziness of the bar area. With comfy seating and low lights, it looked like the type of place where you could sink in and sit all evening.

We were seated in the main dining room, near the kitchen. It's a large, industrial-looking space that capitalizes on its location in a former mill. There was a deep brown concrete floor (with a glorious patina), exposed brick on the walls and an open kitchen to catch your eye. Hubster and I both thought the lack of much real art (there was one older piece - print or painting, I couldn't tell - on one wall) a little incongruous. Otherwise, though, the decor was nice.

Our waitress, however, was really what made the atmosphere special. I can't really quantify what she did that stood out, but maybe that's it. She was very, very nice, but never hovered. She gave us a few menu tips when asked, refilled our water glasses with astonishing regularity and was very friendly, but she left us alone the rest of the time, absorbed in our Super Tuesday debate.

We were on the fence about ordering an appetizer, but wound up getting fish cakes. I was expecting something like crab cakes, which is what they looked like, complete with a light-colored dipping sauce and baby greens on the side. But where crab cakes are soft and gooshy inside, these were firm, full of bigger chunks of shellfish. They were fantastic.

We both ordered fish for dinner - seared sea scallops on a bed of risotto for me, sesame-crusted tuna sashimi for hubby. The meals came with a choice of soup or salad, and we both got Caesar. The salad, just like the fish cakes, was delish - real Caesar dressing with body, delicious thinly sliced bread crisps flavored with what tasted like pesto-infused oil. My only criticism there was that some of the lettuce was a little old and brown.

Shortly after we'd eaten what we wanted of our salads (trying not to eat too much, knowing what was coming), the main courses came out. They were both presented beautifully. Mine was superb. The scallops weren't overcooked - a major rarity these days - and the flavors of the leeks and tomatoes, risotto, scallops and sauce went perfectly together.

T. was in heaven. He kept closing his eyes and murmuring things under his breath. The flavors "melded perfectly," he raved. The tuna was so fresh that it didn't "taste fishy at all." The deep reddish Chinese brown rice, veggies, ginger and wasabe were amazingly divine. He begged me to try it.

Never having been a fan of tuna, of ginger, of Chinese brown rice, of wasabe or of anything even remotely sushi-esque, I demurred a few times. "You have to," he begged. "For the Sun Journal." I rolled my eyes and took a little bite. And I have to say, it was remarkably good.

After dinner - some of which I had boxed up to go - we ordered some vanilla creme brulee for dessert. As good as everything else had been, the brulee was easily the best part of the meal. I broke out in a grin and actually started laughing after the first bite. We dragged out the consumption of the little dish for almost as long as we'd spent on our main courses.

We discussed coming back again the next day for more dessert, but when we stood up - full as full can be - we decided to wait. At least for a day or two...