June 19 (Bloomberg) -- Park Avenue Cafe, a posh Manhattan joint in the city's priciest zip code, closed in May. It reopened two weeks ago. The new name is Park Avenue Summer.

It will close in a few months. How sad.

But it'll reopen in the fall. The new name? Park Avenue Autumn. Then it will shut its doors when things get chilly. In its place, Park Avenue Winter -- which will close and reopen as, yes, Park Avenue Spring.

Every season, the menu will change. The design will change. Staff uniforms, place settings, seating arrangements, wine displays all will change.

Is this seasonality on speed?

Perhaps, but it's what we expect. This Upper East Side venue has become famous for blending the ordinary with the odd.

Chef David Burke cut swordfish to look like pork chops here. It's where diners paid their age. After 8:30 p.m., 25- year-olds could select a three-course meal for $25. That same meal would cost folks 65 and older $65.

Pricing is simpler now: Expect to pay a lot. My two solo dinners cost $104 and $80. (I ordered a single drink on each occasion.)

Consider the increase as partly a design fee: The in-demand firm Avroko is responsible for Park Avenue Summer's new oceanic atmosphere. Gone are the ladies-who-lunch striped banquettes, red lampshades and wooden window blinds.

Now, white turtle shells hang from yellow wall panels. Reclaimed-wood ceilings are vintage barnyard. Bare tabletops and beachy foliage complete the Hamptons-in-Manhattan effect.

Big Bowls

This all comes courtesy of the savvy Smith & Wollensky Restaurant Group, whose waiters have eyes that are bigger than my stomach. A server recommended what turned out to be a family- size bowl of grits to accompany my he-man pile of buttery, in- shell langoustines ($45).

I was dining alone.

Craig Koketsu, who runs the kitchen at Wollensky's Quality Meats, is also top toque at Park Avenue. (At Quality, a server recommended a full pint of ice cream for my 90-pound friend.)

At Park Avenue, Koketsu serves serious food, but with a nod and a wink. Gazpacho with avocado returns from an old menu. What was a soup is now a cold red jelly with smears of green avocado and piles of white peekytoe crab.

Fluke sashimi is dotted with plum, cilantro and tiny sunchokes. Soft-shell crabs get passion fruit, avocado, white soy and strawberry. My waiter spent nearly a full minute describing a three-piece dessert that included a corn fritter, peach sorbet and an ethereal sweet-corn panna cotta.

Few dishes are simple. Many are amusing. Chef Burke would be proud.

Park Avenue -- umm -- Summer is at 100 E. 63rd St., at Park Avenue. Information: +1-212-644-1900; http://www.parkavenuesummer.com.

Oak-Smoked

New York owes a debt to Texas.

The Lone Star State exported Norah Jones to the Lower East Side, returned Roger Clemens to the Bronx and sent a giant pile of smoked sausage to the Flatiron District.

Welcome to Hill Country.

Here's how it works: Get a meal ticket from the host stand. Enter the dining room. Wait in line for house-smoked meat. Ask for a little bit of everything; they'll give you a lot of everything.

Meat mongers place your post-oak-smoked snacks on butcher paper, weigh them, then stamp your meal ticket.

Sit at a wood table, listen to live music and chow down on dry-rubbed meats. This is Texas-style barbecue, so don't expect wet, 50-napkin sauces.

Barbecue Sampler

Following are tasting notes from an opening-week visit.

Pork chop: Biggest I've ever seen, must have been a two- pounder. Assertively smoky on the edges, moist and porky within.

Glazed chicken breast: So tender I thought it was a thigh.

Kreuz sausage: Snappy casing, with a juicy, beefy interior.

Pork ribs: Crimson with smoke. Pleasantly chewy and salty.

Brisket: Dry, because it was lean; they were sold out of the fatty cuts. The beef had intense smoke rings but needed salt and pepper.

Mac & cheese: Not al dente, not overcooked, with a pure, intense cheddar rush.

Black-eyed peas: Woefully undercooked.

Deviled eggs: Cold and creamy, well seasoned.

Thirsty? Order straight tequila, mescal or beer. A tasting of cocktails was not promising.

Why does a vodka ``margarita'' need sugary agave ``nectar'' in addition to Cointreau? The Texas Nectar has bourbon, Southern Comfort, almond extract and orange juice. It tastes like almond- flavored O.J. The Bullet mixes bourbon and rum with Big Red soda. The pop adds more color than substance to this unbalanced, alcohol-heavy concoction. I'm sure gunpowder tastes better.

We'll take advice from Texans on meat, not cocktails.

Grab your meal ticket and pay at cashier. Our meat cost $59. Three drinks cost $28.

Hill Country is at 30 W. 26th St., near Broadway. Information: +1-212-255-4544; http://www.hillcountryny.com.

(Ryan Sutton is a writer for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this story: Ryan Sutton in New York at rsutton1@bloomberg.net.

Last Updated: June 19, 2007 00:16 EDT