“We would have never heard this inside the old Laurel,” I mused to my dining companion as a mélange of low-beat trance music billowed from the exceptional sound system. At one point, even a subdued Macy Gray track entered defiantly into the mix.

The long-established Laurel restaurant, known for its starched decorum and Nordstrom-like milieu has undergone a sweet makeover. New owner Tracy Borkum (the brains behind Chive and the Kensington Grill) executed a remodel that preserves Laurel’s sophisticated statehood while making it decidedly more accessible to those with contemporary tastes.

The baby grand piano that formerly stood guard in the raised foyer is gone, as are the heavy fabrics and bulky light fixtures. Instead, a crisp motif adorned with Swarovski crystal chandeliers and patterned black molding creates a hip feel without plunging it too far into the trendy zone. Subtle punches of color, along with the judicious use of mirrors and banquettes upholstered in men’s wear pinstripes give Borkum’s scheme a smart, breathable finish.

For anyone who felt that Laurel’s food was good enough left alone, the new menu she developed with Executive Chef Fabrice Poigin doesn’t disappoint. One category, a brilliant come-on for casual visits, is the “Grazing” lineup organized into veggie, seafood, meat and cheese board selections. Most of the dishes are tapas sized, although the Spicy Tofu and Japanese Eggplant served in a deep bowl with bean-thread noodles was substantial – and flavored lovingly with green onion and coconut milk.

We also tried the Gooey Cauliflower Floret, a lip-smacking permutation to good old-fashioned mac-and-cheese sans the noodles. The florets are baked with manchego cheese and crowned with diced pancetta and toasted breadcrumbs. It’s chewy, crunchy and creamy all at the same time.

Also, the organic salmon cured in black tea was pleasing in its rose-shaped presentation. Chilled in miso broth, the fish was complimented with sticky rice and avocado mousse to accent its freshness. Yet if you’re looking for an ultimate match to any red wine varietal, the Sausage X3 is a must. The trio, which changes weekly, featured smoked buffalo, venison infused with elderberry wine and French merguez lamb. Each sausage was cut into tulip-shaped slices and arranged standing in a narrow ceramic trough. Their flavors alternated from jerky-like to mildly spicy to delicately gamy.

From the “Traditional Dining” menu, we opted for Hearts of Romaine dressed with a snappy black olive vinaigrette that quelled the bitterness of the lettuce. But the Heirloom Tomato Salad was much better, almost cherry-sweet and speckled with mint and basil.

Dabbling deeper into the wine list (which my wine-broker companion assessed as “one of the best in the city” because of its affordable choices by the glass and bottled selections of Old World pinots and classic Burgundies) we encountered more superior chow that took us to France and North Africa.

At last, a roasted chicken with crispy skin that so many restaurants can’t seem to achieve. The half-bird sported dense meat, which became all but sexually stimulated as it approached the Gouda and arugula stuffing. A puddle of homey jus on the plate gave further rise to the chef’s French heritage. Equally sensational was an accompanying casserole of creamy white corn with morel mushrooms – a tongue-popping creation garnished with shaved truffles.

My companion’s Moroccan Spiced Rack of Lamb proved that busy dishes don’t always mean a collision of flavors. Borkum’s claim that the menu has been tweaked and refined “over and over again” pans out. The medium-rare chops were drizzled with an olive reduction that paired justly with the meat’s salty edges. A roasted white peach and baba ghanoush sparkled on the side as medjool dates and black garbanzo beans tumbled from a heap of Israeli cous cous.

Among the menu items that are obscure for San Diego standards are Kurobuta Pork Belly, Veal “Filet Mignon” Macaroni and Goat Cheese, and Ostrich Carpaccio spiced with lemon myrtle. Yet Borkum insists that Laurel’s new approach isn’t one that intimidates patrons into ordering full meals. Both the bar and dining room are tailored for hanging out with friends and seem to be attracting more faces from within the GLBT community.

Desserts are tastefully presented. A bread pudding made with artisan figs and anise included a quaint lineup of three sauces contained in mini pitchers. The orange zest crème anglaise, we felt, took the blue ribbon. More lavish in size was the Chocolate Stout Cake, which broke apart into heavenly chunks amid plump, fresh berries.

The new Laurel is less of a rescued sinking ship than an utterly refreshed version of its old self. For anyone looking for a comfortable, stylish haunt with good food and wine, this address soars to the top of the list.