“Meticulous reinvention” are the first words that came to mind when I returned to the stately and composed milieu that defines Molly’s. Long known as the perfect refuge for escaping downtown’s boisterous restaurant scene, the dining experience here has hit new highs on the food and service barometer while maintaining a peacefulness that seems almost alien to metro diners.

With the addition of a few punches of contemporary art mingling with the polished-wood interior, the restaurant has taken on a dynamic wine director who can astonish your palate by pairing even a salad to the right varietal. Her name, ironically, is Lisa Redwine. And she works the floor on most nights, zipping diplomatically from table to table with bottles from notable boutique winemakers in each hand.

There’s also a new, no-nonsense chef steering the menu in deliciously novel directions. What Brian Sinnott does with an appetizer of puffy squash blossoms, for instance, or an exceptionally tender Kurobuta pork chop entrée, gives all the more reason to pull up to the restaurant’s Marriott Hotel & Marina location and take advantage of the valet parking – free with validation. Sinnott’s well-constructed dishes and finesse presentations fit directly into the gloves of new-guard hotel dining.

My dining companion and I started out with Molly’s latest house drink, called The Boa. It’s a tongue-tickling potion of sparkling Domaine Carneros, black Muscat and raspberry liquor that’s kicky enough to loosen a few muscles and pretty enough to see served in the trendiest of bars.

Our dinner took off with an appetizer of Hand-Cut Papparedelle pasta strewn with chanterelles, spinach and bits of firm pancetta. Topped with wide shavings of rural-Italian pepato cheese, we could have eaten mounds of this dish, which I vote to have moved onto the entrée list. No less tantalizing was an order of fried squash blossoms, which appeared inflated with air but were filled with a creamy basil-ricotta mixture. The mellow blossoms paired superbly to pinot grigio, a recommendation given to us with confidence by Redwine.

The antiquated tradition of tableside Caesar salad (a production I always enjoyed when visiting here) is gone. It’s been revised by an attractive kitchen-made version that uses a full head of romaine drizzled with the tangy dressing and topped with cured white anchovies that quickly disappeared once my companion moved his fork toward them.

The Grilled Kurobuta Pork Chop held up to its high-grade reputation in both thickness and tenderness. It was my companion’s first encounter with a Kurobuta chop, and I knew exactly the oohs and ahs that would ensue. Sinnott pairs the meat with braised Tuscan kale and mascarpone-polenta fries that I would never think could stay intact because of the two soft ingredients involved. They’re just as clever as they are delicious.

Our other entrée, Braised New Zealand Tai Snapper, arrived with the unique accompaniment of grilled olive bread resting beneath, which soaked up some of the juices from the fish as well as the sweated-out leeks and baby fennel sitting alongside. It’s a salivating composition that will give veteran patrons of Molly’s a fresh perspective on the place, as will several other items that have landed on Sinnott’s tightly compiled menu: Baby Beets and Goat Cheese Soufflé, Olive and Herb Crusted Loin of Lamb, and Maine Diver Scallops with celeriac puree and thyme jus.

From a list of a la carte side dishes that include garlic and lemon sautéed spinach and comforting buttermilk mashed Yukon Gold potatoes, we vouched for baby brussels sprouts – cooked perfectly and adorned with capers and parmesan. Very good stuff.

The service at Molly’s is adroit without being pretentious; intimate without being ridiculously folksy. If you’ve never flown first-class overseas, you’ll experience a coveted taste of it here. The staff is well trained for catering to both the business set and patrons who demand pampering. If you fit into neither category, then soak it up as icing on the cake.

On the dessert front, we passed up the delights of renowned pastry chef Rudi Weider in lieu of some high-powered artisan cheeses that I find difficult to resist lately in such comfy establishments. The selection had us jumping from triple-cream Nocturne with an earthy rind of vegetable ash to Memoir Gouda infused with truffle to my favorite orange-colored French cheese, called Mimolette. Sour-cherry compote and fig-almond cake on the side, plus a late harvest chardonnay, provided the sweet finale to a dining experience that soars into excellence every time I visit.