I wasn’t sure what to expect from Pope’s Tavern at the Oxford Inn. The restaurant’s website promised a “European Bistro,” but the place was called a tavern, which in my mind meant wood paneling, burgers and beer, and pictures of hunting hounds retrieving wildfowl. Bistros have French décor (in any case, no dead ducks on the walls) and serve classics like moules frites and profiteroles, right? Well, as it turns out, Pope’s Tavern at the Oxford Inn is a little bit tavern, a little bit bistro, a little bit fusion, and—with very few exceptions—a whole lot of good.

Partners Dan Zimbelman and chef Lisa MacDougal bought the Oxford Inn in February 2005 and went through a major remodeling of Pope’s Tavern (though they kept the former restaurant’s name) before opening for business last April. (The inn offers eight guests rooms as well as the restaurant.) And their work shows. The dining room reflects a bistro personality with its burgundy and gold walls and tablecloth linens and lively rooster prints that decorate the room. It’s all held together by a gloriously preserved tin ceiling.

After a warm greeting from Zimbelman, a ginger-haired man with what seems like a perpetual (and genuine) smile on his face, my husband and I are shown to our table by a window near the bar by a somewhat less energetic server. Her bored look and the limited offerings by the glass on the wine list threaten to dampen my enthusiasm, but I order a glass of Cristalino NV Brut Cava, a serviceable sparkler from Spain, and my husband orders a Bombay Sapphire martini. We nibble crusty rolls, dipping them in the cruet of olive oil andreggiano Parmesan cheese and dotted with cloves of roasted garlic, as we take in the other diners.

Next to us, four women celebrate a birthday. An older couple behind us speak what sounds like Italian, and a group of five move with ease through the dining room like well-seasoned regulars. Throughout the evening, Zimbelman’s conviviality never flags. If he doesn’t know everyone in the restaurant, he certainly will by the end of the evening.

I’m charmed by him and by the offerings on the one-page menu which, on this evening, feel more fusion-inspired than classic bistro. I sip my drink, wanting to take my time and mentally savor the idea of crispy shrimp “wrapped in angel hair pasta and flash fried” and debate whether I want tuna tartar as a starter or the seared ahi with wasabi mashed potatoes as an entrée. But my reverie is interrupted by our server asking us to order.

“A few more minutes please?” we ask. She turns away, shrugging, only to come back sooner than expected.

“Just a little bit longer?” we plead. She turns, but she’s back again in no time. Feeling pressured, we order starters.

When my husband’s spring squash blossoms arrive, I immediately demand a sample. The crisp, tempura-dipped zucchini blossoms are stuffed with sweet lumps of lemon-splashed crab and drizzled with a saffron cream sauce. The texture is marvelous—crunchy, delicate, and oh-so fresh, and the effect of the bright yellow sauce on the black plate is quietly elegant. My grilled bundles of asparagus and prosciutto drizzled with balsamic syrup and blue cheese are also a winning combination. Although I would have liked the vegetables a little less firm, my husband pronounces the texture just right, while he sneaks syrup-splashed cheese from my plate.

As we use the last of the bread to sop up the sauces from our starters, two salads of basic microgreens garnished with a crispy frico—cheese that has been shredded and baked until crisp—materialize out of nowhere. MacDougal and Zimbelman feel strongly about including a salad gratis with the entrée, and it is an old-fashioned courtesy whose revival would be welcome. Yet I wish I had known it was coming (neither the menu nor our server mentioned the salad) so that I might have ordered a bit differently or simply paced myself a little better.

We’ve been debating over flounder française, the sea bass over crab stuffing, or the lamb chops,but we ultimately take our cues from the server and choose the seared ahi tuna and the pan-seared duck breast. I swoon over the two generous ahi fillets, seared and rolled in black sesame seeds on the outside and gloriously ruby as a grapefruit inside. Its freshness (we later find out it was from Ocean City) pairs nicely with the spicy tang of the accompanying wasabi mashed potatoes.

My husband’s duck is a little more rare than the medium rare he requested, and our server, uncharacteristically gracious, twice offers to have the chef prepare a new plate for him (he declines). That aside, the duck is moist and flavorful, but the real stars are the garnishes. A poached pear, reminiscent of the spiced apple rings you might find on your table at Thanksgiving, but infinitely more subtle and high-class, nestles in a rich port sauce. Then there’s the trompe l’oeil “pear,” really a potato croquette flavored with blue cheese, formed into a pear shape and deep fried, so that it resembles an elegant Bosc, complete to the clove “stem” at its tip.

Our dessert experience is some-what hit or miss. MacDougal’s Grand Marnier-tinged fudge sauce on the profiteroles is good, and the pastry is more than adequate, but the whole dessert is undermined by unremarkable ice cream and what tastes like canned whipped cream topped with a maraschino cherry. (MacDougal hopes to have a gelato maker next year; I can’t wait.)

The bread pudding, however, is perfect. Tonight’s offering is feather light (especially for bread pudding) and dotted with bits of chocolate and raspberry; I could have inhaled the entire dish in two bites, even though I swore up and down I had no room for dessert. My quibbles with Pope’s Tavern are few. I’d welcome more diversity in the wine and beer selections, and I’d like to plan for the salad. My other criticisms revolve around service.

Perhaps the woman who waited on us was having a bad evening, but she did nothing to enhance our dining experience. I suspect this is the exception rather than the rule based on Zimbelman’s graciousness and the behavior of the delightful young woman serving the birthday ladies—I overheard her making shopping suggestions after one of the ladies complimented her earrings—and noted her taking photos of the friends. I don’t need to make friends with my server, but patience and pleasantness should be part of the evening’s offerings.

Chef MacDougal’s philosophy is “simple ingredients prepared simply.” I’m not sure I would classify Pope’s Tavern’s preparations as “simple,” but like the debate between whether the restaurant is a tavern or bistro, I’m not sure that it really matters. Perhaps the slogan should be fresh ingredients prepared artistically…and deliciously.

Mary K. Zajac is a food writer living in Baltimore.