Just when size, noise and flash began seriously infecting local restaurant design, around 1995, John Bentley fled in the other direction. His 50-seat restaurant in Woodside resonates soft and clear. Bentley's personal statement involves two well-dressed but not stately rooms.

Service fits the setting. Knowledgeable, personable and attentive, our server was genuinely pleased when we liked the wine he recommended. He steered us away from two at comparable prices -- and one even more expensive. He checked to see how everything was, without intruding. Timing was just right, down to the pouring of water. He should have volunteered prices on specials but, otherwise, was a gem. The other server in the room, we noticed, also had conversations with patrons, explaining why she really liked this or that.

The one-page wine list, on the back of the one-page menu, emphasizes locals -- Page Mill, Fogarty, Mount Eden, Ridge, Cinnabar. Only the least expensive wines are listed by the glass, starting at $5.50. You won't find deals here, but it's a well-chosen 95-percent-California list. Corkage is $15.

Sourdough bread is accompanied by a spicy eggplant puree, a refreshing twist. We had one entree split as an appetizer. Two succulent soft-shell crabs were pan-fried to a clean crab eminence. Their lightly crisped bodies rested on a bed of greens with red and yellow beets, thin sliced tomatoes and baby tomatoes.

The other two table mates had a luscious cup of Creole bisque with five rock shrimp, and a special recommended by the server, black mission figs split and roasted with a top hat of rich and creamy Gorgonzola and drizzled with balsamic vinegar. Bentley alternates these with a cold version topped with Roquefort. Both are excellent summer concepts.

Petaluma duck was roasted and set with a timbale of wild rice, mushrooms atop. Six slices of fillet were fanned to be dipped in caramelized citrus sauce or cranberry confit.

The steak, grilled New York, had two pats of blue-cheese butter that melted in, and it came with horseradish Yukon gold mashed potatoes, silky caramelized onions and colorful lozenges of summer vegetables.

Bentley's apple tart in puff pastry is legendary, with dried-cherry ice cream. The milk chocolate creme brulee isanother great choice.

from the San Francisco Chronicle:

In the nearly four years since it opened, John Bentley's has settled comfortably into its environment. Chef-owner John Bentley serves sophisticated versions of classics -- like grilled steak, roast veal chop and seafood stew -- in the type of rustic yet elegant setting that fits the Woodside neighborhood. Much of the time, the food is on the mark, making the restaurant worth a visit from other neighborhoods as well.

The nearly 80-year-old building is a town historic landmark, and Bentley has preserved it well.

Starters are especially nice. A fall baby-spinach salad ($5.95), with chunks of grilled pear and Gorgonzola, barely glistens under a whisper of mustard-sherry vinaigrette, just enough to meld the flavors. Sun- dried tomato aioli makes a perfect partner for smoky-tasting roasted artichoke ($7.95). A substantial quesadilla ($8.95) stuffed with roasted butternut squash and crumbled goat cheese is equally inviting

Service is informed, professional and friendly.

From the Palo Alto Weekly:

On the outside, the 75-year old building is as quaint as its environs. On the inside, it is an upbeat, intimate dining experience with a contemporary American menu that isn't afraid to have fun with flavors. There is nothing stuffy about dining at John Bentley's. It is casual, yet elegant enough that you wouldn't be out of place in a necktie. And it is intimate. The scant 19 tables are divided between two rooms, one narrow, woodsy and cheery, the other an outdoor covered patio that opens to dining al fresco come summer.

On the evening we were there, the service was impeccable. Our water glasses and bread basket were kept fresh, and our waiter was friendly, knowledgeable about the food, and had a great sense of humor. Better yet, he also had that uncanny knack for appearing and disappearing at all the right moments.