The daily digest of Twin Cities culture | Secrets of the City

People say I can be a bit harsh. Like, say, Stalin. (See my husband for details.) I’m working on this.

Shortly after it opened, in June 2007, I wrote a screed about a Washington Avenue bistro called Spill the Wine because I went there one night and they served me glass after glass of lukewarm swill. It is true; this happened. Here are the mitigating factors: It was a 90-degree evening, their air conditioner (I later found out) had broken earlier that day, the staff was new and barely trained, and I was on a rampage largely because I'd been hearing from other dedicated wine drinkers that this is the one egregious mistake Midwestern retailers make again and again.

"Why can't they get it through their heads?" one reader had written to me earlier that week. "Room temperature means the interior of a drawing room in Alsace, not the temperature in your kitchen at the height of summer?"

So I did what you're warned never to do with children or sensitive brand-new restaurateurs. I made an example of Spill the Wine. Only to find last night, they've gone me one better. They've made an example, too: becoming in the year-plus since I first visited them perhaps the classiest, least expensive, most pleasant wine bar in town.

A friend and I snuck in around 5:30. (I was worried, of course, that someone might be waiting with a pack of pit bulls to sic on me.) We sat at a table for two under the cream-and-russet scarves and dangling vines of light that make this place as lovely and simple as a stage set. Within moments, a darling and attentive boy named Ben was at our tableside, encouraging us (!) to take advantage of the daily Happy Hour special which provides eight wines (four red, four white) for $15. There was also a menu of snacks, each for five.

We ordered the Manyana Tempranillo 2006, which retails for about $10, making the mark-up incredibly low by wine bar standards (it's usually 100-200%). This was served at an IDEAL temperature, the bottle ever so slightly cool in the hand. It's a lively yet smooth and simple Tempranillo that's full of cherry and plum and has that wonderful quintessentially Spanish note of whiskey in the bouquet.

After a long stretch - during which Ben returned to fill our glasses, get me change for the meter, and check on us at exactly the right intervals - we had a salad and some crusty bread. The bill for our two-hour wine date: $29 and change.

Now I suppose the possibility exists that I actually helped Spill the Wine achieve such greatness: by lambasting them for poor service on my first visit I set the bar high. I'd like to believe that, I really would.

But no matter what or how or why, the fact is that today, this is one of the best deals in town. It's cheerful and twinkling, humming but intimate. Service is impeccable. Prices are exceedingly reasonable. Even the soap in the ladies room was a delightful surprise with its subtle natural almond smell.

Just as Stalin's statue has tumbled, I have come back a kinder and gentler reviewer. Lucky for me, my first assignment turned out to be such a treat.