The lakeside terrace at March Bacchus' Bistro Bacchus affords a break from the desert heat. Photo by Ralph Fountain.

There are a lot of things about March Bacchus' Bistro Bacchus that I really like, but one of the most novel is its wine selection.

March Bacchus began as a wine shop with a food counter, with the bistro evolving later. That provenance remains evident: While there's a printed list of wines by the glass, if you want a bottle, you're invited to get up from your table and make a selection from the adjoining shop.

I like that for several reasons: One, there's no problem with a wine list going out of date, which can happen with any shipment that comes in (this is why those electronic wine lists are more than a novelty). Two, it's just plain fun to walk up and down the aisles, peering at the cases of wine until you find one you like. And if that's not enough, the $10 corkage fee means you save big. Poking around for a Sauvignon Blanc to take the edge off a particularly sultry Southern Nevada evening and complement the fish dishes we were considering, I asked the maitre d'/management type to tell me the relative merits of two unfamiliar New Zealand wines. He did, but then recommended the 2003 Peju Province Estate-Bottled Sauvignon Blanc (at $16.99, in the same price category as my choices), which he said had a nice lemon-lime balance for its grapefruit. It did, indeed (great suggestion) -- and at $26.99 with corkage, it was well below the two-and-a-half-to-three-times retail we'd expect to pay in most local restaurants.

We'd looked longingly at the lakeside terrace as we were seated, but not being brave enough for the hundred-and-hellish-degree heat we've been having lately, we took refuge in the AC. Dinner would be cool, and light as well, we decided.

Which meant that the soup du jour ($6), chilled pea, would be the perfect way to start. "Chilled pea?" you ask. Yes -- and very interesting, with curry notes, and a light, thinnish, oh-so-smooth texture, the whole bearing absolutely no resemblance to your grandmother's split-pea-with-ham.

Refreshing as well was the Salade de Pamplemousse ($8), which combined crispy-cold mesclun with astringent pink grapefruit sections, slices of avocado, chunks of roma tomato and a sprinkling of feta cheese, lightly dressed in a perfectly balanced roasted-shallot vinaigrette.

We usually like to mix entrees but stuck with the it's-hot-so-let's-go-light theme, eschewing a number of bistro classics in favor of the fairly broad fish selection. Pan-roasted snapper ($23) was so fresh-off-the-boat it should've had a green card. It was cooked until barely translucent and graced with large chunks of candied-ginger pineapple chutney for a tropical touch that showed admirable restraint and even blended nicely with the accompanying orzo risotto.

I was a little concerned that the flavors of the salmon Dijonnaise ($23) might be a little hearty for a midsummer's night -- mustard being characteristically autumnal -- but my worries were unfounded, again thanks to the chef's deft touch. The substantial Dauphinoise potatoes that accompanied it were a multilayered, multitextured wonder with notes of gruyere and creme fraiche.

We violated our plan with a hearty dessert, tarte Tatin ($7), opting for tradition in this inverted apple pie, and we weren't disappointed.

We weren't disappointed with anything about our dinner at Bistro Bacchus, in fact. Service throughout was flawless, with courses timed perfectly, wine and water refilled regularly, our waiter willing to let us linger over dessert as he amused an adorable baby at a nearby table.

Good restaurants tend to evolve over time, but some stumble here and there as they do. Bistro Bacchus, on the other hand, is striding along quite smoothly.

Las Vegas Review-Journal restaurant reviews are unannounced and done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@reviewjournal.com.