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

Maybe it's an Edina thing. You step inside the city limits and suddenly you rather like a restaurant server who eyes you suspiciously for several minutes, then approaches sniffily to ask what you want.

You don't mind paying 20 percent more for a loaf of bread with goat cheese and olive tapenade than you would, say, in Powderhorn Park. Or half again as much for a tiny appetizer-style hamburger as you would downtown. I don't know what it is. . . .All I do know is, I'm typically a bear about service and price, yet I keep going back to Beaujo's Wine Bar & Bistro because -- and I don't have any better explanation than this -- I just like it there.

In all fairness, a lot of it is quality. When you get that loaf of bread it comes with three really generous pots of the various spreads and a set of crackers, too, in case you're feeling less carb-consumptive than usual. When you order the Wasabi Ginger Salmon Salad you pay a hefty $14.50, but the greens are absolutely fresh and the julienned snow peas are crisp and the dressing has the most pleasing bite.

What's more, there's really not a bad table in the place (and I find this is very rare. . . .). There are a couple high four-tops in the front window that I particularly like. And all the others are against walls, so you're never sitting stranded in the middle of a room with servers brushing by you and carrying trays overhead.

Recently, Beaujo's made a couple changes. They've freshened up their wine list, adding some really excellent ones, like the Chateau du Trignon Cotes de Rhone, a Saint Pierre Sancerre, and the Alamos Torrentes from Argentina. Every wine they serve is offered by the glass, the half glass, or the bottle (which I LOVE because often, when I'm driving, 1-1/2 glasses is just right but two is excessive). They've added flexible wine flights to the menu: basically three half-pours for a set price. And they're now open on Sundays, starting at 3 p.m.

Personally, I'm very happy about this last bit of news. Because there's nothing I like more on a Sunday than a cheap matinee at the Edina Theater followed by a glass of wine. And no matter whom I've met at Beaujo's, they've been happy there: whether dining on salads or sandwiches or biscotti and tea.

The one thing, truthfully, that I still cannot figure out is the service. I have been ignored at this place for long stretches of time -- never in a hostile way, but I get the feeling that the women who man the bar (an odd phrase, I know. . . .but in this case, it's fitting) simply don't care if I stay and take off my coat or get tired of waiting and slip away. No matter how many times I visit, no matter how familiar I become, they approach in the same way: warily, as if I'm taking up their valuable time. Sometimes it makes me angry.

Then the wine arrives at a pitch-perfect temperature and the salad comes pretty and fresh and clean. And I forgive them. Again.