Brunch is more like it at Bar Breton.

254 Fifth Ave., near 29th St. (212) 213-4999.
Dinner: Sun.-Thu., 4 p.m.-11 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 4 p.m.-midnight;
brunch: Sat.-Sun., 10 a.m.- 4 p.m.
CUISINE: Casual French bistro
VIBE: A bit like home
OCCASION: Brunch, casual date
DON'T MISS DISH: Croquettes de bacalao, Chelsea buckwheat galette, Mont Saint-Michel galette, Red Eye cocktail
PRICE: Appetizers $11; entrees $21; desserts $7
RESERVATIONS: Accepted

I think Bar Breton should change its name to Brunch Breton. Even Breakfast Breton would make more sense. Because the best dishes on the dinner menu are items you'd order for breakfast.

Cyril Renaud, the chef and owner of this new restaurant on Fifth Ave. near 28th St., is from Brittany - or, as the French say, Breton.

And Brittany is famous for its galettes. Galettes Breton aren't dainty or delicate crepes. They're not wafer-thin platforms - edible plates - piled with strawberries or slathered with Nutella, honey or chocolate.

What sets them apart from traditional, white-flour crepes is that galettes Breton are made with buckwheat flour. Unlike refined wheat flour, buckwheat flour, ground from buckwheat seeds, tastes bold and slightly bitter, with a dark whisper of mushroom. And this makes galette an entirely different and better beast altogether.

At Bar Breton, all the savory galettes are good. Take the Mont Saint-Michel. It's a warm galette layered with nicely charred slabs of ham, Gruyère and a sunnyside up egg.

My favorite is the Chelsea galette - smoky shreds of chorizo, sweet onion confit and an over-easy egg - which is only served for breakfast. This is unfortunate, because it's one of the best dishes at Bar Breton.

The only dish that really stands out on the dinner menu is the croquettes de bacalao, ping-pong balls of salt-cured cod bound together by a bechamel-like sauce and served with rosemary aioli. As for the rest, the seared scallops bored me to tears, as did the black sea bass and a dried-out duck-leg confit salad. Even the burger was a bore.

This is surprising when you consider that the chef earned a Michelin star at his first restaurant, Fleur de Sel, an upscale French restaurant just down the street from Bar Breton. (Sadly, Renaud has just announced that Fleur de Sel will close at the end of the month.)

We all love the idea of eating brunch at home. Bar Breton is so homey that the only thing missing is your bedroom right next door. There's a faux fireplace, mismatched chairs and an enormous cupboard filled with teapots, teacups and ceramic pitchers that servers dip into frequently. In the back dining room hangs a cluster of black-and-white photos of Renaud's family taken from the 1920s.

I trust a Frenchman's taste in pastries, and Renaud goes straight to the source, importing his croissants and pain du chocolat from Brittany. And I'm learning to trust a Frenchman's taste in morning cocktails. Before Bar Breton, I'd never had brunch in a mug. Order the Red Eye and out comes a mug full of freshly pureed tomato juice, vodka, horseradish and a swizzle stick of bacon. Bobbing in its midst is a barely poached egg dusted in smoked Spanish paprika.

Or try Denise's Bloody Mary. I'm not sure who Denise is, but she must be a hell of a woman. She drinks her Bloody Marys with house-infused lime tequila, sardines en escabeche and cornichons. How does it taste? Odd and oddly excellent, especially on a roll-out-of-bed Sunday afternoon.

CUISINE: Northern Italian.
VIBE: Elegant and deafening Murray Hill spot.
OCCASION: Casual date; breakfast; neighborhood dining.
DON'T MISS DISH: Cabbage with farro; caviar-topped potato with egg; monkfish and foie gras.
PRICE: Appetizers, $9-$24; entrees, $20-$43; dessert, $5.
RESERVATIONS: Highly recommended.

323 Third Ave., at 24th St., (212) 683-3035. Breakfast, lunch and dinner; seven days a week, 8 a.m.-3 a.m. Dinner served seven days, 5 p.m.-midnight. Bar menu available till 2 a.m.

Whoever heard of a month-long wait for a reservation at a restaurant at 24th and Third? But that's what you get when brothers Joe and Jason Denton open a restaurant in Manhattan. Most of their places - 'ino, 'inoteca, Lupa - have been rustic, wine-focused spots. But at Bar Milano, on the border of Gramercy Park and Murray Hill, they're challenging themselves and their clientele with upscale cooking that shows real imagination. The Northern Italian food is not always successful, but it is often enough to justify the wait.

Consider the cabbage. You'd hardly expect this appetizer to be the best thing on the menu. But what a cabbage! Such a humble leaf until it's stuffed with farro, dried currants and cherries and anchored in a chicken and cabbage consommé. Then it becomes a Cinderella story. The anonymous oysters that accompany it - dredged in farro flour - are almost an afterthought.

Or imagine the patata imbottita - thinly sliced potato wrapped around two egg yolks with a salty caviar cap in a warm puddle of fontina. It's breakfast by another name and every bit as satisfying. The veal chop is just as pleasing - veal two ways in a single chop, crusty and breaded Milanese-style on one side, naked and tender on the other.

One sign of the culinary aspirations at Bar Milano is what they do with foie gras. At most places, it takes a solo turn. Here, it plays a supporting role, which makes it all the more interesting. They pipe it into a savory quail mortadella. They use it to moisten a seared monkfish that would otherwise be too dry. Accompanied by sweet cipollini onions and chanterelle, porcini and morel mushrooms, it is a perfectly balanced entrée.

Not everything works, of course. Most of the pastas are disappointing - the shrimp ravioli was reminiscent of take-out potstickers. The tagliatelle Bolognese, lightly glossed in a hanger steak ragu, wasn't robust. Neither was the veal-stuffed pasta, served in a faint reduction with stale drifts of breadcrumbs.

This is not to fault the ambition at Bar Milano. The two chefs, Steve Connaughton (Lupa) and Eric Kleinman ('inoteca), have obviously set an example that motivates their staff. Our server was extremely well-versed in the subtle nuances of every dish on the menu. And in answer to a question, one of the owners brought out a 1984 cookbook called "Pâtés and Terrines" to show us the photograph that inspired the quail and foie gras appetizer.

The only distraction in the dining room at Bar Milano is the noise - at times unbearable - which echoes off the marble walls and glass wine cabinets. If you ordered the seven-course tasting menu, you'd be deaf by dessert. We gave up trying to talk by the arrival of the stracciatella parfait, tiny chocolate cones filled with goat's milk gelato. The real din is in the bar, which is to the dining room as a concession stand is to a movie theater.

Most nights it's shoulder to shoulder with people who seem to have no intention of leaving the bar. Nobody has ever accused the Dentons of not knowing how to turn a profit. You'll need a stiff drink to brave the crowd. I'd suggest the killer Corpse Reviver.

A culinary homage to the Hudson Valley.
72 Madison Ave., between 27th & 28th Sts.,
(212) 725-4900
Dinner, Mon.-Sat., 5:30 p.m.-1 p.m.; lunch, Mon.-Fri., 11:45 a.m.-2:30 p.m.

CUISINE Modern American.
VIBE Dated elegance.
OCCASION Group dinner; neighborhood dining.
DON’T-MISS DISH Grouper ravioli; roasted rabbit; white peach & cherry mousse.
PRICE Appetizers, $11-$18; entrees, $24-$38; dessert, $8-12.
RESERVATIONS Recommended.

New Yorkers take their neighborhood restaurants seriously. Every new eatery that opens around the corner reinforces the notion that you live in an important culinary zip code. Olana, which launched on the fringes of the Flatiron District two months ago, is a refreshing addition for residents along what has been a lonely stretch of lower Madison Ave.

Olana doesn't strut for attention with glitzy decor. The setting is civilly outfitted with spacious banquettes, red mohair chairs and cherry wood paneling. With its hand-painted murals and landscape paintings of the Hudson Valley, the dining room looks like an art exhibit devoted to this rustic region of New York. Ignore the harsh glare of illuminated light boxes with even more landscapes and focus your attention on the refined American cooking, which bows to ingredients from the Hudson Valley.

Tapping into his Italian roots, chef Al Di Meglio (Osteria del Circo) gives some of his strongest performances among a generous selection of house-made pastas. Saffron-tinged ravioli, plumped with moist grouper, are scattered with ramps and a hailstorm of crispy capers. Di Meglio binds a fresh mint leaf between two doughy rectangles, before throwing crumbled sausage, roasted peppers and eggplant puree into the tasty mix. He also produces a terrific bowl of veal and ricotta cappellacci glossed with a tangy tomato sauce. In fact, the only weak link among the pasta dishes was the spaghetti alla chittarra, afflicted by a heavy hand of chilies and pancetta.

The pastas are worth the trip alone, but Di Meglio also manages to strike a delicate balance between decadence and homey comfort food. There's a roasted rabbit loin stuffed with apricot, foie gras and almonds, set over a hearty nest of cannellini beans. An appetizer of chicken liver and foie gras crostini layered with braised leeks and a poached duck egg is equally impressive.

At times Di Meglio tries too hard. A striped bass tartare mingled with mint, sunflower shoots and grapefruit benefited from neither Champagne gelée nor a frothy seafood broth poured tableside. Pan-seared chicken consorted with an overbearing array of sidekicks, including fregola, cipollini onions, roasted artichokes and fiddlehead ferns. And there was a jumbled marriage of filet mignon with a floppy semolina pancake, which was better suited to maple syrup and a cup of coffee than a juicy steak.

Even if you don't order dessert, Olana refuses to let guests part without a sweet ending of homemade petit fours and chocolate fondue. But when a pastry chef is as talented as Katie Rosenhouse, the desserts shouldn't be missed. Her contemporary approach to classics yields a Meyer lemon crème brulée finished with juicy blood orange, as well as a flaky rhubarb strudel with a gingerbread cookie bottom. The most thrilling option is a white peach and sour cherry mousse garnished with spiced pumpkin seeds and cornbread. It's a savory-sweet riot of textures and flavors that leaves a memorable last impression.

Sometimes you don't need a celebrity chef or hip trappings to get the neighborhood's attention. At Olana, a bowl of Di Meglio's pasta is incentive enough.