NEW YORK — An elegantly dressed couple smiled as two chocolate souffles with a lighted candle in each were set before them. The waiter reached for the woman's hand, kissed it, bowed to both and walked away while the couple exchanged what may have been the longest public smooch in history.

The Russian Tea Room — with its unapologetically unsubtle pageantry — is back.

The restaurant, founded by Russian Imperial Ballet members in 1926 and moved to its present location the next year, is one of those seemingly eternal emblems of New York, city of excess and reinvention. This despite the fact that its ornate doors have closed and reopened to great fanfare several times, most recently in the fall under the RTR Funding Group.

The first thing you need to know about the Midtown restaurant, besides its proximity to Carnegie Hall, is that yuletide cheer reigns year-round, thanks to forest-green paint and bright-red leather banquettes in the ground-floor dining room. The banquettes, perfect for three with views of the room for all, line both long walls of the rectangular space. Tables fill the room's middle in single file. Tea-less samovars, golden firebirds and framed art adorn the walls.

Understated, you say? The revolving bear and other extravagances added during the $30 million renovation in the mid-1990s are still in the second-floor dining room (opening to the public later this month). If they remind you of the gaudiness of Tavern on the Green, that's because the same restaurateur, Warner LeRoy, was responsible for both. LeRoy's millions couldn't ensure the Russian Tea Room's success; one review deemed it "appalling." It closed in 2002; the U.S. Golf Association bought the space, and in 2004 it was sold to RTR.

The menu prices are high; the dress code, for lunch at least, is not. We arrived on a recent Saturday afternoon spiffed up for the occasion, while across the room a turtlenecked family with two young children — looking more aprés-ski than afternoon tea — was intent on dessert. A group at another table (including teenagers in Uggs boots and short flared skirts) chattered away. The trio to our right, whom we pegged as fellow city dwellers, were reading a review in The New Yorker before ordering.

The lore (think boldfaced names and movie cameos) and decor are the reasons most people will come, but the food can be a draw as well. That is, unless you're looking for a wide range of vegetarian options or traditional Russian Tea Room fare. Chicken Kiev and beef Stroganoff are not on the main menu, though they are available upon request. Caviar, blinchikis and borscht seemed to be the only obvious Russian items available.

No matter. The autumn market salad ($17) came with gorgonzola croutons and a delicate dressing over a healthy portion of leafy greens. We enjoyed the clear ruby borscht ($14) flavored with strips of braised short ribs. The blinchiki ($16) was rich; one was just right. The organic king salmon ($28), crusted in black breadcrumbs, sat on a bed of cabbage and lentils, an unusual combination that worked, though the shrimp atop the artichoke risotto ($22) were oversalted.

The theater of serving, however, was more apparent than the service itself. And there's the rub, at least when an appetizer is $16.

Though three people greeted us upon entering, the staff was a bit scattered. A steady stream of waiters in double-breasted black coats with tails and gold buttons, busboys and a sommelier moved by, yet water refills came only after repeated requests. The brunch menu with the specials appeared only when we asked about vegetarian options. A waiter bearing a tray with a choice of black, sourdough or seven-grain bread moseyed on by twice. The bread was not heated, and on the second go-round, the tray was sparsely filled and missing the seven-grain.

These are quibbles, perhaps, but when you're out for an Occasion — and for most people, this is that sort of place — details matter.