It takes an 18-floor elevator ride and two escalators to the Top of Waikiki, in a building that's firmly part of pre-Beach Walk Waikiki. Driving up the aging green ramp to the parking garage brings back memories of old times.

Chef Sean Priester is all about memories - he cooks from his past, whether it's conjuring the flavors of his grandfather's classic South Carolina cooking or the Mediterranean tastes of a more recent trip to Spain. His 18 years in Hawai'i, which started with him cooking at the then-hot Sunset Grill, has infused him with Pacific and Asian culinary sensibilities.

A self-professed Army brat who did time from Munich to Monterey, Priester loves food - he can be spotted at restaurants all over town eating with gusto, and patrolling the aisles of the Saturday Farmers Market at Kapi'olani Community College. He may not have a CIA degree, but he's a doctor of cooking for the soul. (Did I just write that?)

Back story: Two years ago I visited Top of Waikiki, and was unimpressed by the heavy-handed food, so decided not towrite about it. But recent raves from Priester cult fans and the announcement of a new menu spurred a return.

And my, how he has grown as a chef. This food doesn't need to be judged by "restaurant-with-a-view" standards; it would be worth eating at any elevation.

Granted, Priester is cooking at a tourist destination, which automatically adds something-for-everyone menu requirements. On a recent night, a big party of happy, sunburned visitors, each with a sweating iced tea and a Southern lilt, was in residence. When their dinners arrived, there was a lot of beef on the table.

The menu is huge, with crowd-pleasers such as crab cakes and rib-eye steak - but even these American staples get Priester's own localized treatment. The crab cakes come with a green tomato jam made with Ho Farms fruit, and the steak shines with a soy-balsamic glaze and is accompanied by a side of Island-grown oyster mushrooms.

There are plenty of dishes that won't be found elsewhere, or at least not in Priester's permutation. His "fish and chips," for example, is a ceviche with what the server called a "mock guac," an addictive sweet potato-and-mango mash ($9). The only thing is, while the menu says the finely chopped ceviche is made with shrimp, day boat scallops, Hawaiian snapper and Kona kampachi, the seafood was indiscernible - a glitch that is easily remedied.

The Caprese salad ($11) is a refreshing mix of wedges of tomatoes (red and yellow, from Big Wave and Ho farms) and strawberries, a beautiful meeting of sweet and acid dotted with feta, mint, basil and mac nuts, in a light citrus dressing. (OK, I take back my previous edict to ban all Caprese salads from Hawai'i menus.)

Priester's awkwardly named "Indo-Latino Soul" shrimp and grits may sound like a global fusion nightmare, but its patchwork cuisine works, the crisp ancho-cardamom-rubbed grilled shrimp in a bath of peanutty coconut sauce, all atop creamy grits.

The dish brings up another point: The food is a bargain for what you get. At any other big-name restaurant, this $22 plate would have maybe five shrimps, tops. Here you get a whole colony of the crustaceans.

'Opakapaka is cooked sous vide Chinese style - with ginger, Chinese parsley and green onion - then it's seared with sesame oil. The first taste can be overwhelming, but mixed with the thick udon noodles underneath, along with bits of lup cheong and shimeji mushrooms, it all balances out. And again, $32 isn't a bad price for 'opakapaka these days (the pan-steamed equivalent at Alan Wong's is $35).

If Priester has a fault, it is that he doesn't always know when to stop. He sends out one of the best-cooked duck breasts on the Island ($26), but it's compromised with a l'orange sauce and blueberry balsamic reduction. One is good enough - some jus and the reduction would make it a solid winner.

Ditto the steak-and-shrimp napoleon ($34). The Niman Ranch flat-iron steak arrived a perfect medium rare, lusciously beefy with a little mineral flavor. But then it's topped with a leathery grilled portobello mushroom and a skewer of three kinds of mealy flour-dusted shrimp. From perfection to food potpourri. Some ingredients are meant to be naked, or draped with only a diaphanous dressing gown, so to speak. If that same steak was served with just the accompanying potato-bacon croquette and balsamic tomato sauce, I'd have it again and again.

Not everything is top-of-the-line. The Tapas of Waikiki multi-person pupu platter falls flat. Priester is going for a Town-like re-creation of pure flavors he experienced in Europe, but too many of those flavors are jammed together, and the execution was just middling - think banquet canapes. (The disks of potato, an attempt at a mini frittata, were rock hard.)

The most successful of this quintet of small bites is the Nicoise salad on a stick -15/16skewered cubes of tuna poached in olive oil, green beans, anchovies, olives and egg.

To go with the food is a well-balanced, and well-priced, wine list. It's no surprise there are a lot of chardonnays and merlots, but there are a few gems to keep things interesting, such as a 2006 Edmeades Zinfandel for $40 and an Isola Dei Nuraghi "Barrua" Santadi from Italy for $120.

Some people have an innate sense of aloha no matter where they're from, and Priester credits his loyal core cooking staff with a lot of the menu.

"There's a lot of collaboration to what we do; I use the analogy of jazz a lot," says Priester.

And then there's that view.

No matter how jaded you may be about life in paradise, seeing the Pink Palace below you in the dying light is bound to trigger a shiver down your spine.

Don't think of this as a tourist trap or special-occasion-only spot.

While it's not exactly a "revolution in cuisine," as the menu trumpets, Top of Waikiki does have a place on your regular restaurant roster.