Por Frank Sabatini Jr.

When the former Pickwick Hotel reopened as the chic Sofia Hotel in 2007 after receiving a multimillion dollar makeover, it included a gastronomic cornerstone named Currant American Brasserie.

Staying true to the building’s 1927 roots, the architects bucked modern design trends in lieu of checkered flooring, stately arched columns and soft chandelier lighting. The result is a dining atmosphere that feels part Paris and part Manhattan.

Currant’s bill of fare mingles French classics with contemporary-American cuisine as well as a few Italian-inspired dishes. The food is graceful and comforting, and especially luxurious when encroaching on Chef Walter Manikowski’s open-faced croque monsieur or the double-cut grilled pork chop buried beneath a mesh of watermelon radishes, braised fennel and par-cooked red onions.

Manikowski, a certified chef of the American Culinary Federation, has helmed Currant’s kitchen for six years. He sources produce from local farms and appeases discerning consumers by making regular, seasonal changes to the menu.

The “market salad” recently captured an autumn bounty of sweet pears, juicy persimmons and luscious pomegranate seeds mingling with feta and fresh arugula, all dressed exquisitely in light Champagne vinaigrette.

Oddly, the restaurant’s namesake berry seen crawling up a few columns in hand-painted form doesn’t appear in the food too often, except occasionally in salads, cheese plates or a fly-by-night sauce.

“Currants have such a short season,” Manikowski said. “But we make use of them when they’re around.”

Complementing our salad was an urn of classic onion soup gratinee capped with Gruyere cheese rather than inferior Swiss cheese that some restaurants use when cutting costs. The broth was richly flavored with Port wine and judiciously salted.

As an herby, booze chaser, we imbibed on green gimlets garnished with jumbo basil leaves. The presence of refreshing cucumber puree in the drink did a fine job camouflaging the high-octane unity of Tanqueray, Cointreau and absinthe.

Other starters include roasted veal meatballs over mascarpone polenta, asparagus-prosciutto salad with a farm egg, and “popcorn of the moment,” which I savored in a previous visit when it was strewn with black truffle peelings.

This time around, we enjoyed a bigger dose of the truffles set atop potato gnocchi. But the knockout component was the pond of silky lemon and white wine sauce sitting beneath the bite-size dumplings. Rich and zesty, it was the dish’s show stealer that left us discretely spooning every last drop from the bowl.

The chef puts an American spin on the aforementioned croque monsieur by using Virginia baked ham instead of the classic Black Forest variety. The result is a homier, more familiar-tasting sandwich, served open-faced but otherwise traditional with dollops of béchamel sauce and a hefty blanket of toasted Gruyere cheese.

In regards to the pork chop, we couldn’t finish it due to its impressive girth. Just as well, since there is nothing more sinful for lunch the next day than a juicy bone-in chop covered in root vegetables, and with creamy celery root puree sitting alongside. The latter tasted better than buttery mashed potatoes, due likely to a generous dose of cream in the recipe.

Ranking among the top sellers are steak frites, filet mignon, ginger-maple duck confit, braised short rib ravioli, and the “brasserie burger” topped with cornichon-Dijon aioli and Irish white cheddar.

The beauty of Currant is that you can dine on sophisticated white-linen fare or opt for simpler dishes you’d encounter in a Parisian brasserie. The experience is what you make it, and without the pinky-finger pretense of a fine-dining establishment, despite its tastefully classic confines.

Skipping over a tempting Stump Jump dessert wine from Australia, we took a jaunt to the Land Down Under nonetheless with a dish called Pavlova, something Australians and New Zealanders have both laid claim to.

Offered this day as a special, it featured stiffened meringue topped with late-season berries glazed in citrusy Spanish Liqueur 43 — a fitting finale to San Diego’s endless summer and perhaps a signal that we’ll soon start seeing those tart, little currants pop into Currant’s fall dishes.

—Frank Sabatini Jr. is the author of “Secret San Diego” (ECW Press), and began his local writing career more than two decades ago as a staffer for the former San Diego Tribune. You can reach him at [email protected].