The circus is in town, permanently, or for what stands as permanently for a South Beach restaurant. The ringleader is Barton G., a guy who has earned the right to run around without a last name by conceiving, designing and outfitting some of South Florida's most extravagant parties.

Indeed, Barton G. The Restaurant is a perpetual party. The menu is a blend of campy humor with sophisticated fusions. Is that a $300 Beach hairdo walking by? No, it's a giant cone of cotton candy, spun to order for dessert. What's that, movie popcorn? No, it's popcorn shrimp, served in a popcorn box with popcorn spilling out of it, too. Is that a patty melt? Yes. The size of a half-dollar, threaded four to a serving on a rosemary skewer.

Completely fitting for Art Deco Miami Beach, and for a setting whose rich history includes longtime hangout Gatti's and the salsa club Starfish, Barton G. references the past in an amusing, colorful way. Old-timers on the Beach will be reminded of the Strand, probably the first upscale restaurant to open in the South Beach revival; it had a similar menu division between the precious and the routine, from fussy fish dishes to macaroni and cheese.

Decor is handsome, not silly, though -- although there are some amusing touches, such as a beautiful, monochromatic wall bearing geometrically positioned ''Fashion Roses of Holland,'' which appears to have no purpose other than to get you to look at it. Otherwise, it's all about buttery woods, comfortable chairs and booths, albeit in fairly cramped quarters -- the restaurant is not large, and it's very, very busy.

Our visit was on a weeknight, but Barton G. was at overflow thanks to a large but not obnoxious birthday party. Service was harried but did not suffer; staff is expertly trained. Barton G. is a place that appreciates ironic humor, that likes to make a spectacle, but it is a serious restaurant.

Cooking team includes executive chef Ted Mendez and chef Arthur Jones. Locally, Mendez has done time at the Fish Market, the best restaurant in the Omni when there was an Omni, as well as Dominique's at the Alexander. Jones has worked at a couple of Mark's and the Grand Bay. They are decorated pros.

Menu has plenty of choices and several price points. It would be possible to eat here for about $30 per person. One glass of wine, plus iceberg-beefsteak tomato salad and macaroni and cheese, but we think you can do this at home. Dine out.

We began with a big square bowl of heirloom tomato soup ($6). It begins with vine-ripe red heirloom tomatoes, plus a few sun-dried tomatoes, and they are pureed with roasted garlic and fresh herbs, then mellowed with a touch, not a blob, of heavy cream. You are bombarded with intense, delicious tomato flavor; the cream is there mainly for texture. On the side is that skewer of patty melts, chopped sirloin, American cheese on rye, baked and quite tasty.

The popcorn shrimp ($8) is Barton G.'s most popular thing. Baby shrimp are dredged in a spicy flour mix (cayenne, black pepper, garlic and onion) and quick-fried. They're tossed in a popcorn box with actual popcorn, and all is drizzled with a spicy Asian honey-chile sauce enlivened by cilantro and garlic. This is a fun gimmick; the flavor combo isn't far removed from Buffalo chicken wings, another popular finger food.

Another finger food, the lobster and chorizo taco ($8), is more sophisticated and interesting. It starts with a fried spinach tortilla shell, packed with shredded iceberg, cheddar cheese, chorizo and Maine lobster. Sour cream and tomato salsa on the side. The spicy sausage and sweet lobster make for nifty tongue play.

Barton G. chopped salad ($11) is a flavorful dice of green beans, cauliflower, avocado, chick peas, cucumbers, carrots, celery, beets, egg, crispy tortillas and Gruyere, tossed with a simple vinaigrette. On the side is a trio of dressings: Thousand Island, creamy Greek and honey mustard, and you get a little crunch from a crispy Parmesan touille. Refreshing salad.

That iceberg salad ($7) sounds like bored Mom, but is art. The chilled, fresh chunks of lettuce and thick slices of ruby beefsteak tomatoes are layered like a Big Mac, with chunks of roquefort speckled in and sliced sweet red onions on the plate. All is made homey with a delicious buttermilk/blue cheese dressing. The garnish? Pepperidge Farm goldfish.

Entree menu has all sorts of choices, including small plates, grilled meats and fish and foodie-designer fare. From the grill list we tried mahi-mahi ($19). It's Florida dolphin, simply grilled with olive oil, salt and pepper, served with a little beurre blanc, Parmesan tomatoes, lemon-scented saffron rice and grilled seasonal vegetables, asparagus on this night. Fish had a fresh feel but was grilled too long.

Among small plates, spiral seafood ravioli ($18) is stunning. This actually is rotini, pasta sheets rolled up with seafood stuffing, almost like a seafood sausage. In go lobster, shrimp, mahi, sea bass and snapper, unified by shrimp mousse, Reggiano cheese and fresh Italian herbs. The three three-inch tubes stand up in the bowl surrounded by a bisque-like lobster cream sauce, flavored with brandy and cayenne. One mussel, one clam and one shrimp act as garnish.

A highly popular entree is sesame tuna ($24). It starts with a chunk of sushi-grade tuna, dredged in white and black sesame seeds, just barely seared whole, then sliced and arranged atop a crispy risotto cake. It's risotto with ginger, Chinese chile, kaffir leaf and more, formed into a cake with panko bread crumbs and then pan-fried. Completing the picture is green asparagus and a roasted yellow bell-pepper sauce, the Asian flavors there again with sweet chile and ginger. This tuna is beautiful and plentiful, and the risotto adds heft. Excellent.

Double pork chop with applesauce ($22) is massive, 14 ounces, lightly cured a day with smoked chile and sugar. It gets a marinade in olive oil and herbs and is grilled simply (ordered medium, it arrived somewhat overdone). On the side is an appealing hash of pan-roasted brussels sprouts, diced sweet potatoes and applewood bacon. Homemade cinnamon applesauce goes on top of the chop.

Big entrees mean no seven-layer chocolate cake or Ultimate Barton G. Sundae. A variety of four homemade sorbets ($12; we had kiwi, passion fruit, strawberry and raspberry) hits the spot, served in a frozen bowl fashioned after a rose petal. Intense, tart flavors, with a bed of colored sugar for dipping.