Sept.14 marked the beginning of a new regime under proprietor Max Burke-Phillips and chef Seth Groseclose. Burke-Phillips formerly managed Derek’s Culinary Casual, and Groseclose came up under the tutelage of Sean Murphy at Beach Bistro. Not bad pedigrees.

The big banyan tree still shades the patio at 5-One-6 Burns, and the building confers its old relaxed charm. But the colors on the walls inside and out have been reinvigorated, the tables sport white linens and the wait staff is natty in black. The wine list has been thoroughly reworked by consultant Michael Green. Reception at the door is warm, and service is timely and informed. All of this adds up to a more sophisticated but still eminently comfortable setting in which to savor the magic worked in chef Groseclose’s Southern-grounded kitchen.

And make no mistake: The food is the star.

For starters, I’d like to ask you to forget everything you know about fried chicken sold in buckets, boxes and foil-lined bags. That is not fried chicken. That is chicken-flavored deep-fried breading. It bears the same relationship to real Southern pan-fried chicken as plastic spangles bear to diamonds.

I was blissfully reminded of this basic truth when we dined one recent evening under that iconic banyan tree. The setting and the cooking combined to transport us to a time before speed-eating ruled the day. Which is not to say that you can’t get a quick bite here if you find yourself running late for the last show at Burns Court Cinema next door. On Thursday through Saturday evenings, for instance, a tasty little pizza from a wood-fired oven and a glass of wine may be had in a hurry at the bar, and an uptown burger with fries is always an option. If you have the time, though, take it. The fare here feeds the soul as well as the belly and deserves to be consumed as it was cooked, slowly and with the senses wide open.

My wife, Colette, formerly a restaurant critic herself, is passionate about authentic Southern cooking, traditional or nouvelle. When she spotted that latter-day classic shrimp and grits ($11) on the appetizer list and Southern pan-fried chicken ($19) among the main events at 5-One-6 Burns, she was as happy as a little girl. That both a neo-traditional brioche bread pudding and chef Groseclose’s grandma’s pecan pie highlighted the dessert menu sealed the deal. It didn’t hurt a thing that we sipped a fabulously creamy yet dry La Marca Prosecco ($8 a glass) as we pondered our choices. I ordered well, too, but we’ll get to that in a minute.

First, Colette’s pink crustaceans arrived, fresh, plump and sweet, grilled to perfection and placed just so atop toothsome grits jazzed up with a liberal dose of fresh orange. (We couldn’t help but overhear a full-voiced out-of-towner at another table declare to titters from his tablemates, “Grits! Does anybody really eat that stuff?” Ah, well. His loss. I wonder if he’s ever heard of polenta.)

Feeling expansive, we ordered a bottle of Julia’s Pinot Noir 2005 from Cambria ($42) to accompany the main course. Anticipation hung in the air like the scent of night-blooming jasmine.

The free-range chicken—a generous thigh, a breast and a leg—arrived in a light flour coating coaxed to a golden crust in a slow pan. Not a corn flake or a panko crumb in sight. Inside this elegant skin the meat was as tender and succulent as its aroma promised.

And here’s the kicker. Sharing the plate were a soupçon of white gravy, black-eyed peas cooked al dente to preserve their full, earthy savor, and collard greens coated in a slightly sweet, slightly vinegary glaze that brought their natural tartness flawlessly to the fore. A tour de force.

I, meanwhile, had the good fortune to start my dinner with a world-beating preparation of fried softshell crab ($13). The nearly shell-free shellfish was so delicious it could have been served naked on a paper plate with a plastic fork and I still would have swooned. Instead, it came layered with not-too-thin slices of unbreaded, grilled green tomato and topped with peppery watercress, all on a shallow pool of citrusy dill sauce. It was the best of its kind I’ve ever tasted.

Next for me was an old favorite, a pan-roasted duck breast ($21) sliced and fanned over a sumptuous apple and root vegetable hash and sauced in an aromatic thyme-scented cider broth. The skin of the duck was just crisp enough to set off the modest layer of fat that gives this bird its juicy richness, and the hash was a heavenly version of a homely staple.