As the tasting progressed into meatier flavors, Sikora somehow managed to keep the balance light. A luxuriously thick fillet of wild striped bass came over a Mediterranean swirl - orange-tinted fennel stew and milky green whipped olive oil - that undulated across the plate like moving marble.

Unbelievably moist loin of poached rabbit paired with thyme-scented links of homemade rabbit sausage, morsels of confit-stewed leg, piquant green olives and creamy white tarbais beans that exuded the intoxicating perfume of truffle.

Sikora evoked a solidly American spirit, though, with his savory finale, a ruby-rare strip loin of Pennsylvania bison smoked over hickory and served with a creamy chip of tangy Vermont blue cheese and the sweet reply of caramelized onions with fig compote.

A flight of different breads was served with every course, from baskets of mini-brioche to warm gougere puffs filled with Gruyere steam and chewy twists of Bavarian pretzels studded with fragrant seeds.

Olexy and her servers, meanwhile, kept our tall-stemmed glasses replenished with judicious pours of the guest-brought wines, many of which were matched to Olexy's pre-suggested pairings.

The couple built Django, and inspired a movement of independent young restaurateurs along the way, with a government loan of $45,000 and nothing but mountain bikes for collateral.

Their success and sale of that bistro would help pay the $250,000 it took to gut a vacant shoe store and transform it into the food lover's oasis of Talula's Table. But it wouldn't be easy.

The inevitable construction delays had dragged on and on. Sikora got permission from Django's current owners simply to work in someone else's kitchen 38 miles from Center City while the grocery was being built. But then Sikora lost that line-cook job.

The Django nest egg began to drain. Olexy and Sikora maxed out credit cards. And Olexy, one of the region's most passionate and knowledgeable cheese people, began to look for work at local supermarkets. To her chagrin, she couldn't land an assistant's job behind the cheese counter at the Whole Foods in Devon.

"The girl who interviewed me had never even worked in cheese," Olexy says. "She'd just moved over from fish."

Olexy elevated the cheese course to performance art during her days at Django, and she has collected well over 120 artisan cheeses for sale at Talula's. Our plates this night brimmed with little tastes of 10 champions from a recent American competition. From Capriole's mushroomy Old Kentucky Tomme to the creamy Green Hill from Georgia's Sweet Grass Dairy, the fenugreek-scented Fenacho from Tumalo Farms in Oregon, and a cave-aged Marisa from Carr Valley Wisconsin, Olexy narrated the details of each with breathless enthusiasm.

By the time I polished off dessert, a striped frozen terrine of concord grape sorbet and goat's milk gelato, it was hard to believe we'd spent nearly four hours at Talula's Table.

It was 11 p.m. and I could have kept eating.

As if they'd read my mind, the servers handed each guest bags of leftover brioche and a tiny gift-wrapped box as they guided us toward the door. I peeked inside to find a fresh green fig, plucked from just behind Olexy and Sikora's Chester County home. It was a sweet memento of their pastoral new life. A home-grown gesture of "good-bye."

Talula's Table was ready, at last, to close for the night.

Talula's Table

102 W. State St., Kennett Square, 610-444-8255; www.talulastable.com