Some restaurants take up residence in my head. Auden, the stylish, vegetable-forward spot in the hopping Autry Park mixed-use development, is one of those establishments I can’t stop thinking about.

The details of a riveting Chicken 65 variant keep replaying: the evanescent rice-flour crust of the fried morsels; the bright, controlled red-peppery punch of the sambal marinade; the crunch of sesame seeds; the sharp mustard-seed pop; the herbal twang of flash-fried curry leaf snaking through. High-level snack food, made even better with a side of glossy Hokkaido milk buns, herbed with dill and sided by super-low-key honey butter. 

The combo showcases the savory skills of chef Kirthan Shenoy and the baking finesse of pastry-chef Kripa Shenoy, a one-two punch that shows Auden at its best.

Then I return to obsessing about what would make the pan-fried potato-dumpling, not-quite-gnocchi dish work for me. The mochi-like sumptuousity of the dumplings seems overmatched in its context of rosemary bechamel, everything too sticky and rich. A little acid hit? A vinaigrette instead of a bechamel? It’s a tantalizing question.

Mostly I wonder what the determinedly eclectic Auden will be when it grows up. My first visit in December, when the restaurant was just six weeks old, left me puzzled and disappointed. But three recent visits and a retooled menu have kept me engaged even when a dish fizzled or slid slightly south.  

I took to the young, smart staff; enjoyed the sleek dining room’s sundown light and relative calm before the prime-time dinner rush; laughed at how ancient I felt on a packed Friday night amid the clamor of young professionals celebrating the start of their weekends, their collective decibels in the ear-splitting 80s. 

I admired the intelligent wine list, with numerous interesting choices by the glass. (A brisk Greek sparkling white, made from Debina grapes, that outshines many a mediocre Prosecco? What a find.) The specialty cocktail list administered from the handsome, welcoming bar may have an unnerving twist or two (yikes to a Parmesan-infused gin martini), but I bow down to ideas like the well-balanced Lady in Red, a reposado tequila-based variant on the Negroni, using Select Aperitivo and a house-infused strawberry vermouth. It’s sophisticated fun.

Married chefs Kirthan and Kripa earned their spurs in New York City before opening their walk-up EaDough coffee and baked goods window during the pandemic. They had their first baby just weeks ago, so Auden’s kitchen rhythms are adjusting.Their super-eclectic cooking style still seems to be evolving, casting about for what works, and their focus on seasonality guarantees a degree of change. The throughlines are the Indian flavors of their family roots, which serve as a jumping-off place for their creativity; and their admirable attention to fresh produce — still a novelty in a city devoted to meat.

Will the Shenoys maintain the shareable menu style that makes the place difficult for a solo diner and confusing, at least at first, for everybody else? Auden’s so-called “small plates,” priced between $12 and $36, will usually feed three or even four diners. That $22 bowlful of Chicken 65 is dauntingly vast for two diners, and you don’t want leftovers, as the magic vanishes as the dish cools.

The so-called “large plates” aren’t much bigger than the small plates, either.

My favorite of the six was a roasted cauliflower cut crosswise into steaklike slabs, then piled up with florets into a vivid mountain that resembled some fantastical botanical arrangement. Sultry sweet-red-pepper puree on the bottom; crevices hiding an agro-dolce relish of golden raisins, peppers and pepitas; mini-florets of tartly marinated raw cauliflower tumbling about. It’s among the best vegetarian entrees in the city. It’s even great cold, the next day.

Nicely grilled whole branzino rubbed with tandoori spices, so that its crisped skin leapt, arrived with the equipment to make an Indian version of fish tacos. Tuck the fish into layery, study parathas (the flour-based Indian flatbreads), add some zingy mint chutney, and you’ve got fun for three — or even four, if you ask for an extra paratha.

There’s a burger, and with a simple tweak it could be among my favorites for a solo supper at the bar. So much salt went onto the high-quality beef patty’s exterior seasoning that it fought with the interesting condiments: spicy tomato jam; piercing Dijonnaise; and a heap of crispy shallots, like some exalted version of the canned fried onions everybody buys at Thanksgiving. 

Among the hits here are meaty grilled maitake mushrooms, their frills satisfyingly singed, set off by a verdant green spring onion sauce and punctuation marks of chili crisp, sesame and those ubiquitous pepitas. Green is something of a theme here. I would have loved the Greenhouse Salad with its tumble of fresh parsley and fennel fronds if only the nutty-tasting green tahini dressing had been more sparingly applied. Bonus points, though, for the “jammy” boiled egg halves and tiny tomatoes bursting with flavor.

Scallion hotcakes turned out to be tall mini-pancakes with chopped scallions on top, and too much sweet syrup flavored with bits of red chile. They tasted like dessert. Not so the bowlful of stracciatella to dig into with slabs of grilled house sourdough, the creamy, burrata-like cheese bloblets contrasted with sesame brittle and the dark, unexpected tones of super-caramelized black onion marmalade.

I still don’t know what to think about a plateful of agnolotti, the pasta envelopes filled with cream cheese, beefed up with maitake and charred red onion, and smothered in a tikka masala sauce so rich and sticky-satin textured it overwhelmed everything in its path. It reminded me of my similar problem with the potato dumplings. Back to the drawing board?

Rethinking seems part of the DNA here, which makes me hopeful for good things to come. They’re adding brunch starting this Sunday (Chicken 65 and waffles, anyone?), and they’re toying with Tuesday items like new martini variations and specially priced Murder Point oysters. 

Even Kripa Shenoy’s beautiful, subtle desserts are subject to revision. A smooth finger of chai-spiced cheesecake, studded with piped florets of mascarpone and strewn with praline crunch, is about to be reimagined, I learned. 

There’s one thing I hope the Shenoys won’t change, ever. The soft-centered little Italian doughnut orbs, bomboloni, come dusted with blackberry-imbued sugar that’s a nuanced marvel. Tear one open, apply a spoonful of the cereal-milk ice cream alongside, and prepare to reel with happiness.