An example: the duck spring rolls with mandarin relish ($11), which consisted of delicate, cilantro-infused crepes wrapped around a mixture of duck confit and vegetables. The mandarin "relish" wasn't, at least by definition, but the little heaps of mandarin orange sections and separate piles of microgreens provided further visual, textural and flavor interest, and the streaks of Asian pear and hoisin sauces made this one very successful dish.

Ditto for an entree of white-miso-lacquered sea bass ($32). "Sea bass" can, these days, be pretty much anything, but this likely was the real thing (more precisely, Patagonian toothfish) because it had all the right chops of firmness, sweetness and that tendency to flake so nicely. The sambal aioli drizzled around the plate was fusion at its finest -- aioli being a French garlic mayonnaise, sambal being an Indonesian-Malaysian condiment of generally pretty kicky peppers -- but it was far more mild than I expected. That didn't much matter because the flavor of the fish, mellowed by the smoky tinge of miso, was perfect on its own. And the talent for spring rolls so obvious in the duck starter continued here with crispy-crusted rolls bursting with vegetables and the nutty density of soba noodles.

Spring field greens ($12) were a garden-variety mix plus some artichoke hearts, but thanks to a sprightly vinaigrette, they transcended their workaday origins; this salad really did invoke the flavors of spring, with all of the grassiness that implies.

The only dish I'd consider just OK was the macadamia-nut-glazed chicken ($25), which could've been just as accurately labeled brown-sauce-glazed chicken. There were lots of big chunks of chicken breast, but the sauce didn't bring anything to the table, and the presence of flat, chow-fun-style rice noodles in addition to a side of rice was just sort of odd.

We did, however, end on a very sweet note in every sense of the word. Cinnamon Monkey Bread ($10) was chunks of brioche mixed with bits of dried fruit and served with little dishes of caramel and chocolate sauces. When we said we'd like to split one, our waitress assured us that, yes, that would be a good idea, and indeed, this was a large dessert.

Although it came as no surprise that she was right, because she had been exceptionally capable and effective. In fact, we noticed that the party at a nearby table greeted her as an old friend, though they were clearly visitors, not locals or family.

That level of friendly service? Not something you find much anymore, and rarely on the Strip. Fusia may not have the big names, but it has the right ideas about how to do things.

Las Vegas Review-Journal reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact reporter Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@reviewjournal.com.