Atmosphere: Chick's is neither self-consciously romantic nor shabby-chic in that contrived way that so many wine bars are. And in that sense, it accomplishes both with aplomb, insouciance, and other SAT-type words implying 'ease.' Rumor has it that the space used to be a preferred hang-out of a certain "family" organization that we're not supposed to talk about and that, if you ask certain people, doesn't actually exist anyway. Either way, the pressed-tin ceiling and wood-paneled walls contribute to an atmosphere that is both warm and inviting, no matter what its history is. Even the music is well-considered, and the Norah Jones CD (the new one, thankfully) worked just fine the evening I visited.

Crowd: Chick's is located a grape's throw from South Street, but it may as well be a world away. And while I had to do my best impression of an Olympic slalom skier as I threaded my way through high-school kids on the way from the Brianmobile to the bar, the crowd inside Chick's is decidedly more grown-up. It was mostly young professionals on a recent Thursday evening, but not the Dunder-Mifflin-esque, ill-fitting-khaki crowd that is the scourge of some other popular watering holes. Kind of like the kids from the cool table in the high-school cafeteria, but all grown up and devoid of the pretensions that likely carried them through late-adolescence.

Service: Enthusiastic, but thankfully low-key. My waiter, for example, was more than happy to make suggestions and offer his opinion of certain dishes, but only after I asked. And he seemed to know the wine list pretty well, which is a plus in, you know, a wine bar.

What to Get: One of the best things about all the wine bars that have popped up in the city over the past few years is that they offer guests the opportunity to taste things they'd probably never buy in the state store. (Or, let's be honest here, things they'd probably never even find in the state store.) A glass of Torres Viña Sol Parellada from Spain was crisp and minerally, perfect for the warm weather and as an accompaniment to the white bean and artichoke hummus. And a Tormaresca Negroamaro, rich with the flavor of smoky mushrooms, was a knockout with the Valdeon-stuffed, bacon-wrapped figs. And the broccoli rabe, while a bit soft and overdone, worked well with grilled polenta, tomatoes and garlic.

What Not to Get: Picky with vintages. I've noticed this a lot lately, but far too many restaurants don't list the vintages of the wines on their lists. And depending on what you order, there can be a ginormous difference in quality from one year to the next. So if you're any sort of wine geek, make sure you ask. Also, the calamari came up just short, a rather ho-hum preparation from a kitchen whose other dishes were generally spot-on. The fried zucchini sticks, though, retained a certain pleasant sweetness.

Verdict: Just what the neighborhood needed. South Philly has quietly become one of the hottest areas in town, and there are some truly remarkable restaurants there. But a wine bar this close to South Street is cause for celebration. Chick's probably won't change your culinary life, but that's often the last thing you want. And an un-kitschy wine bar with tasty nibbles, friendly, unobtrusive service and an interesting list is sometimes exactly what you need. Even if Norah Jones provides the soundtrack.

Chick's Wine Bar & Café, 614 S. 7th St., 215.625.3700