My next impulse, after a first visit, was to feel a twinge of pity for the guys behind the grill. Afteĺr all, they had just turned out a great steak: lightly dusted with pepper, finished with a pinch of kosher salt, an almost sweet caramelized crust and, best of all, not burnt beyond recognition but heated to a point between medium-rare and medium. It was near perfect, except for the fact that they used a grade of beef ill-suited for grilling. Despite its pink interior, the bulky meat proved nearly impenetrable.

The final visit, however, left me with another opinion entirely. I reserved that night for paella, the traditional Spanish rice dish, and dragged a colleague along, as La Bodega prepares the dish only for two or more guests. Really good paella is a torrent of flavors that should swirl past your taste buds in a confusing, roiling flood: whole chicken drumsticks, chunks of chorizo, shellfish, vegetables and whatever else ends up in the skillet. The only consistency among hundreds of recipes tends to be rice, olive oil and saffron. Somehow or other, though, really good paella (and jambalaya, the Cajun variant) is a tantalizing and unforgettable medley.

Ah, but then that old bugaboo of Prague cooking, salt, begins to erode whatever complexity existed in the dish. It washes through your palate like a gentle tide at first. Soon, however, the piercing blast of sodium is all you can discern. The mussels taste like salt, the shrimp tastes like salt, the embarrassingly small shreds of meat clinging to chicken bones taste like salt. It becomes fork after fork of Morton's.

So the lasting impression was of a kitchen still in the throes of learning the methods of consulting chef Roman Mičan, who was wandering the dining room looking dutifully Spanish during my visits, rather than berating, cajoling or whatever else is necessary to motivate line cooks. He'll depart within a few months, so this is the time for intense training.

But all this confusion may eventually smooth out. Already there are some positive signs, such as a few of the items from the tapas bar. Serrano ham is silky, melting on the tongue and leaving a meaty, briny flavor. Empanadillos work well with pivo and good company. Some good spiced olives accompany the small plates. Even the paella, for all its faults, hit the right texture: perfect rice, with calamari brought to a nice firmness.

The room itself is inviting, too. It's airy and open, with a converted-warehouse feel. The interior has been divided into several distinct spaces downstairs and a more space above. The effect is like a yuppie enclave on an otherwise dreary stretch of Hybernská.

For now, stick with the tapas menu and enjoy the ambience at La Bodega, while the kitchen takes a few months to work out the kinks. If the steak remains tough and the paella salty, drop it from your list.