A stone’s throw from the bustle of Mystic Seaport, tiny Stonington Village appears as a dot on the map and, on some maps and tourist brochures, does not appear at all-which suits the residents and even some of the merchants just fine. They treasure their quiet streets, beautiful old houses and seafaring history, and feel sure that these “attractions” are more than enough to delight people who love quiet, beauty and history.

So Stonington reflects quietly on a past of shipbuilding, whaling, sealing, repulsing British naval attacks and voyages of exploration (native son Nathaniel B. Palmer, at age 21 the captain of the 47-foot sloop Hero, discovered Antarctica), and shares its mementos with visitors to the Old Lighthouse Museum. There you can read Captain Nat’s logbook and climb the winding stone stairs for an exhilarating view.

And when you’ve worked up an appetite, you can repair to Noah’s, Stonington’s best kept secret, hidden in plain sight in the center of town. With a simple double storefront painted a handsome designer color somewhere between dark green and gray, Noah’s fits seamlessly into the lineup of picturesque buildings along Water Street.

Because this was our first time, we asked dozens of questions, and our waiter answered them all with patience and enthusiasm. Only when we asked about the chef did he mention that the chef-owner John Papp is his father.

For 20 years, it seems, Noah’s has been owned by John Papp and Stanley Schwartz, who man the kitchen on alternate days, their cooking styles reflecting Stonington’s dual ethnicity, Yankee and Portuguese-notwithstanding the fact that Papp and Schwartz both hail from Minnesota.

The menu is straightforward, not given to adjectives or superlatives. And when the food arrives, there are no squiggles on the plates, no pyrotechnic presentations. But we liked virtually everything we tasted.

The regular menu was short: three appetizers (pate’, chowder, and fettuccine) and five entrees (flounder, sea scallops, filet mignon, pork chop, and chicken breast), but then a printed list of the day’s specials arrived, opening up a world of choice. We opted for oyster stew, clam chowder, salads with imported feta, and a slice of Quiche of the day, which happen to be spinach-parmesan. All were fresh and good in a lovely homey way.

There were two kinds of bread in the basket-flax-seed and cranberry-nut. Both were irresistible. So was the oyster stew made with plump little oysters and real cream. The clam chowder was thinner, to thin perhaps, but traditionally New England clam chowder is made with milk, not cream, with diced potato augmenting the chopped clams. Noah’s does it that way.

The Spinach-Parmesan quich was tender and custard in a flaky crust.

Entrees were predominantly from the sea-lobster, shrimp, grouper, halibut and flounder, alone or in various combinations, and when our choices arrived, we understood Noah’s popularity. I have never had fresher fish, nor fish more carefully prepared. In fact, we need a new word for fresh when it comes to fish, because what passes for fresh in many restaurants would’nt hold a candle to the fish and shellfish we got at Noah’s.

By texture and taste alone we could distinguish between grouper, halibut and flounder. Spices, herbs, garnishes and accompaniments weren’t needed, but they added a dash of delight-a slather of basil mustard butter for our char-grilled grouper, garlic and sautéed leeks for our halibut. True, the artichoke hearts accompanying the char-grilled salmon were straight from the can, but the fish was so moist and crispy-crusted, we were happy as clams.

So we don’t regret skipping the filet mignon, that comes in two sizes, the pork chop which looked wonderful, the beef Bourguignon or the intriguingly titled Turkish lamb stew. Maybe next time, but with fish this fresh, it’s going to be hard to resist.

And we’re certainly going to have dessert, every one of which is made from scratch in the restaurant kitchen. We had forgotten (or did we ever know?) that a brown derby is a brownie topped with vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce. This one was cake like, and a little dry around the edges the way brownies get when you bake them in the oven of an old-fashioned kitchen stove. White-chocolate bread pudding was to rich for its britches, heavy and dense and rather tasteless, with an uncomplimentary sour-cherry sauce. But rhubarb pie was summer in the mouth, and an individually baked apple spice cake was fragrant with spices, glistening with caramel sauce and served warn.

Call it precious or designedly unpretentious, Noah’s couldn’t care less. It is what it is and cares about what it does and takes pride in giving good value.