Poof! Two new spots appeared and suddenly Pittsburgh's most fashionable destination is the corner of South Highland and Centre avenues. For many years, until early June, soaped-up windows and an air of desolation marked this quiet intersection in the shadow of East Liberty Presbyterian Church.

		Red Room Cafe and Lounge (412-362-5800, www.redroomcafe.com) is at 134 S. Highland Ave. and Abay (412-661-9736, www.abayrestaurant.com) is at 130 S. Highland Ave. in East Liberty.

Now, at dusk, mule-shod blondes on the arms of breezy-shirted men linger on the sidewalk. Gracile performance road bikes are chained to the parking meters; their owners rest, vigilant, at short tables in Abay's wide front window, refueling on Ethiopian stews. Three femmes in Paris Hiltonesque skinny minis approach the Red Room Cafe and Lounge from the direction of Shadyside with martinis on their minds.

Munch was attracted like a summer bug to the light, action and smells. So it was arranged that Munch and LLFOM (Long Lost Friend of Munch) would suck up a bit of the throbbing crimson boite vibe at the Red Room.

True to the name, the walls are painted a deep, moody Matisse red. The music pulses, a lounge-y chill background beat. The floors are tiled like a French bistro and the bar is high and wooden; the back bar is all wine racks, rising toward the ceiling, a stocked lattice.

The front of the restaurant is given over to tables, which can be sectioned off with velvety drapes. The rear of the room, stretching back into bloody dimness, contains clusters of masculine brown leather club chairs and couches. LLFOM and Munch sank in.

Because it was a hot evening and Munch's wallet was too thin to support two $20-$30 entrees, LLFOM agreed to share a few appetizers. A fondue of port and blue cheese ($13), served with tender, medium-rare bits of beef and crisp bread cubes, was sharp, warm and luxurious. Piquillo peppers ($10) tempered by roasting and stuffed with creamy cheese are ideally suited to an astringent gin martini.

Red Room's house martini is vodka, specifically Level, Absolut's high-end premium vodka ($7). It's very soft, almost tidal, especially in Munch's drink, where a skewer of green olive, garlic clove, green olive gave it a pale perfume of garlic and brine.

The next night, less starry eyed and certainly less tipsy, Munch returned to the intersection.

Abay is the earthier eatery, from its terra-cotta walls to the simple, vibrant fare served on woven platters lined with spongy bread. Peering through the window, it seems deceptively small; once inside, the room stretches back, packed with tables.

At the front of the restaurant are several mesobs, low, woven, fluted tables. Munch and two adventurous FOMs were led to a mesob near the wall and seated on backless stools that cup the bottom. A tiny rectangular table, to the side, held our drinks.

Abay has no liquor license, and corkage is $2.50 per bottle. You may find that an ale or amber beer is the perfect accompaniment to spicy Ethiopian, though a table red from the Douro region of Portugal held up decently.

Munch's evening of slow sipping at Red Room translated into a terrible hunger at Abay, so two orders of sambussa, meat and vegetarian, were ordered immediately ($3.25). The veg version, lentil wrapped in a phyllo-like dough, was dull; the filling of spicy beef was more savory.

A combination platter of vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes ($27.50) was brought for the three friends on a platter lined with injera -- a wonderful bread made of fermented grain. It's very thin, pliant and nutritious, a beautiful invention that is plate, fork, carb and napkin in one.

With it, the mellifluously named zilzil tibs -- strips of sauteed beef flavored with onions, herbs and chili paste -- was sopped up. It was used to pinch up every scrap of the doro tibs -- fragrantly moist minced chicken. Rounding out the meal were ye'abesha gome, a mild kale dish, and shiro wat, a cinnamon-y simmer of pulses, creamier than Indian dal. A dollop of chili paste left a crimson swath in every stew.

Finally, the people in the stately but removed houses of Highland Park have someplace close to go to dinner. Finally, Munch knows the perfect date spots for the remainder of the summer.