Forget the prissy wine flights most restaurants serve with the names and wine base silhouettes etched on cheesy copies. Trevi's three-unit wine flights are served in a metal "flight" rack that looks something like a candelabra and elevates your wines near eye-level so you can squint and pretend to notice the hue variations. This rack may seem a pointless gimmick to the seasoned wine aficionado, but it can be a big help to the casual diner because it helps keep the wines straight, which gets awful hard after a few swirls, sniffs and sips not followed by spits. Plus, you can share each flight with your dining companions as a whole unit rather than as a series of back-and-forth shuffles, which can lead to spillage and the premature purpling of cuticles. Yet this isn't the only piece of dining-enjoyment hardware offered at Trevi's. The lamb kabob is served on an appliance that looks like a gallows, or perhaps a gaff kit to eradicate the pesky door-to-door Jehovah's Witness menace. A metal base holds a post rising 12 inches, which branches off into a notched arm extending horizontally over the base. One notch holds a thick skewer of meat while the other is draped with shriveled scallions scorched into limpidity. The lamb is not delivered as a crowd of carved stew chunks tightly squeezed onto a skewer, as you might expect of a kabob. Instead, a trio of lamb chops dangles from this imposing ramrod; the kind that could scare you out of your chain-mail boxers if the meat didn't look so inviting.