It's 7 on a weekday morning, and David Paul Johnson has already walked to Front Street from his rental apartment up the street, taken umpteen cell phone calls, admitted a bunch of workmen to his new restaurant space and is being interviewed by a reporter while periodically breaking off to answer a question or call out a direction.

"Creating a restaurant is never an easy thing to do," he says. And the food is almost the least of it.

The man whose two previous restaurants were critically acclaimed, who has been a sought-after private chef and won coveted culinary awards is, today, anything but a chef.

He's a contractor, an inspector, a designer, a carpenter, a mover, a human resources director, a menu planner, a wine buyer, an advocate for organic agriculture, a food and wine director, a spokesman and photo model and, as always, a risk taker.

The man who famously lost the right to use his own name on a business after he broke with his partners at his signature restaurant in Lahaina, then failed to succeed with an idealistic but ambitious fine-dining spot at the then W hotel near Diamond Head on O'ahu, is preparing to open a third venture.

It's David Paul's Island Grill, at Lahaina Center on Front Street, opening in early May (though now, it still looks like a construction site). And he's doing it at a time when many restaurants are folding, trimming costly menu items, offering two-for-one deals, cutting back workers' shifts or laying them off.

"This is not a good time to open a restaurant," he says without irony. But his enthusiasm and belief that he can beat the odds suffuses the conversation. "The timing is perfect for a place like this. People are still coming to Maui. They are still spending money. They still want that Hawai'i experience."

SOMETHING DIFFERENT

Walking down Front Street one cloudy, overcast day, past the tacky T-shirt shops, art galleries and jewelry stores, the aging restaurants and ho-hum franchises, he spotted the empty retail space. Suddenly, all the thinking he'd been doing gelled. "I knew it was right. I knew I could do something different."

Johnson patiently endures questions about his past misfortunes — fallings out with partners, overextending himself with an immense restaurant space at Diamond Head and the dream of a cooking school for disadvantaged youths.

It was a blessing in a very painful disguise, he says. "My departure from the restaurant scene was the best thing that could have happened to me," he said. "I took the 10 years to learn about me."

He's been on the Big Island for the last seven years "with more time for my family, enjoying personal time." For five of those years, he was executive chef and culinary director of an exclusive private community, Kuki'o. "I actually got to cook," he said. "I was able to refocus my thoughts and my energy. I ... found new ways to make food that I love to eat and love to cook. Call it 'high-end comfort food,' if you will."

The idea came in part from some of the big-name tycoons he served at the resort who, tired of the caviar life, craved hamburgers (but he made them with Kobe beef) or macaroni and cheese (but he added shaved truffles).

Meanwhile, he thought about why things hadn't worked out, and how they might be made to work out. He pondered writing a book, still an idea he'd like to pursue.

And he designed a restaurant in his head.

JUST LIKE HOME

"People want Hawai'i style when they come here, and Hawai'i is many places, many styles. I want this restaurant to feel like you're in someone's home, a real comfortable place."

It will be a home with many rooms, representative of everything from the lanai of an old kama'aina beach house to the private wine cellar of a Upcountry connoisseur's mansion.

The experience Johnson hopes to give guests will be a bit different from that they'll find elsewhere because he's designing a restaurant for a range of tastes. Most restaurants have a single character: They're high-end with white tablecloths and stiff waiters. They're casual, inexpensive, noisy and family-friendly. They specialize in one ethnic cuisine or healthful food or some other niche. They're bars that serve food or enotecas that specialize in wine. They're stages where celebrity chefs do a culinary dance behind an open kitchen window.

David Paul's Island Grill, which has an unobscured view of the ocean over the Front Street sea wall, will be much, if not all, of the above.

There will be a market-based menu that changes daily based on what's freshest.

He'll buy from farmers who employ sustainable methods. "They don't have to be certified organic. They just have to be practicing organic-style farming," he said.

He'll offer family-style platters — a large bowl of salad for the table to share, for example — but also the ubiquitous small plates.

The price range will run from $18 to $35, with most entrees under $30.

The wine program is unusual, too: 50 to 60 wines by the glass, most at $10 or less; wines by the bottle, of course, and — here's the interesting part — a walk-in wine storage area where guests can choose from the restaurant's most expensive offerings.

In a nod to the past, there'll be a dessert cart.

There will be multiple dining spaces: the Sunset Terrace from which you can view the sea, a back patio called the Lanai Lounge with movable modular furniture and even a fireplace, where you can have cocktails and a tasting menu; a private dining room; a bar with seating for 20; a lounge with a "living room" feel, and a main dining area just off the front door.

The decor, by Victoria Van Aller of First Impressions, runs to cream, copper, sea green.

Oh, and the food. "Slow food, comfort food," he says. Homey. As if your mom went to Cordon Bleu. He plans to buy large meat cuts and use all the parts, grilling the tender cuts, infusing the others with flavor in long, slow braises. He'll do an Italian-style brick-pressed chicken. A pot roast scented with Chinese five-spice. Keahole lobster poached in olive oil. He'll smoke meats with macadamia nuts and cure his own meats, too. Fresh fish will be seared or roasted and served in a Parmesan broth.

Johnson calls it "Tropical Chic, Island Cool."

He's building it. Will they come?

Johnson seems confident, and in his element, poring over blueprints, micromanaging every detail from the wall colors to the shapes of the plates.

"I have to reinvent myself," he says. "I bound back."

And he's going back to the place he loves, not behind a desk but behind a stove. "The joy of running a restaurant for me is having one thing to focus on and do what I love. I'll be in the kitchen cooking every night. It's what I do best."