It would be too much of a cliché to say that in Bayport there is no there there. But seriously, folks, in Bayport there isn't even any the there. There are a heck of a lot of windows there (headquarters of Anderson Windows, you bet), a speed-trap in the road, and no doubt a lot of outraged people who will now commence to write in with outraged letters just as soon as we put this period down right here. Boing! As far as anyone else is concerned, we go to Bayport for one reason and one reason alone: to sit down at 7:00 p.m., Wednesday through Sunday, and feast on course after course of Bayport chef and owner Jim Kyndberg's marvelous meals. Oh, the May and June morel fest, which Kyndberg was recently invited to re-create in all its nutty, subtle glory at the James Beard house in New York. Oh, the Cheeses of the World dinner, and oh, the tapas of Spain, and oh, the Manchego cheese, and ugh, the drive home. What can be said that hasn't been already said? Point your browser immediately to the restaurant's Web site, and drool away at the photo of a terrine that looks like the Archangel Gabriel singing from on high, if the Archangel Gabriel was a terrine. Strained metaphor? Perhaps, but the mind plays strange tricks on the road back from Bayport, and sometime in there it just seemed really perfect.