He doesn't hide his predilections, no, sir. His show is a triumphant coming out - no, a celebration, really. He stands tall and proud, unblinking in the harsh light of public scrutiny, to announce to the world what he was, is and always will be.

Stroili is a Renaissance Geek.

That's right. He's a heterosexual man who knows the difference between flan and crème brulee. A guy who can distinguish beige from ecru. Who gives his girlfriend fashion advice. Who owns, indeed actually uses, a melon baller.

If this brief description stirs something within you - a strange feeling of kinship, say, or even a desire to know more about picayune wine tips and French cuisine - then you owe it to yourself and your loved ones to see Stroili's one-man show, "Straight Up with a Twist," at the Grove Theater Center's Gem Theater.

Stroili, a Connecticut native, came up with the idea for "Straight Up" a few years back. It was his longtime girlfriend's suggestion, actually. After years of receiving helpful tips about fashion, food and home design from Stroili, she thought a show could be mined from his offbeat talents.

Her instincts proved correct. Stroili debuted "Straight Up" a couple of seasons back in Los Angeles, and it turned into a cult hit of sorts, playing three venues and garnering good reviews. In its fine-tuned, Mark IV version at the Gem, Stroili's creation is remarkably poised, well-oiled and balanced.

"Straight Up" is conventional in genre. It's a confessional monologue, a form that has been tried (some might say perfected) by performers such as Spaulding Gray and Julia Sweeney. But Stroili's subject and approach are unique.

Stroili starts by defining Renaissance geekdom. Basically, it's any affinity for subjects that lay beyond the realm of traditional American maleness: continental cuisine, say, or women's fashion. The comedian first leads us through his early years of self-discovery, and we're introduced to family members along the way: His chain- smoking, acid-tongued mother (probably the show's most consistently brilliant character); his blue-collar brother (whose unconscious habit of thrusting his crotch be comes a comic exclamation point); his tradition-minded Italian dad.

Then Stroili takes on the role of cultural anthropologist, combing the American entertainment world for Renaissance Geek figures in television ("basically anything with Tony Randall in it") and the higher arts (Arthur Miller, whose triumph over Joe DiMaggio for Marilyn Monroe's affections "kept the dream alive" for Renaissance Geeks, Stroili explains).

Stroili's years as a warm-up comedian for the Jenny Jones show serve him well. He plays his audience with an expert's ease in a hilarious game-show segment called "It's All Geek to Me." When one of the contestants picked from Saturday's almost-full house told Stroili his name was Lauren, the performer smirked.

"You're halfway to Renaissance geekdom with a name like that," he said. "It's All Geek to Me" follows a Q-and-A format in which the answers are ridiculous and difficult. (What should the Renaissance Geek use in his hair before riding in a convertible - mousse or gel? "Both - there's never a time not to use both!") The contestants, of course, never stand a chance.

"Straight Up" works for all the right reasons. It's not the most original material in the world - a lot of the writing, though admittedly sharp and literate, hails from the glib Leno-Letterman school of humor.

But Stroili knows how to deliver his goods. He owns comic gifts similar to those of Steve Martin, relying on his half-handsome, half-goofy looks to create moments of mock seriousness or impressively detailed comic characterizations. Stroili also has a bent for sly physical comedy, using his thin physique, big, expressive hands and saucer-eyed face to wordlessly punctuate a comic high point.

GTC artistic director Kevin Cochran is credited with directing "Straight Up," but I suspect Stroili needs little help with this material. He's been a Renaissance Geek all his life, and if he's true to the stereotype, nobody in the world would be able to tell him how to stage the show. David George's set is perfect - imagine a game-show stage designed by Isamu Noguchi. It's so beautiful and tasteful that it, too, arouses suspicions about its true creator.

Would anyone but a Renaissance Geek, for example, have chosen its prevailing color? It's kind of beige, but not quite, one of those hues that only people like Stroili could possibly identify - or want to use.