One for the neighborhood

Simple comfort in the South End

Above: Grilled hanger steak comes with herb butter, fried potatoes, and watercress. (photos by Wiqan Ang for the Boston Globe)

Thursday evening, the South End. Girls in straight bangs and slouchy boots, boys with bed head and vintage blazers over rocker T's. They stand outside a crowded nightspot smoking. Approaching: one tired-looking woman carrying laptop, gym bag, and groceries. "Excuse me," she says, squeezing past them to get to her front door, which they are blocking.

You may see her later through the windows of the Buttery Bar + Bistro, looking much restored.

Still a cafe during the day, the South End Buttery expanded its mission in August, adding space and nighttime hours. Its neighborhood is a destination for people looking to Go Out, full of trendy bars and restaurants. But it's also very much a neighborhood, and a tier of restaurants exists primarily to serve those who live here. They're not necessarily the kind of place you head across town for in a stylish outfit. They're the kind of place you go when you live nearby, you've had a day, and you'd rather unwind with friends than make a halfhearted stir-fry.

The Buttery's new bistro falls consciously into that camp. It wants to be a neighborhood restaurant, and it succeeds. That's not surprising when you consider the cafe's popularity as a neighborhood hangout. It's cute, it's convenient, everyone is here, and so are their dogs. In the morning the crowds can lead to jostling and snappishness, but for some reason at night things feel warm and fuzzy instead. Cheek by jowl with the guy you glared at pre-coffee earlier in the day (he did run your foot over with a stroller), now that the sun's down he's suddenly your new best friend. Which is good, as he's practically perched in your lap - a downstairs dining room has yet to open, and seating is snug.

The food encourages regular attendance. Reasonably priced for the neighborhood, it's more about daily sustenance than occasion dining - it verges on homey, presuming you share your home with a really good cook. You can tell where chef Michael Navarrete is coming from with the first bite of salad. So often restaurant salads feel obligatory, a bored nod before the menu gets off to the races with foie gras, beef cheeks, and other heavy lifting. But you can only eat so much foie gras; you can have a salad every night. The Buttery Bar's menu acknowledges that - salads recently made up three out of six appetizers - and realizes a well-made one can be a thing of beauty.

Take a recent mix of greens, toasted pumpkin seeds, Vermont chevre, and cranberry dressing. It's simple, pretty, and delicious. The presence of whole, tart cranberries is surprising; it seems the berries would be too tart, but they are just right. Another salad of mixed lettuces with pears, blue cheese, and pecans fills a similar niche; these aren't anything you couldn't make at home, but if you head to the Buttery Bar, you don't have to.

You could probably do better with butternut squash soup yourself, however. It lacks flavor and depth and has an oddly fluffy texture. But at home you might not whip up pork rillettes, a rustic, garlicky, and delicious spread served with toast points and chutney-like mostarda. The pork is satisfying, even if one night the accompanying greens taste a bit mildewed. The table behind us complains about this good-naturedly; the waitress removes their salad good-naturedly. It's a friendly place. The servers are helpful and attentive, not always the case with the staff during the day.

An appetizer of moules frites could serve as supper. The mussels are small and not particularly plump, but the saffron broth is spicy and begs to be sopped up with accompanying toasts. The fries have a thick, crunchy coating and are served in a cone; they're available as a side, too, in plain or parmesan-garlic with a choice of chipotle aioli, truffle aioli, or spicy ketchup. There are several other interesting sides; an earthy polenta made with buckwheat, cornmeal, and dried figs would be an intriguing addition to the cafe's breakfast menu - it could work as a fancy hot cereal.

Main dishes continue with simple, seasonal ingredients. In the fall you'll find a lot of kale, apples, and squash, replacing summer's tomatoes, corn, and radishes. Grilled duck breast is expertly cooked, rare and tender, accompanied by potatoes, apples, and kale. Roasted monkfish is firm and juicy, in an unusually hearty presentation for fish: with Swiss chard, roasted carrots and parsnips, and a bang-up red wine sauce that would be great on steak but works well here, too.

There is steak, grilled hanger; it comes with herb butter, as well as fried potatoes and watercress. There's crispy, juicy roast chicken with greens, butternut squash, and - oddly - black beans. Pork loin is smoked, grilled, and served with the buckwheat polenta. These are quintessential corner bistro dishes, rendered in American vernacular.

Penne with spicy sausage and broccoli rabe seems a stylistic departure, but it's a good one - the sausage truly is spicy, and the chewy pasta cooked properly al dente. But cod with artichoke barigoule is bland; Pat's Wellfleet clams themselves are delicious, but their preparation - with apples, cider, and applejack liqueur, "in the style of Brittany" - is too sweet.

At a bakery-cafe, even in a nighttime incarnation, one wishes for great desserts. The Buttery's need work. A goat cheese tart is too sour, served with bruleed grapefruit slices and a balsamic reduction. With sweetened cheese, this would have worked. Chocolate stout cake is so dry it's hard to believe it contains thirst-quenching beer.

Better to stick with actual beer. There's a far-flung collection ranging from PBR to Guinness to a Belgian-style wheat ale from Colorado. The affordable wine list bounces around, too, fairly equally divided between New World and Old. A fun little cocktail list splits its time between classics (Aviation, Negroni, Pisco sour) and house inventions. The Cucumber Press, Hendrick's gin with cucumber soda, is so breezy it's disconcerting to realize it's also quite strong; the festive Logan, loganberry liqueur with prosecco, is what IKEA would serve as an aperitif if it had a liquor license.

Servers check in frequently to see if anyone needs more beverages, and cocktails reach the table lickety-split. This might be part of what makes the Buttery Bar feel so much more relaxed in the evening. In the daytime, it's a place to wind up with caffeine. At night, it's just right for winding down.

Devra First can be reached at dfirst@globe.com.