With a name reminiscent of a plucky children’s-book hero, Little Giant instills a cozy, fond feeling; the 30-seat restaurant, slightly off the beaten track at the corner of Orchard and Broome streets, is filled with personality. Tasha Garcia and Julie Taras, young first-time owners, have given the restaurant homey, clever touches ranging from unique cocktails and modish pillows to a well-programmed indie-rock soundtrack. Floor-to-ceiling windows and a striking vaulted brick ceiling define the small, unusual room; Ms. Taras’s brother, Jeffrey Taras, has outfitted the interior with stylish custom-designed plywood chairs, tables, and shelving that make elegant use of the tight space. The pleasing, organic shapes and colors of the furnishings and a Russel Wright-esque variety of keenly detailed wood, metal, and ceramic dinnerware add significantly to the dining experience.

The cooking, like everything else, is homespun and personal, changing according to what’s on offer at the greenmarket. The minimal open kitchen produces sturdy, interesting dishes, each engineered from a few punchy flavors. Some dishes bear jokey names seemingly chosen more for their own sake than for the customer’s: Calling a dish “Box of Rocks” gives perversely little hint of its appeal. But for the most part, the inelegant whimsy enhances the casual mood, especially when it makes a shyly affable waiter giggle with sympathetic embarrassment at an awkward sounding order.

The “Box of Rocks” ($12) turns out to be a starter of cockles steamed and served in a garlicky herb broth: the dish owes its name to its square receptacle. Small and succulent, the shellfish have an unfortunate tendency to abandon their shells during cooking, leaving the diner to search through opaque broth and evacuated shells in pursuit of the little morsels. Rustic bread with a trace of char provides a sop for the excess broth. Chicken liver mousse ($10), light in texture and flavor, with the sweetness of tarragon and plenty of salt, comes in a tiny saucepan; a deep flavored fig-and-onion compote arrives alongside, with grilled bread on which to spread either delicacy, or both at once. Hot slices of coarse housemade sausages ($11), in pork, lamb, and duck varieties, are served with seasonal housemade mustards: one familiarly yellow and vinegary, the other two dark and fruity. The rich, juicy sausages themselves taste unmistakably of their component meats.

Billed as “Swine of the Week,” a main course of Berkshire pork shoulder ($19) has the powerful porky flavor of that newly popular breed, clean and distinctive. A cider braise and bed of crunchy apple-fennel slaw draw out the strong flavor rather than tame it. Crisp and doughy little dumplings made with swiss chard give the dish a starchy ballast. Braised short ribs of beef ($21), mellower than the pork and just as tender, sit in a meltingly creamy pool of rich polenta. Roasted mushrooms and bitter sauteed greens lend complexity.

“Duck, Duck, Goose” ($21) includes no goose, sadly; instead, round ravioli filled with moistly meaty duck confit bed down with very rare slices of supple, fresh-tasting duck breast. The pungency of baby turnips complements the rich meat nicely. In “Baby’s Got Bass” ($22), a distant relative of bouillabaisse, a delicious but mild filet of wild striped bass is slightly overwhelmed by sweet little baby clams, smoky bacon, and an earthy salad of mixed lentils. An accompaniment of aioli-spread croutons has unexpected garlicky bite.

Menu-writing whimsy strikes again on the dessert menu, whose contents are categorized by utensil into Fork, Fingers, and Straw. Grilled pound cake ($9) is dry and disappointing, its mulled compote and whipped mascarpone toppings unharmonious. Mochi ($9) makes a much better choice: four pristine spheres of delicate ice cream, in such flavors as pistachio and chocolate espresso, are enrobed Japanese-style in chewy, almost sticky rice dough. A cocktail of Hamptons banana vodka and banana gelato ($9), adorned with a slab of peanut brittle, is an elemental dessert, sweet and fruity and uncomplicated. Best of all, though, is “Milk & Cookies”($8), a supremely domestic tray bearing an oatmeal cookie, a chocolate chip cookie, and a ginger snap, all piping hot and chewy from the oven. Accompanying them is a mug of steamed milk spiked liberally with chocolate liquor: an excellent fortifier before stepping outside on a winter night.

The restaurant offers three red and three white wines by the glass, including RBJ’s Vox Populi ($10), a sunny Australian tribute to Cotes du Rhone that tastes of fresh berries, and a crisply food-flattering Vouvray from Domaine Bourillon D’Orleans ($13). About 40 wines by the bottle are offered too, in an interesting variety from all over; few are over $60. A list of cocktails includes just a few familiar ones: the rest are thought-provoking concoctions like the sweet, plummy “Professor Plum” gimlet ($10), made with vodka, limoncello, and prune juice, and the “Little Giant,” a shot of Sauza tequila served with a round of lime that the drinker is supposed to lick: it’s dredged in fine-ground coffee on one side and coarse raw sugar on the other. The coffee and lime’s brash edge temper the bite of the liquor nicely, although a less messy, less avant-garde method of combining the flavors might be preferable.

The space-constrained kitchen can slow down during peak hours, resulting in delayed orders and stressed servers. Occasional foibles ensue – undercooked vegetables, absent dishes, and eye-wateringly salty desserts among them – but, by and large, the intense, ambitious attention to detail that typifies the restaurant prevails.

For all its fanciful personal quirks, Little Giant serves serious food, and charges serious prices for it; little though it may be, the restaurant is contending in a biggish league. True to its name, the offbeat powerhouse has the heartwarming appeal of an underdog, but there’s no real doubt about its assured success.

Little Giant, 85 Orchard St., 212-226-5047.