Even in their own restaurants, many chefs are slaves to their themes, spicing and composing their dishes to suit the prevailing genre. If they think outside the prescribed format, it typically results in an uncomfortable twist, a forced shoehorning of one idea to fit another. Refreshingly, at his new brasserie, Klee, Daniel Angerer cooks according to his own inspiration: He is his own theme.

The name reflects the chef ‘s Austrian birth, and so do a handful of the dishes — schnitzel, Sacher torte — but following his strengths carries him all over the map, from paella to rigatoni to meat loaf. The general mood tying it together is one of heartiness and comfort. The space is not a particularly slick one, in a neighborhood of carefully designed restaurants, but it is cozy.

A starter the menu calls thin-crust pizza ($12) is really a superb version of flammekuche, an Alsatian tart that’s a closer relative to pastry than pizza. Its salty, crisp shell is thinner than any Neapolitan effort, and thickly topped with bacon and sweet onions. It’s a wintry classic, delicate but rich. But a twist on a warm-weather dish goes down just as smoothly: Italian cold sliced veal with tuna sauce becomes heartier when fatty, hammy slices of Berkshire pork substitute for the veal. The thin, tangy sauce keeps it light, and big caperberries add zing and balance.

Prior to Klee, Mr. Angerer worked at the TriBeCa trio of seafood shacks Fresh, Shore, and Coast. Here, as there, he shows a distinct knack for making familiar dishes interesting, as well as a superior touch with seafood. The large, uneven pieces of salmon-like char that make up a big glass of fish tartare ($12) slide against each other with a creamier texture than similar dishes typically have, thanks to an unctuous lime dressing.

The restaurant is open seven days a week, with 14 rotating daily specials: two each night. Each evening includes a wholesome, comforting pasta, ranging from spaghetti puttanesca to lobster macaroni and cheese, all served in half or whole portions. On Wednesdays, plump dumplings filled with short-rib meat ($14/$20) fall apart in their bowl, spilling the deep-flavored beef out into a waiting pool of savory broth. There’s also a daily main course; Saturday’s is an enormous, skillfully fried Wiener schnitzel ($24), flawlessly breaded and moist inside. It could be more flavorful, but a little dish of lingonberry sauce snaps it awake when liberally applied.

The regular roster of main courses come from a blazing wood-fired oven and grill, and include a swordfish steak ($25) whose beautiful embonpoint puts very many restaurant fish to shame. Moist, muscular, and tasting distinctly of the grill, complemented with a smoky creamed chard and crisped speck ham, it’s like a fish in meat’s clothing. A roasted chop of rich Berkshire pork ($22) pales in comparison, but not in a bad way: Its flavor is delicate and sweet, and Teutonic accents of red cabbage, mustard, and apple wedges bring out its warmth. Roasting works wonders for a fat little duck ($25) as well, giving it all the crisp skin and juicy meat one could desire, for which plum jam and quinoa, a barleylike grain, provide an earthy backdrop.

Desserts are in an Austrian vein and not as dazzling as what comes before. Apple strudel is barely sweet, with a nutty wheat taste predominant; it shouldn’t need sweetening from the accompanying lingonberry sauce, but it does. A fine house-made rum ice cream steals the show. Cookie ice cream can be enjoyed, too, in a trio of tiny profiteroles. A scoop of plain vanilla suffices as accompaniment to the piping hot bread pudding ($9), which one can douse to taste in an eggnog-like custard.

About 20 wines are poured by the glass or carafe, including a light, food-flattering red made from the zweigelt grape by Austria’s Pöckl ($7/$11). A further wealth of bottles is hidden in a binder that wasn’t offered at first; we had to ask. It wouldn’t be a modern restaurant without cocktails: Selections include tequila with elderflower ($12) and a “Hemingway Special” of dark rum, mint, and house-made bitters ($12).

Klee is a thoroughly pleasant surprise, a restaurant that doesn’t make much of itself, but simply provides quality goods with effortless, agendaless style. The low-concept, high-flavor approach is one that other new restaurants would do well to emulate; we’ve been seeing all too much of the converse.

Klee Brasserie (200 Ninth Ave., near 22nd Street, 212-633-8033).