Follow a New York chef on her evening off and odds are fair you’ll wind up at Prune, Gabrielle Hamilton’s East Village restaurant. With its uncompromising food and close-packed camaraderie, Prune is a magnet for off-duty cooks. Matt Hamilton (no relation), who cooked at Prune for three years, and also at San Francisco’s Zuni, opened his own restaurant, Uovo, this summer. Uovo is similar to Prune in its exuberant style, but it constitutes a serious, if friendly, rival for the attention of the committed eater.

Uovo is Italian for “egg,” and the restaurant’s namesake crops up both on the plate and in the rustic decor, which is thematic but not over-designed. Egg shaped lights hang above the brown-paper covered tables; a large picture of a solitary, luminous brown egg adorns one exposed-brick wall of the simple, square room; smaller egg sketches enliven the restroom. Wraparound windows – thrown open in balmy weather – and comfortably spaced tables give the room an airy, relaxed feel. The endearing servers contribute to the mood: they seem to have been hired primarily for the earnest, amateurish enthusiasm they share.

Few dishes escape Uovo’s kitchen without being fried, grilled, and/or roasted, but the folksy, likable techniques don’t hide the fact that this is serious, grown-up food. As a child, not yet having developed an adventuresome palate, I might have loved the ultra-rich, earthy, sauteed duck liver ($13), but would have grimaced at many of the restaurant’s other delicacies, like whole bait fish, bunny sausage, or lamb’s tongue (“That’s a kind of lettuce, right?” one table asks hopefully). Today, though, these intensely flavored tidbits, which Mr. Hamilton treats with finesse, constitute the high points of the menu.

The restaurant’s name is Italian, but the seasoning palette is more Iberian than anything else. Pimenton – smoked paprika – gives fiery flavor and ruddy color to a terrific starter of roasted garlic soup ($6). A poached egg leaches yolk into the soup, which also contains crumbled sausage and a slab of rustic bread. Another soup, a chilled one, is a version of Spain’s ajoblanco ($7): made of coarsely pureed almonds and breadcrumbs, and vigorously seasoned with vinegar, olive oil, and garlic. Its tart-creamy flavor is keen and refreshing, but as a starter it’s awfully filling, like eating a bowl of almonds.

It’s hard, in fact, to have a light meal here. A slab of pork belly ($10), given a crisp char and slow roasted to the point of melting, is roughly one-half juicy pork fat and one-half super-succulent pink meat; it’s served on a bed of spicy sauerkraut. This sort of dish will be ideal in the dead of winter, to warm the spirit and build up a insulating layer of brown body fat; as a starter to a mid-August dinner it’s a delicious, staggering sedative. Salads have their heft as well, like one ($9) that pairs the aforementioned tender lamb’s tongue, sliced into fragments, with salty, hard sheep’s-milk cheese; or a classic, pretty arrangement of beets and lettuces drenched in creamy, piquant Gorgonzola dressing. Stuffed with fluffy salt cod and tossed in a buttery fish soup, a few pillows of pasta ($11) comprise perhaps the most moderate starter. (Note to the chef: if any restaurant could serve francesinha – the spicy, gravy-soaked grilled Portuguese sandwich of egg, cheese, and multiple cured porks – yours could. I’d eat it every day.)

An array of fried bar snacks can provide an alternate start to a meal, or, with a glass or two of wine, make up the entirety of the Uovo experience. A double handful of two-inch-long whitebait ($6) are deep-fried whole and served with lemony mayonnaise; as you wash down one tiny, tangy fish after another with crisp white wine, it’s easy to picture yourself in an idyllic, Mediterranean coastal tavern. Dill pickles, sprinkled with pimenton and fried in crispy tempura-like batter ($5), are a hot, messy Spanish take on a Southern treat. Dense-textured, battered sweetbread “poppers” ($7) go down easily, neither masking nor maximizing the organs’ soft subtlety.

Brisket ($23) is a winner among the main courses, and its best feature isn’t even the big cube of deliciously fatty roast meat, but rather the thick, crusty, savory chickpea cake it sits on, which deserves a spotlight of its own. A side bowl of thin, smoky barbecue sauce is enriched and complicated with a tinge of strong coffee flavor. Grilled rabbit leg ($24), served on an herby, woodsy bed of wild mushrooms, has remarkable, bright flavor, the sweet, pale meat of the leg doubled in a fresh rabbit sausage.

Monkfish ($24) has a crisply fried surface and wonderfully deep-flavored flesh, enhanced by an profusion of fresh tarragon in the underlying milky melange of market-fresh fava and shell beans. If there’s a disappointment on the menu, it’s due to misleading wording: the “whole suckling pig” ($22) is not the classic crisp-skinned Cuban or Chinese or Filipino treat, but a big pile of skinless, tender pork shreds. A slightly cloying citrus dressing detracts just a little from the satisfying dish.

A frequently changing muster of side dishes further highlights Mr. Hamilton’s commitment to fresh ingredients: sauteed bitter greens with anise ($6) and peas with fresh mint ($6) are among the best. Desserts are as bold as the rest of the menu, from a richly biting fresh-ginger pudding ($6) to a gorgeously farm-fresh strawberry shortcake ($8) and melon-blueberry parfait ($6). A splash of reduced sherry syrup gives sweet panache to a shareable large wedge of soft Humboldt Fog goat cheese ($9), a richly savory alternative to fruity sweets.

The restaurant offers just 15 wines, most by the glass, and none topping $70 (the top price is for a bottle of the flowery Flowers pinot noir). The offerings, which are well off the beaten track, and nicely suited to the cuisine, include a light Basque white, Txomin Etxaniz ($8/$32), which servers pour from a height to create effervescence; the full-bodied, cherryish Juan Gil red Jumilla ($8/$32); and a light rosado, the 2004 Vega Sindoa ($6/$24), with gulpable strawberry crispness. Potent white and red sangrias ($7) and a selection of fine, food-friendly beers complete the roster.

All in all, Uovo is thrilling. The small, personal scale fosters diners’ engagement with the interesting and varied food. All the components – great ingredients, punchy, inventive cooking, a chef with a vision – add up to a significant new destination for those who care about eating. This is a hatchling to watch.

Uovo, 175 Avenue B at E. 11th Street, 212-475-8686.