The easternmost end of Bleecker Street is gradually filling up with restaurants and bars: Bianca, Agozar, Von, and the identity-shifting corner spot currently known as Mannahatta have been joined by Quartino Bottega Organica, an offshoot of Quartino at South Street Seaport. Named for the quarter-liter carafe of wine that makes up its stock in trade, Quartino complements a small but solid wine list with a short, meat-free menu of organic Italian food.

Large windows, with a commanding view of Elizabeth Street’s arching trees, give the narrow room an airy feel. Sleek, sculptural bar stools at the tiny front bar lend the mirrored, parlor-like room a modern touch; a wealth of wine bottles lining the rustic exposed-brick walls makes no bones about the little restaurant’s focus. Behind the restaurant one finds a tiny urban yard, a quiet oasis in summer. The Italian-accented servers often seem overextended, rushing from behind the bar to the kitchen and back, and hurriedly stopping at tables en route. When one of them does get a chance to linger and chat, a definite warmth and personality pervades; one more person on staff might allow for a mellower experience all around.

The menu (which, like many in the natural-foods world, begins with a short statement of purpose) accommodates either full-meal dining or snacking over a glass or three of wine. A couple of simple salads (both $9) – one with arugula, parmigiano, and sliced pear, and another with mixed lettuces and avocado chunks – benefit impressively from the organic convictions of the kitchen: lush, sharp greens and handsome, aromatic fruit, with no embellishment required. A modest Nicoise-style salad ($9), made with just boiled potatoes, string beans, and canned Sicilian tuna, can make up a satisfying lunch-sized meal: the vegetables are warm, firm, and vinegary, and the tuna rich and meaty.

Lunchtimes also feature a small array of sandwiches made with whole-wheat focaccia. The thick, substantial bread provides a terrific foil to fillings like tomato, parmigiano, and dense cooked spinach ($7), or slices of sweet fresh mozzarella and basil ($5). These also make good snack-sized accompaniments for wine, as does a platter ($12) of shareably large cheeses: creamy, ultra-rich Taleggio, well-aged and complex Parmigiano Reggiano, and nutty, pungent Pecorino Romano. These partner admirably with the pleasantly full-flavored organic Limoux chardonnay from Domaine Delmas ($32); I leave additional pairing possibilities as an enjoyable exercise for the reader.

The “focaccia al formaggio” ($12) billed as a specialty is something else entirely; not the familiar puffy, oily focaccia as seen in the lunch sandwiches, but rather a pair of semi-crisp flatbreads sandwiching gooey, tangy stracchino cheese, delicious and too runny to pick up. It makes a good starter and pairs nicely with the crisp, light, organic Orleans Hill viognier ($8/$24). An individual mozzarella-and-tomato pizza’s crisp crust, made with a wholewheat flour blend, has much better texture than the average flabby wholewheat crust ($9), with no hint of coarseness or excess grain flavor.

Whole-wheat pastas don’t fare as well; achieving proper lightness and firmness with unrefined flour may be a pipe dream. Still, the noodles aren’t appalling, just a little too soft and heavy. Ravioli ($14) works best, particularly in a thick, rich walnut sauce whose toasty nuttiness complements the wheat’s savor, though the tangy marinara suffices as well. But pappardelle with pesto ($10) limps along soggily, and fresh taglierini ($12), oddly sauced with pale avocado puree and topped with unripe tomato chunks, falls flat, tasting neither delicious nor very wholesome. Pasta’s foremost mission should be to satisfy the body and spirit; these seem to have another agenda entirely.

A much better bet is the restaurant’s one venture into the animal kingdom: a plump white filet of cod (at $16, the most expensive entree), simple, butter-rich, very fresh, and accompanied by rosemary-roasted potatoes, miniature carrots, and a mound of savory cooked spinach.

The affordable wine list comprises just a couple of dozen bottles; half or so are organic and labeled in green. It starts with $7 carafes – the elegant Mezzocorona pinot grigio (nonorganic) being a fine example – and progresses to higher-end Italian bottles like the Piedmontese Zonchera barolo ’99 ($79) and the lauded Casanova di Neri Brunello di Montalcino. This uppermost tier of the list doesn’t include any organic wines; the priciest organic bottle is a Richmond Plains Reserve pinot noir from New Zealand, a silky wine with hints of oak and soil and a marvelously clean, heady feel that may be the result of biodynamic farming methods or may just be tipsy illusion.

Desserts are simple, almost austere: a lightly sweet pear cake ($6), a scoop of vanilla gelato ($4). Honey wines from California’s Honey Run Winery ($5), fermented with blackberry or cranberry, may do a better job of satisfying incorrigible sweet teeth.

Though it makes a few sacrifices in pursuit of its lofty organic ideal, Quartino Bottega Organica excels where it counts, providing a dependable, cozy atmosphere for the enjoyment of organic food and drink. If the cooking occasionally errs on the side of bland wholesomeness, the wine never does.