TriBeCa has more than its share of top-flight destination restaurants, probably more per capita than any other Manhattan neighborhood. But comfortable non-famous places where you can grab a casual bite are thin on the ground – even thinner since likeable bistro Le Zinc closed last month. The Hideaway, which opened in September in a historic Duane Street spot, is a fine, cozy spot with a refreshing sense of humility.

It’s easy to mistake the little 20-seat place for a bar, and indeed it can function as one, with several beers on tap and about 50 wines, as well as a couple of big televisions (mercifully shut off on all my visits) and a breezy, informal feel. But Swiss chef Alex Oefeli, who cooked at Jasper and Atlas, has put together a small but legitimate menu. The rich starters can stand alone as snacks, but backed up by a meaty main course and a glass or two from the bar, they form a satisfying dinner.

Even so, it does occasionally feel more like a bar with aspirations than a restaurant.Vegetables are few and far between on the menu, and at one point I had the odd realization that, even though the place was full, none of the other customers were eating, just drinking. But the napkins are cloth, and Mr. Oefeli, who often mingles in the dining room between courses, is a serious cook. He smokes hard-boiled eggs ($6) before halving, eviscerating, and lightly deviling them. The resulting delicacies have amber surfaces, and luxurious, mildly seasoned fillings with none of deviled eggs’ classic heat but plenty of lingering smoky taste. Six half-eggs makes for a starter that’s best shared, unless Cool Hand Luke is your culinary idol. Likewise the pigs in a blanket ($6), is a substantially heaping plateful of mini-wieners, each stuffed into crispy, flaky puff pastry and served with hot mustard.

If Hideaway is trying to build the case that it’s a restaurant and not a bar, then batter-fried calamari rings ($8), that bar-menu staple – with spicy mayo, no less – seem at first blush like damaging evidence to the contrary. But these, so different from the thoughtless popcorn-like specimens elsewhere, actually argue in its favor. They’re cooked very lightly, so the tender, meaty squid comes foremost to the palate, instead of playing second fiddle to the batter’s greasy crunch. And the batter is paper-thin, light, and even, a crisp golden skin rather than nubbly brown armor.

Main courses run a curious, proteina ceous gamut from a $12 burger to a $32 steak. The burger is unusual, as smooth inside as a fine pate, with a toothy, salty crust. The accompanying chipotle ketchup has an excellent tang but, even in moderate doses, tends to overwhelm the burger’s delicate beefy flavor. Mr. Oefeli’s aesthetic sense clearly favors these smooth, velvety textures: not only the burger, but also the deviled eggs, the calamari batter, the cheesecake. He breaks the trend, though, with plump crab cakes ($12 for a small portion, $24 for a large), though: Inside their crisp crusts, they’re almost pure shredded crab meat, tangled and crumbly, with no filler. Accompanying the cakes we find a flourish of plant life, rarely seen in this carnivorous habitat: one salad of crunchy, faintly spicy cucumber slices, and another of tiny, crimson tomatoes.

At $32, the strip steak is 25% costlier than anything else on the menu, and the reason is not obvious to the tongue. It’s not two $6 glasses of cabernet better than the darkly tangy chili-rubbed skirt steak ($20), whose vinegary, smoky fire is soothed by buttery hunks of polenta. Nor is it two and a half times juicier and tastier than the burger. It’s just a good piece of beef, well girded with fat, well browned, and served with a double handful of fries.

Seared tuna steak usually evokes just yawns from jaded palates, but the one here ($24) restores nobility to an upstanding fish that is too often a pallid menu-filler. Dazzling fuchsia inside, with a thick, buttery sear, the large steak is moister than most and ripened with anchovy mayonnaise. Alongside are two cubes of panelle, thicker, cake-like versions of the thin chickpea fritters native to Sicily. The earthy, creamy snack complements the fish in unexpected ways, pointing out by contrast the latter’s refined texture and flavor. Other dishes – crispy, super-moist roast chicken ($19), and juicy, absurdly tender jumbo shrimp in chorizo butter – similarly start from a humble place and exceed expectations dramatically.

The lone dessert, a bone-white slice of cheesecake ($5), has none of classic cheesecake’s graininess, and little of its tang. It’s lighter, smoother, sweeter, and altogether easier to eat – irresistibly so.

Pints of well-chosen tap beers, including Fuller’s delicious London Pride ale, and easy-drinking glasses of wine, most for $6, are backed up by some weighty bottles, like a Biondi Santi Brunello di Montalcino ($325). Ramsay’s full-bodied pinot noir ($7/$32) has a rich balance and silkiness to match the food; a 2003 gruner veltliner from the Graf Hardegg estate ($7/$32) offers more body and character than many wines from this grape.

The Hideaway steers clear of show: Any eyebrow-raising here is done exclusively by the food. It’s not in competition with its world-class neighbors, but as an oasis of reliable comfort, it just might be a worthy destination.

The Hideaway, 185 Duane St., near Greenwich Street, 212-334-5775.