Eating at the E.U., one almost expects things to go wrong. Originally scheduled to open more than a year ago, the East Village restaurant has had a notoriously rough time since then, with an epic quest for a wine license, a series of chef departures, water leaks, and other hurdles. But no catastrophes whatsoever plagued my recent pleasurable visits. The curse may have lifted at last.

I’ve been faithfully marking my scorecard as chefs come and go at the E.U. We’ve seen Anne Burrell, Gwenaël Le Pape, Sarah Ochs, Ned Elliott — unless I’m missing one, I believe that Akhtar Nawab, the current talent, is the fifth chef in the E.U.’s short history. Mr. Nawab came to the E.U. from a noteworthy stint at Craftbar, and he manages the gastropub’s kitchen as though he’s been there all along.

The restaurant’s initials stand for European Union, and the concept is pan-European, a friendly greatest-hits tour of Italy, France, Spain, Germany, and England, conveniently all shoehorned into a single menu and filtered through an American comfort-food lens. That makes the menu sound complicated, which it isn’t, though it is macaronic and composed of many parts. There’s a section for “tapas — antipasti,” which is separate from “firsts,” though once a dish is on the table it’s pretty hard to tell in which category it might belong. There are also little menu boxes for cured meats, oysters, burgers, and cheese, along with main courses and sides (“acompañamiento”). It’s a good place to practice one’s linguistic dilettantism.

If badly done, the all-over-the-place character of the food could be awfully haphazard, but the chef is skillful, and within the studiously stylish lines of AvroKo’s pubby interior design, every piece fits together. Simple treats like fried smelts ($10), 3 inches long and whole except for their heads and tails, or a little dish of fresh, mustardy steak tartare ($7) are sheer pleasure, uncomplicated and delicious. A whole meal like that wouldn’t be a bad thing, but there’s some complexity to be had, too. A single large sweetbread ($12), crisped outside and buttery-tender inside, is drenched with syrupy, savory Marsala and strewn with sliced wild mushrooms on a sauce-soaked piece of toast. It’s like an illicit midnight snack of a high caliber. Pungent, fresh-tasting slices of mackerel ($7), toothsomely cured and dressed with lemon and crisp hearts of palm, make another superlative starter.

Mr. Nawab adds some trans-Mediterranean flair to a few of the dishes, dressing up Greek-style crisp-fried meatballs with thick yogurt and mint ($10) and spiking a long grilled octopus leg with north African preserved lemon and chickpeas. But the comfort-food zone occupied by the main courses spans just a narrow path. A smallish, drippingly juicy $15 burger is offered with a choice of two topping assemblages: “English,” a tart yellow cheddar, and “Italian,” prosciutto and salty pecorino cheese. Homey vegetable pot pie ($19), served in a cast-iron skillet for atmosphere, comes topped with a beautiful puff of puff pastry, and the filling — carrots, turnips, potatoes — pours on the cream like it’s just another vegetable.

Indeed, the chef never shies away from the various delicious incarnations of fat. Ultra-buttery brussels sprouts steal the show in a production of chicken and dumplings ($21) in which chewy gnocchi play the dumpling role and the chicken parts wind up nicely roasted but somewhat overly salted. Another skillet preparation, of baked rigatoni ($17) piled with braised pork and chard, is creamy enough to be called a gratin, though the chard and plenty of lemon cut the richness.

The dessert course ($8 each) feels a little short on ideas. The E.U. member countries are represented by game attempts at Italian *affogato*, Austrian Linzer torte, and English sticky toffee pudding whose toffee sauce is delicious but whose cake part is terribly dry. Orange-flower-scented doughnut holes, served with a delicate caramel-like “milk jam” for dipping, are citizens of the world.

Some staff members seem a little uninformed about the beverage list, which is understandable given the late onset of the liquor license. Sixty wines, almost all between $30 and $60, focus on France and Italy, but some excellent Spanish bottles can be had, as well as tastes from Slovakia, Switzerland, and Hungary. Five beers are on tap for when the cuisine calls for it; a $10 sampler platter with mini-glasses of all five is a good respite for those who hate to choose from among them.

The E.U. has cleared hurdles that would have stopped many restaurants and continues on like a juggernaut. That the food is so often so far above average is a delicious bonus. By design, it’s an easy, convenient hangout, with a melting-pot spirit that’s very American, despite itself.

The E.U. (235 E. 4th St., between avenues A and B, 212-254-2900).