Cheng: The hearth is the heart of northeast Minneapolis' Black Duck

Like at any easygoing restaurant, the menu of the low-slung, white tavern building in Northeast offers oysters, smash burgers, waffle fries and a Caesar.

But you'll also find pierogi, a fried chicken sandwich and an octopus chorizo stew. The Polish staple is a fine expression of what a grandmother would make — glossy dumplings shaped like miniature scallops, filled with potato, dotted with chive — beautifully presented on dishware that she'd reserve for guests. The batter on the fried chicken tenders shatters on command. And though the octopus doesn't lend much except brine to this stew, it delivers the soul-affirming heft you need as winter beckons.

The restaurant that delivers (finessed) comfort across cultures is Black Duck Spirits & Hearth, and its chef, Jason Sawicki, is cooking food that transcends his experiences cooking and working under Alex Roberts at Alma and Gustavo Romero at Oro.

Yes, there are dishes that may recall ones from those storied restaurants, but at Black Duck, fire, Sawicki says, "transcends cultural traditions." Flanking the open kitchen, where a towering Sawicki holds court, is a large hearth, a vessel over which the meats and vegetables are smoked. This is the place to commune for a meal on both casual weeknights and more buttoned-up weekends, in the industrial environs that encourage any restaurant goer — neighborhood dwellers, couples, families, among others — to dine as they wish. But to get closer to the action, I recommend that you sit at the kitchen counter, by the fire.

It's fire that inspired Sawicki six years ago, after he opened the Northeast restaurant Popol Vuh with his friend, chef Jose Alarcon. When plans for his own restaurant began to form, and while waiting for a loan to clear, Sawicki drove a food truck from San Antonio, then parked it at the space where Black Duck's patio now sits. There, he began experimenting with hearth-cooked fare, vending poblano mac and cheese, ribs and tacos. He called it Fare Game.

At Black Duck, Sawicki more deeply embraces terroir, grounding dishes in time and place as Minnesota's foodways evolve. And the namesake duck entree does transcend cultures. It arrives magnificently fanned like the feathers of a peacock, a bestial pink, juxtaposed against mole amarillo and gigante beans. It's French in guise, Mexican in flavor, New American in spirit and — when the kitchen gets it right — a terrific dish.

When in a simpler mood, I think more fondly about the harissa-glazed pork belly: its dark, crisp edges; the textbook ratio of fat and lean; the very cumin-forward carrot purée. I preferred it to the moist-enough pork chop atop a sauce that's thin but throttled with mustard — a good thing — and crowned with cubes of pickled squash for brightness.

On my mind, too, is the way Sawicki incorporates smoke into the bone marrow aioli that binds beef tartare. He adds to an already dizzying repertoire of the tartares across the city by envisioning and executing a version that deserves your attention. He smokes the marrow, scoops it out, leaves behind a smoked, fatty tallow that slowly streams into the aioli, then serves it with tartare and soldiers of handsomely singed brioche.

When Sawicki and his team are dialed in, a meal at Black Duck can feel like it's been conceived by a worldly Polish family whose sole purpose is to nurse you with food that quietly astounds you.

This meal can also feel aimless. Accompanying the duck is a cream sope, or a masa tart, that felt out of place. Crowning the duck liver pâté is a bevy of accoutrements that clashed: pickled fennel, apple mustard, parsley. Miso rounded the edges of a cacio e pepe gnocchi, but wasn't the right bedfellow for the heady pecorino.

On occasion, the vegetables feel the need to dress up beyond their supporting roles. Did roasted carrots need anemic, erratic blobs of chèvre? Do haphazard chunks of pickled carrots add anything to cauliflower? And is mint pesto the right foil to temper the heat of an otherwise memorable delicata squash?

Do note that dishes change frequently, which means your favorites (pork belly, for one) may be swapped out, but it also means the kitchen hones, tweaks and chooses adventure. This may not forgive inconsistencies, though. Cauliflower was near-raw once and soggy the other; duck was several notches past medium during one meal; the pork was impenetrable the first time I tried it; some meats weren't well-rested; and gritty textures pervade more than several dishes, including a coleslaw that accompanied a barbecue special, the duck liver pâté, and a Basque cheesecake that eats like an off-brand, American one.

Sometimes all it takes is one dish to make you forgive and forget. Not the duck, nor some phantom special, eye-wateringly expensive steak for two, but the half chicken. The oft-neglected dish gets its due under Sawicki by smartly fusing his cultural influences: an Amish-farm breed, brined for days, smoked in spices before it crisps in the oven, so it's impeccably moist; then dressed with purple horseradish cream inspired by a Slavic condiment called Ćwikła, along with chimichurri.

It's not only the chicken that redeems, the prices do, too. Thirteen dollars will buy you a cocktail, and the broad list of spirits — in keeping with the restaurant's theme — allow diners to imbibe on fine whiskey, bourbons and mezcal for well under $15. The pork chop is $35; that chicken, which easily feeds two, is $32; and there are excellent paczkis (filled doughnuts that resemble bombolonis) for $4.50.

In this inflationary environment, the prospect of dining out with a meal of this caliber for under $80 is increasingly slim. Not at Black Duck. Plus, who wouldn't turn up for a good fire on a very cold day?

Black Duck Spirits & Hearth

⋆⋆ ½ Highly recommended

Address: 2900 NE. Johnson St., Mpls., blackduckmpls.com

Hours: Wed.-Mon.; kitchen 4-9 p.m., bar 4-10 p.m.

Recommended dishes: Beef tartare, pierogi, duck, half chicken and the paczkis.

Prices: Perhaps a nod to his food truck Fare Game, the menu is separated by cold fare ($4.50-$19), hot fare ($11-$23.50), hearth fare ($24.50-$38.50), bar fare ($7.50-$15.50), and vegetal fare ($14.50-$16.50).

Beverages: As the restaurant name implies, there's an extensive list of spirits and inventive cocktails under the direction of bar manager Ra'Jean Jones.

Noise level: Comfortable, but the lack of insulation means that certain pockets of the restaurant can be louder during peak evenings.

Tip or no tip: Standard tipping model applies; no hospitality charges.

Worth noting: The sprawling patio will make this a summertime destination, too.

About restaurant reviews: The Minnesota Star Tribune's restaurant critic visits restaurants multiple times with different dining companions. He attempts to dine anonymously, and the Star Tribune always picks up the tab.

What the stars mean:

⋆⋆⋆⋆ Exceptional

⋆⋆⋆ Highly recommended

⋆⋆ Recommended

⋆ Satisfactory

Jon Cheng is the Star Tribune's restaurant critic. Reach him at jon.cheng@startribune.com or follow him on Instagram at @intrepid_glutton.