Quirky French Bistro in Typically New York Quarters

In New York for the James Beard Awards on Monday, I took the opportunity to check out some newish restaurants I had on my list. One place I really wanted to go was Prune, a little bistro on a block of East 1st Street that has become a mini restaurant row.

As we walked east in the dusk, I could pick out the globe lights in front and the door stenciled with the name Prune in a sweet old-fashioned typeface. It’s a tiny place, and I do mean tiny: Four or so seats at the zinc bar left over from the space’s previous incarnation as a French restaurant, a short expanse of banquette, and maybe half a dozen more tables covered in brown paper.

From one of those famously cramped New York kitchens, visible at the back, owner-chef Gabrielle Hamilton turns out wonderful and eclectic rustic fare. Bouquets of lilacs and baskets of lemons perch on the shelves. Her hair tied in pigtails, she looks completely at home in her kitchen. And as diners and would-be diners crowd into the warm embrace of this East Village spot, we watch, fascinated, from our wobbly table set with mismatched chairs. “It’s like one of those tiny cars stuffed with more and more clowns,” my friend Jon says, laughing. “Nobody seems to be leaving.”

As soon as the food starts to sail by our table, we know why everyone’s here. The menu expresses a quirky sensibility. Where else can you find sardines on Triscuits (with mustard), Wellfleet littleneck clams on the half shell, and braised tongue and grilled octopus with parsley sauce on the same menu? The latter, by the way, is delicious. As are the gloriously messy grilled heads-on shrimp in anchovy butter and the grilled handmade lamb sausage patties. Roasted marrow bones are irresistible, too, their richness offset by a bracing parsley salad.

Everything is pretty much meant for sharing, and the menu encourages it by mixing appetizer-sized dishes up with main courses and a handful of sides, including crushed new potatoes with butter, parsley and salt, and a salad of arugula and watercress simply dressed in virgin olive oil and a squeeze of lemon.

Whole grilled branzino is stuffed with fennel and presented head to tail on a long platter. Rack of lamb is lovely in its crust of bread crumbs and mustard. I like the pasta “kerchief” draped over a poached egg and a slice of pink French ham in brown butter strewn with toasted pine nuts. And at the next table, a British couple dig into braised rabbit legs--and those roasted marrow bones.

We put our dibs in for desserts early after I overheard someone groan to learn the Breton butter cake is already gone. But there’s still pithivier filled with pistachio paste and served with a scoop of tart buttermilk ice cream and blackberries, and a comforting tapioca pudding bru^lee.

After a while, we don’t notice the noise or the confined space (though I’m betting in winter, these can be a drawback). A glass of eiswein from British Columbia? Sure. And espresso? Why not? It’s easy to stay and stay, forgetting all the people at the bar waiting. But we don’t. Besides, I couldn’t eat another bite.

I still wish I’d ordered the Italian wedding soup, which our terrific waiter described as clear broth with sliced chicken, little lamb meatballs and bitter greens. What if it’s not on the menu the next time?

I actually thought about going back for lunch--if Prune served lunch, which they don’t. What they do have, starting on Mother’s Day, is Sunday brunch. What do you think? Doesn’t Italian wedding soup sound like a brunch kind of thing?

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* Prune, 54 E. 1st St., New York. (212) 677-6221. Open for dinner Tuesday through Sunday. Appetizers, $7 to $14; main courses, $17 to $30. No valet.