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Tucked one block (and worlds away) from hopping Smith Street, this neighborhood spot avoids the requisite pretension of most wine bars, thanks to the Adirondack chairs on its unfinished porch and eclectic accessories we suspect were poached from an upstate farmhouse. Meanwhile, in a kitchen smaller than most coat closets, chefs working in full view of patrons turn out simple epicurean fare: house paté, white-bean crostini, and a selection of goat’s-milk cheese. Since food specials rotate daily and almost all of the wines are available by the glass, this is not the place to request “the usual.” — Amanda Pressner