Eager to attract more attention to the newest addition to the John Mautone and Michael Waterhouse family—their first-born is Dylan Prime—I received the offer of a free meal at Devin Tavern. Since a publicist-paid dinner should be handled differently than a proper review, let’s call this a dining story, one that begins on a Wednesday night in Tribeca at the restaurant’s well-stocked bar.

Dreading the hoops I might have to jump through in pursuit of my free meal, I delayed introducing myself to the hostess until I had a drink from Waterhouse’s seasonal cocktail menu. The master mixologist has added multi-culti touches like Milagro Silver Tequila and house-made Limoncello to turn the Anglo Tom Collins into the Raleigh Collins, which my husband Mike ordered, and Waterhouses’s caipirinha, which I was dying to try, is totally transformed by muddled basil and cracked white peppercorns. But while Mike’s was tart and quenching and went down like lemonade, mine was more savory than a dirty martini. So I sipped it slowly and observed the room. 

Behind the bar is a colorful portrait of a ruddy-faced gentleman in a tattered tweed coat. It’s not Devin—Devin is a Gaelic/Welsh word meaning “to be poetic”— but the man is meant to evoke “the Welsh sea towns of Dylan Thomas,” according to the restaurant’s press materials. (The owners, apparently, don’t allow their fascination with drunk poets to go gently into the night.) A gas fireplace and wrought iron sconces resembling anchors, each tine holding one votive candle, cast a warm glow on the brick walls and tan leather banquettes of the bar area, and the cream-colored wood accents throughout the restaurant and the den-like bar downstairs, tie the whole upscale tavern theme together.

Once I finally owned up to who I was, we were taken to our seats and handed the heavy leather menus to peruse—no special instructions or limits given. We started with the fall salad ($12) and the wild mushroom and bone marrow soup ($12). The greens—mostly frisée with a little baby arugula, topped with sautéed wild mushrooms and fresh goat cheese—were glistening. I had hoped it was the tawny port and shallot dressing that gave it such sheen, but I tasted mostly oil. And however fantastic the tender shreds of short ribs or the crispy wonton slivers were in the soup, it arrived lukewarm.

“I guess they’re not pulling out all the stops for us, huh?” I said to Mike, both relieved we weren’t being given special treatment and confused as to why we weren’t. But the tide began to turn when the waiter deposited a corn soufflé on the table, poked a hole into its steaming hot center and poured a little gravy boat of lobster bisque into it—a fun, tableside trick called the Lobster Corn Soufflé ($14). If we’d let it cool down, we would have tasted the fresh corn and chunks of lobster more, but the combination of this airy, almost custard-like soufflé, mixed with a dark roux bisque, was too tantalizing. And we were impatient. 

Before our mains came, I hit the cocktail menu again for an old fashioned, made with fresh figs, pears and oranges. It was sparkly, sweet and bourbon hot—a perfect rendition of the classic drink. 

But the best part of the meal was my lobster club, stuffed with a pound and a quarter of lobster—delicately dressed with leeks, chives, lemon confit and a dab of Hellman’s—and topped with butter lettuce and charred slices of pork belly (smoked and grilled like bacon), which is then all sandwiched between three slices of crusty, toasted white bread. It seemed like the embodiment of the very particular line Devin Tavern is walking between pub food and Gramercy Tavern’s haute fare. And yes, it’s pricey, but for $29, it could easily be split with a friend (a good friend who’ll understand if you take more than your fair share of the crispy shoestring fries, dusted with a house-made, Old-Bay flavored seasoning), though I was happy to devour it myself. Mike was also happy with his hulking, blackened bison rib-eye, ruby-red on the inside and magically tender, considering it lacked all the marbling of a traditional beef rib eye. 

For dessert, we resisted the chocolate covered potato chips that everyone adores and went with another paean to junk food—the dark chocolate waffle. It’s like ordering the dessert bar: a peanut butter semifreddo (like a super sweet, whipped peanut butter) is layered napoleon-style between two waffles doused in chocolate, with slices of bananas foster and caramelized peanuts on the side—a sugar shock so intense, it should come with a warning. 

The chef, 29-year-old Chris Dunn, ultimately came out to chat: a young, thoughtful man who described his attraction to straightforward food. We complimented him on everything, and I was honest when I said we’d be back and that, next time, I wanted to try the beef cheek tortellini and the grilled whole fish (and the seven remaining cocktails on the drink list). Sure, there are dishes that need some fine-tuning, but there are also flashes of greatness, a sign that both menus deserve further exploration. 

Devin Tavern

363 Greenwich St. (betw. Franklin & Harrison Sts.)

212-334-7337