A neighborhood gem is born with the recent arrival of the Farm House Café in University Heights, where meals are stamped with enough rustic and savory character that you can almost imagine the sound of cowbells clanging from a meadow outside the front door.

Steering the kitchen is French Chef Olivier Bioteau, who launched the restaurant in February with his wife Rochelle after working seven years as a private chef in Rancho Santa Fe. Bioteau’s culinary creed is simple and desirable: “I follow the seasons when it comes to ingredients – and I’m cooking for the neighbors here, not for Thomas Keller,” he insists.

Setting the stage for the chef’s fleeting and succinct dinner menu is a modest-size bar, from which a friendly clique of patrons were howling over homemade chicken liver mousse when we walked in. Pillowed banquettes, dark wood tables and a few antique furniture pieces also soak up the tightly knit space, resulting in an ambience that feels genial rather than claustrophobic.

Stilton whipped cream was the charmer in potato-leek soup, a thin and super-smooth liquid that Bioteau strains until it’s completely fiber-free. A dash of salt, which I rarely employ when eating, made a world of difference in nudging out the flavor of the leeks. The chef’s restrained use of sodium was encouraging; as it aligns to my staunch belief that salt murders scores of commendable recipes cooked in so many fine restaurants lately.

A basic, yet exquisite salad of romaine leaves embracing shaved jalapeno gouda from Winchester Farms gave way to a couple of stellar starters, including the aforementioned mousse. To the eyes, it looks as dense as paté. In the mouth, it’s both airy and sinfully rich, offering whispers of garlic and Pineau des Charentes, an un-fermented grape juice added to cognac.

Hickory-smoked duck breast was also fantastic. It’s served over nourishing lentils and frisee lettuce tossed with Dijon and basil olive oil. The smokiness of the fowl was surprisingly passive, allowing the other elements on the plate to sing in unison.

Obscure and reasonably priced wines from France, Spain and Australia are particularly noteworthy. They’re carefully chosen to match Bioteau’s down-to-earth meal compositions that keep up with farm bounties. His wife, who gained considerable food and wine knowledge working years ago at Laurel, often jumps into the arena to pair either entire dinners or select courses for customers seeking a reliable crutch. Wines such as Corbieres Rose from France, a straight-forward Chateau Bolaire Bordeaux and a Spanish white Macabeo were among the labels she poured us along with way, exposing our palates to an array of flavor profiles that take a refreshing departure from California-style vinos.

From the entrée menu, we went into mourning after reveling in porcini mushroom risotto with asparagus and green garlic, learning that the item is being relegated to an occasional special once the chef rolls out his spring menu. The dish scored a “10” in creaminess and beat out all other risottos I’ve eaten over the years in terms of taste.

With only five other main courses in the offing (a reliable indicator that a kitchen focuses hard and strong on quality), we added to our repast braised pork shoulder cooked in white wine, shallots, leeks and carrots. The chef knew when to pull the plug on the braising, as the meat hit that perfect tender point without losing its porky essence. A disc of mashed potatoes underneath was a tad soggy, perhaps losing some thickness from a moat of the homey braise surrounding it.

Grilled flat iron steak from Meyer Ranch, ordered medium-rare, was as good as top sirloin. The filet sported an even-red center, a nice peppery flavor and puck of softened blue cheese that melted over the steak before our eyes like warm butter. Long, skinny French fries heaped alongside qualified the dish as “pure Parisian.”

Other entrees included rustic, homemade pasta tossed in roasted vegetable ragout, seared Corvina sea bass in bouillabaisse broth and a burger crowned with Tillamook cheddar and pickled onions. The list, however, is destined to change in the next week or so, just as farmhouse suppers would conform to the yields of the land every few months.

Bioteau is also a chocolatier, and you’ll be remiss to pass up his crafty sampler of bite-size treats made daily with Callebaut chocolate from Belgium. The lineup is served with a cup of coffee. Another dessert winner is coffee pot de crème, a silky custard-like creation boosted by cocoa nibs and served with Scottish shortbread.

Service runs at a leisurely pace, fitting well with Bioteau’s fondness of the slow food movement, which has less to do with speed and turnover than it does for embracing regional food in a comfortable and sociable environment.