Independent Bar and Kitchen celebrates unpretentious Euro-pub grub

Andrew Dilda, the executive chef of the 4-month-old Independent Bar and Kitchen in Dallas’ Deep Ellum, sent an email clarifying his unwavering guiding mission: “My real love is just cooking good food,” the 36-year old chef wrote. “That’s why I enjoy and love what we are doing at IBK. It’s just straightforward food. No real bells and whistles.”

Well, Dilda can rest easy, as his considerable labors in the Independent kitchen are largely paying off in food notable for its unpretentious presentation — no swoosh of foam in sight — and for his clear-eyed pursuit of food steeped in the casual cooking of any European pub or tavern.

It’s unabashed Euro-pub grub, with some American twists.

Many Fort Worth foodies will recognize Dilda’s name from the San Francisco native’s stints at some of the city’s most prestigious kitchens: Reata (twice), the now-closed Angeluna, Central Market and Tim Love’s Woodshed Smokehouse.

Moving eastward to Dallas and settling in at IBK, located in a former Tex-Mex restaurant and hookah lounge space, Dilda has crafted a straight-shooting menu mirroring the chef’s no-nonsense culinary style. The menu offers a manageable 31 dishes — divided into appetizers, “boards” (charcuterie and cheese arrays), salads, “plates,” “shared” or larger plates, and sandwiches. Sides from Brussels sprouts to tempura green beans, along with three desserts, round out the simple list.

The first hint of IBK’s European-tavern aspirations is its interior. There is a stamped-tin ceiling, and stained concrete floors are bordered by espresso-tinted poplar and ash wood paneling. Rough-hewn tables came from reclaimed wood. The walls are ornamented with vintage shots of barmen wearing ready smiles, and with German, British and Hungarian beer steins.

Through the flatteringly low-wattage glow of flickering candles on each table, I spot the spacious bar and its polished-brass top. Along the bar is an imposing lineup of liquor bottles, befitting a restaurant looking to host a series of Scotch tastings. That same bar is the source of 16 craft cocktails and 77 varieties of bottled beers, many from Belgium, Holland and Germany.

Among the pub-classic starters, including Scotch eggs and a root-beer pretzel, I chose the Black Angus beef meatballs ($10), with their bronzed-char exterior holding up nicely to the caraway-flecked gravy, whose thickness came from ground ginger snaps — a thickening product wildly popular with Bavarian grandmothers. The half-dozen meatballs gladly shared a saucy spotlight with irresistible tempura-sheathed hen-of-the-woods mushrooms.

Fried leek rings ($7), faintly scented of anise, were paragons of smart frying. Each buttermilk-dipped leek was speckled with only salt and pepper, and their crackling exterior readily plunged into the pepper-kindled chili aioli.

The butcher’s meats board ($15) checked all the boxes of what one expects to find at any pub from Dublin to Dallas. It boasted furls of soppressata, a red-wine salumi, coppa (cured pork collar), lamb sausage redolent of a Moroccan souk, pickled vegetables (asparagus, heirloom carrots), strawberries and rhubarb.

Then came garnishes such as house-made mustard and a curried, pickled condiment, along with three distinctive cheeses: an American blue, a Venezuelan cheddar with notes of roasted coffee and Brazos Valley cheddar, armed with a horseradish kick. Rounding out the board were ciabatta bread slices and a mix of almonds, macadamias, pecans and cashews, oven-toasted in a dusting of curry, honey and butter.

Choosing among the traditional English-Irish pub staples of fish and chips, bangers and mash, and shepherd’s pie, I went old-school Oktoberfest with the pork knuckle ($18). The softball-sized piece of pig was, after five hours of beer braising, remarkably tender. However, for all its suppleness, its overall taste was surprisingly wan. It needed a boost from that culinary cure-all — crisped pork skin — along with a healthy shake of salt and pepper. Its bed of herb-suffused spaetzle didn’t need any improvements at all.

I also had no complaints with the shrimp and grits ($18). Hulking U10 Gulf shrimp, lolling in their house-made Old Bay seasoning, joined a zesty sauce flavored with rendered speck, shrimp stock, lemon and butter. The Velveeta (yes, that Velveeta) grits were an apt accompaniment to the audaciously spiced shrimp.

Pastry chef Gaby Hernandez momentarily yanked me out of my Belgian-tavern reverie with her playful American spin on the French bistro classic, pot de crème ($7). Hers melds good ol’ American Cocoa Puffs cereal to the custardy mix, which was much more silken than a prosaic pudding. The accompanying peanut-brittle bar was certainly candy fun, but could challenge fragile molars.

Dilda has said that he was reluctant to continue with his early culinary experiences of elaborate, even froufrou cooking, claiming he would have felt “like Lyle Lovett trying to do a rap song.”

It seems that with Independent Bar and Kitchen, Dilda is right on key with his own down-home gastro-pub melody.

This story was originally published August 30, 2016 at 12:48 PM with the headline "Independent Bar and Kitchen celebrates unpretentious Euro-pub grub."