“They had me at green velvet.” That’s what my dining partner said when we were led to the dark-green velvet-seated and matching leather-backed booths at Brunswick & Hunt, a new restaurant on Ballard’s increasingly restaurant-clad Northwest 70th Street. (It joins Delancey, Essex, The Fat Hen, and Honore Artisan Bakery).

And I couldn’t agree more. The restaurant’s interior has a backstory, of course, concerning how its very old paintings and bar were found and restored. To be honest, I’m pretty maxed out on the folklore of dining establishments and their “reclaimed” accoutrements (bring me a Roman relic and we’ll talk), so I’m not going to share, even though I have a little sheet detailing the story in front of me. (They give them out at the restaurant, so if you really care, read it there.)

But don’t let my lack of enthusiasm for the tale of the interior belie how much I love it. A massive fin de siecle landscape painting and a smaller sister painting are lovely and help give the restaurant its clubby, rustic elegance. And the behemoth antique backing the bar is one gorgeous feat of woodworking, the place’s piece de resistance. It’s huge, walnut-hued, and bears intricate carved detailing.

These items, paired with those gorgeous greens, combine to great effect—and, what’s better, tie in with the restaurant’s Pacific Northwest take on classic dishes. Here is a restaurant for adults, thought out by adults; it’s the first one I’ve been to since Westward’s opening that feels like a complete vision realized.

Incredible french fries. Photo by Morgen Schuler

The kitchen, too, manages something few restaurants in Seattle do: cooking quality food flawlessly without relying on all the voguish ingredients that ultimately are either scant in a dish or irrelevant. Yes, there is foie gras, but it’s done thoughtfully, as salt-cured medallions that melt into a sweet carrot puree with a basil pistou. But before I speak of all the things I love here, let me address the elephant—er, chicken in the room.

You may have heard of a wondrous fried chicken served here, and your server may in fact tell you that it’s one of their most popular dishes (though on one visit he told me they might be discontinuing it). But don’t order it if you truly love a traditional Southern fried chicken. The dish features two large pieces that have been brined in saltwater for 24 hours and then cooked sous vide for three more. The result is moist meat, of course; that’s what sous vide does. But moistness alone does not a great fried chicken make. While some things, like fatty meats, are great for sous vide, this technique doesn’t necessarily lend itself well to lean chicken. The result was a strangely rubbery, artificial texture and tasteless meat, with a skin that pops off like a shell.

OK, let’s move on. From the menu’s “To Share” section: Buckwheat hearth bread with roasted Hatch chile mornay, jambon cru, and pickled peppers is essentially a queso, but the best one you may ever have in your life. Ditto for their fries, served with a stone-ground mustard and a curry ketchup. Seattle restaurateurs: Please come and try these fries and figure out how to replicate them. And while you may be feeling a little tired of the Brussels sprouts craze, this version from the “Small Plates” part of the menu will surely whisk away your jaded air. Cooked with walnuts, lardons, and truffled honey, these sprouts could be a complete meal by themselves. And though the cauliflower served with roasted golden beets, nuts, and seeds was a little on the dry side, the blast of mint vinaigrette almost made up for it.

Pan-seared duck breast. Photo by Morgen Schuler

Entrees, chicken aside, were some of the best I’ve had this year. I’ve seen barely any restaurants doing duck lately (unless it’s a confit), and the pan-seared duck breast au poivre here makes you wonder why not. Duck breast, when cooked to this medium-rare precision so that the subtle pepper sauce beautifully accents its natural sweetness, is a grown-up dish that requires no bells or whistles. It’s served simply with wild rice, which you’ll use to sop up all the meat’s juices and the sauce.

So smugly satisfied with my dish, I tried my friend’s entree with little interest, ready to dive back into my duck instead. But, to my surprise and delight, his meal closely rivaled mine. Shredded pieces of braised oxtail came on a bed of orecchiette pasta with an arugula coulis, cipollini, fried crimini mushrooms, and pecorino. Somehow the mix of the rich meat with the hearty pasta, the bright arugula sauce, and the sweetness of those lovely onions combined to create a perfect, uniquely inspired dish.

Dessert, an apple fruit crumble, was also a winner. Unlike a lot of crumbles, the fruit cooked down to mush and laden with far too much crumble, this one had large chunks of sweet baked apples that still had a crunch to them and just a smattering of topping. A dollop of creme fraiche was a perfect, restrained touch. Again, grown-up fare.

Apple fruit crumble. Photo by Morgen Schuler

Unfortunately for you, the word is out on this place. I secured a Friday-night reservation the day before—but with only two options, 5:45 or 8:30. Once I was there, the room quickly filled, and the same server who’d been almost too didactically helpful on an earlier weeknight was now harried and curt. In fairness, only one other server was working the large room. This meant that we lingered over our drinks for quite a while waiting for our appetizers (I suggest the Alouette if you like citrusy cocktails; the Huntsman if you’re more of a whiskey drinker), and that the fries we planned to eat with our entrees got gobbled up during the 20-minute wait. I’m hoping that they simply weren’t prepared for such early success and will staff up accordingly, at least on the weekends.

After a spate of lackluster openings, it was a pleasure to dine in a restaurant that knows itself. Brunswick & Hunt is the real deal. And, hey, if you find yourself with a little wait time between courses, maybe it’ll give you a chance to read about the provenance of this wonderful restaurant’s fabled decor. Brunswick & Hunt 1480 N.W. 70th St., 946-1574, brunswickandhunt.com. 5–10 p.m. Wed.–Sun.

nsprinkle@seattleweekly.com