From the moment you enter Level, John Hogan and John Miller’s chic new West Street eatery, and spot the large chalkboard listing more than a dozen local farms that provide the restaurant with everything from cheese to beef, you begin to realize you’re in the hands of an establishment that takes buzzwords like “local” and “farm-to-table” seriously. And if the list of purveyors doesn’t convince you, look closely at the right side of that board; it includes an equally long list of cocktails made with ingredients like house-made tonic, ginger beer, and sour mix.

Level, dear readers, is on the level.

If the restaurant’s raison d’etre—small plates and drinks made from products from local farmers—is a familiar one these days, the execution of the mission shows that it’s more than mere lip service.

All of these could be just gimmicks if the food and drink weren’t very fine. But luckily, it is. Level’s small plates include dips and soups, “leafy plates” and flatbreads, and clever takes on classic bar food. And with the exception of a plate of stuffed grape leaves filled with rice two shades too firm, each dish we sampled bore evidence of a creative hand and clear flavors.

Grilled bison satay (from Monkton’s Gunpowder Bison and Trading) melted in the mouth, and was such a table favorite that we bartered over the last skewer. But the loser (or maybe winner) of the deal got the last of the Cuban pork spring rolls: crispy outside, rich inside and served with an addictive sweet habanero sauce. Pork made another appearance in the crumbly nuggets of chorizo that dotted a heaping bowl of clams steamed in Pernod, white wine, and butter. The only thing that would have made the dish better was a hunk of bread to scoop up the crumbles of feta that floated in the unctuous broth. (Oddly, the restaurant doesn’t serve bread, and instead, our server suggested we order a flatbread, which topped with cheese and other pizza-like toppings, would not have served the same purpose.)

Not every dish at Level is meat-centric. Rockfish nuggets, dipped in cornmeal and flash-fried, were surprisingly light, and seared scallops wowed with their sweet-savory garnish of honey and garlic-infused olive oil. Vegetables, too, shone in their simplicity: an eggplant pancake that was actually just slices of the vegetable, grilled and topped with the same terrific feta, and crunchy steamed Brussels sprouts, vibrantly green and served “edamame style” with an earthy house-made tamari.

Our final two dishes fell on opposite sides of the cleverness line. A grilled cheese on house-made challah and tomato soup brought back cozy kitchen lunch memories, though Mom sure didn’t include grilled lamb in her sandwich.

(You don’t have to either; the lamb is optional.) And although the milk and cookies dessert also sounded comforting, it fell short of expectations with uninspiring chocolate-chunk cookies (heating them might have helped) and a tasteless cup of chocolate soy milk complete with “cookie dough foam.” It’s healthy, for sure, but wouldn’t real hot chocolate be a little more tempting?

Still, with its polished staff, warm space, and inventive dishes, Level is drawing in dines, even midweek. And it should. The restaurant is a fine example of the eat local theory put into practice.

Mary K. Zajac writes from Baltimore.