New Lilburn bistro finding its way with the neighborhood

Service: laid-back and casual

Best dishes: cider-poached chicken, white lightning pickles

Vegetarian selections: shepherd's pie, portobello burger, salads

———————-

Price range: $$-$$$

Credit cards: all major credit cards

Hours: 11 a.m.-2:30 p.m. and 4:30-10 p.m. daily

Children: fine

Parking: street parking

Reservations: yes

Wheelchair access: yes

Smoking: no

Noise level: moderate to high

Patio: yes

Takeout: yes

Address, phone: 107 Main St., Lilburn. 770-564-6911.

Website: www.1910publichouse.com

Having spent most of my life in Atlanta, it seems that I’ve explored every inch of the city and surrounding areas at one point or another. Yet, I was recently delighted to discover an unexplored small-town Main Street in our midst.

Tucked a few streets behind Lawrenceville Highway, Lilburn has its own hidden little town center complete with a great antique store, a stage for live weekend performances and the new chef-driven neighborhood restaurant 1910 Public House.

Restaurant owners Jennifer and Anthony Tiberia have experience creating just the kind of spot a neighborhood craves. They also own Sprig, a bistro nestled in the depths of the Oak Grove community. In fact, it was Sprig that led Lilburn’s downtown development authority to approach the Tiberias to open a similar local watering hole in the 1890s building on its main drag.

Sprig’s chef Robert Elliott now divides his time, spending half at the new 1910 Public House where he puts his own stamp on Southern comfort classics. Elliott has a tendency to tinker, sometimes delivering, sometimes not. Furthermore, the seniors and young children filling the tables may not appreciate his playful attempts, like putting peanut butter in the grits. Don’t get me wrong, there are some great bites to be had. Elliott just needs to tone it down and play more to his audience here.

Ride out the highs and lows and you’ll find a comfortable middle ground where you can have a well-executed meal in a nifty space with good bones. You’ll come to appreciate the simple dishes like the aggressively seasoned, cider-poached chicken ($17). The deep golden sear belies the moisture contained within. Paired with a gooey pimento-cheese potato gratin, you have the makings of a mainstay.

Other simple and successful bites include the white lightning fried pickles ($8), with a crackling-thin batter. Granted, I don’t get much moonshine from the thin ranch dressing, but I do like the idea of it as I spy the yellow-labeled bottle of Ivy Mountain sour mash high on the bar shelf.

1910 Public House also offers the fancy-named corn pudding with ale-battered tomatoes, another decent version of the fried green sort ($8). Go straight for the pudding, a jiggling little custard mass with whole corn kernels suspended inside. Pure cream and corn. Let’s nix the tomatoes from the dish and build one around the corn pudding.

And if you can reframe your notion of shepherd’s pie ($12), you might like Elliott’s tomato-heavy, vegetarian rendition. Much like a potato-substituted take on pasta primavera, layers include large chunks of zucchini and carrots in a thin and saucy San Marzano tomato sauce.

Elliott also allows you a look at his style with items like duck-and-stout Brunswick stew ($9), an interesting and unusual beer-flavored mixture studded with rich and greasy bits of duck. Similarly, his barbecuban ($10) will have you reconsidering your favorite sandwiches. Part sloppy Joe, part pulled pork sandwich, part Cuban with pickles, cheese and a crisped hoagie roll, this sammy jumbles my expectations of each in a way that leaves my belly satisfied and happy.

As much as I beg chefs to get playful and have a little fun with their menus, which Elliott definitely does, sometimes I eat those words. This would be one of those times. If you put peanut butter grits with fried chicken livers ($6) on the menu, I’m going to order it and wish I hadn’t.

This is a good example of when we overthink a dish. Elliott explains the peanut butter was intended to counter the gaminess of the tender, lightly battered livers. Analytically, it makes sense. Southern-speaking, who puts peanut butter in grits? Certainly not my table-neighbors, two local couples in their late 60s. The nut-butter-grits combo is about as good as it sounds. And that’s before we throw in the fried chicken livers. This dish offended my Southern soul more than any before it.

Though not offensive, some of the other dishes also need a little reworking. I appreciate the attempt to make a caprese salad with black-eyed peas ($10), but a pile of peas with a few tomatoes and mozzarella doesn’t make a composed dish. Something’s missing, methinks.

Same goes for the Cajun catfish and andouille hash ($14) served at brunch. I’m drawn to the idea of rolling up flakes of seasoned catfish, medallions of andouille and scrambled eggs in corn tortillas. Sweet potato cubes add a nice flash of sweetness, but we need a little moisture. Perhaps a salsa or sauce to tie it up?

While the inventive menu is well-executed, the beverage program at 1910 Public House suffers from the opposite problem. The cocktail menu offers a slew of intriguing options that aren’t made by a sure hand. Take the Rocketeer ($9), a sugary potpourri of gin, allspice dram, Peychaud’s bitters, torched lemon peel and smoked pear. Sounds good, right? More like drinking air freshener. Maybe next time I’ll stick with a can of the Uinta Baba black lager ($5.50) or one of the other beer choices.

I admire chef Elliott’s gumption for taking risks with the menu, particularly in this neighborhood bistro perfectly positioned in the heart of Lilburn. But he will have to persuade the area’s diners to come along for the ride, accepting both successes and flubs alike, as 1910 Public House carves out its own niche.