There are notable lapses. Quite good onion rings, lightly caramelized and riding in a sweet beer batter crust, became an exercise in monotony without a contrasting sauce such as mustard or horseradish. But that was probably a one-off oversight. A curious starter, "stinking potatoes," reeked not of some malodorous additive but of dreary, pointless tedium. Partway through the pile of boiled potatoes covered in a mild-to-the-point-of-boredom blue cheese, you realize that happiness depends on shoving the plate aside. It cries out for textural contrast — crisp bits of crumbled bacon, perhaps — and some depth of flavor.

But that's the worst of Budvarka. And after a few rough moments, the kitchen roars back to life. There's a spread with pork cracklings best described as a kind of meaty béchamel served with good dense bread. It begins to melt when allowed to sit for awhile, but without breaking down — a sign of fat in hearty (not necessarily healthy) doses, well-incorporated. And there's a large appetizer of goose liver sauteed with mushrooms in wine until a rich, earthy flavor develops, softened by a sprinkling of sliced almonds.

The ribs are wonderful, particularly if you enjoy the simple pleasure of grilled meat unadorned by such fineries as glaze or heavy basting. They are tender, though not overly moist, drawing character from natural fat and edges charred to a sweet bitterness.

The best example of Budvarka's atypical aspirations, though, is found in another simple item. At most Prague restaurants, it's wishful thinking to order steak. Although the recipe for a perfect slab of beef involves little more than high-quality meat, a dusting of salt and pepper, extreme heat and a minute of so of cooking time per side, most places happily plate inferior cuts burnt beyond recognition, drowning in sauce.

Budvarka's steak with pepper sauce relies on a good grade of beef that remains tender even when cooked beyond the medium-rare point. Pulled off the grill while still cool in the middle, it would perhaps mimic the cut-with-a-butter-knife beauty of USDA choice. Yes, there's a sauce, but it's a roux spiked with mellow peppercorns, applied grudgingly, that ends up as a mere distraction. There's also a side of scalloped potatoes, making for a comfortably upscale rendition of the all-American steak-and-potatoes meal from the Cold War era.

All in all, very satisfying. Taking price and venue into consideration, it's one of the city's best steaks. And these are definitely the best Midwest-style scalloped potatoes this side of the Mississippi.

Let's hope the juicy, meaty, masculine hunk of beef wasn't just a happy accident, and that Budvarka stays committed to the unusual goal of solid, occasionally innovative, pub cooking.