Frank Sabatini Jr. | Restaurant Review

Hang an exclamation mark near the intersection of 30th and Upas streets, where a sure-footed restaurant continues swooning new customers with its culinary savoir-faire.

La cabra humeante has ascended steadily into prominence without relying on flaunty advertising or PR campaigns. While some locals still haven’t heard of the place, others know that making a reservation is a wise maneuver on most nights.

Chef-owner Fred Piehl launched the restaurant in 2010 with only a handful of tables crammed into a tiny space. Since expanding two years ago into the adjoining storefront, there is now ample seating that extends to a sidewalk patio as well as a crafty down-to-earth interior created by Los Angeles-based Bells & Whistles design studio. And with the new, glassy North Parker complex sitting across the street, the Goat is about to trot out of the shadows.

Piehl earned a grand diplome at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and his knack for balancing textures and flavors proves it. The menu isn’t entirely French, but if you arrive with a hankering for duck liver pate laced with butter and cognac and topped brilliantly with refreshing cucumber gelee, you’ll be sent over the moon by it.

Escargot au gratin is also on the appetizer list, with the garlic factor well controlled as to allow the herbs, butter and the snails themselves to make a tasteful statement. Both dishes are served with flame-grilled ciabatta bread.

Visiting with a longtime North Park resident, who said the restaurant somehow evaded him until last week, we continued with Piehl’s famous duck-fat truffle fries. The recipe was by no means invented here, but Piehl was among the first to introduce them to the local dining scene.

The spuds are fried in 25 percent duck fat mixed with rice bran oil, a relative newcomer to deep fryers that retains the crispiness of foods longer, even after they’ve cooled a bit. Piehl cranks up the golden sticks with a dusting of pecorino Romano and mustard aioli served on the side.

Tartiflette is an appetizer resembling fondue. It’s where Italy meets France as distinct taleggio cheese mingles with creamy brie in a silky melt capturing lardons (crispy pork fat), sweet onions and potatoes. The dish is more fitting of winter rather than August, but we didn’t care.

The Lyonnaise salad we shared was elegant except for the overuse of Dijon vinaigrette dominating such ingredients as chunks of pork belly, herby house-made croutons and a poached egg on top. Combined with the natural bitterness of frisee lettuce, the pucker factor was high. But it was the only blip in our meal.

Despite the restaurant’s name, goat cheese appears in just a few dishes including cheesecake with vanilla-poached nectarines. Piehl took his cue from a late aunt who was a goat rancher, although he plans on introducing goat meatballs “as an experiment” in a couple of weeks.

We were swayed by the menu’s two pork entrees: slow-cooked belly draped over smoked Gouda polenta and a brined pork chop crowned with lemon-chipotle butter. Both pieces of meat were astonishingly large.

My companion’s pork belly featured the prized layers we hoped for — the rich fat, the tender meat and thin sheet of flavorful skin. Too often in other restaurants one of them goes missing. Equally marvelous was the veal reduction spiked with Belgian red ale beer, which seeped lovingly into the creamy polenta and braising greens on the plate.

The chop was served over buttery, delicate green beans, tender fingerling potatoes and a smear of smoky tomato sauce that imparted an appealing sour tang. When first cutting into the meat, the texture was too firm for my liking, although it became exceedingly more succulent after moving past the end piece.

Other entrees include a catch-of-the-day fish with seasonal vegetables, a 10-ounce rib eye in red wine sauce and free-range lamb ragu with house-made gnocchi, which our astute waiter ranked as a top mover.

Of the hardcore, classic French dishes such as beef bourguignon and cassoulet, Piehl usually unleashes them in fall.

Smoking Goat’s wine list is lengthy if ordering by the bottle, with prices averaging about $45 a pop. The glass program is much smaller, but with a strong focus on varietals from France and California. We stuck to beer with glowing orange-honey wheat ale by Hess Brewing and the robust “Beaver’s Milk” stout from Belching Beaver Brewery that offered the color and flavor of dark coffee.

If you make it to the finishing line, the griddled banana bread served in a pond of foster-style liqueur sauce shouldn’t be overlooked. It’s rich, boozy and delightfully sticky. We also tried the peach-raspberry crisp, another winner that wasn’t overly sweet, but one that could disappear by the end of summer.

The Smoking Goat is well staffed by a young and highly professional crew dressed in black T-shirts and jeans, which sets the stage for a casual vibe. The food, however, corresponds to pricier white-linen establishments, French or otherwise.