Being mostly made of browned nuts, it is also delicious. Whether it is truly Rocco’s is up for debate. It seems to strongly resemble the Life-Changing Loaf of Bread recipe that Sarah Britton published on her blog, “My New Roots,” in 2013, and that appeared on another blog two years later, with minor changes, as Game Changing Nut & Seed Bread. It’s one of the items that reflect Mr. DiSpirito’s recent obsession with nutrient-dense dietary supplements, although the way it keeps coming up in the servers’ patter makes you wonder if Mr. DiSpirito spent too much time as a QVC pitchman.

Anyway, somebody-or-other’s toast sits under the smoked gravlax, red with beet juice and very silky on its bed of coconut crème fraîche, that Mr. DiSpirito sends out as an amuse. A plate of the toast will also appear if you order the platter of acorn-fed, hand-sliced Ibérico ham or the chilled Maine sea urchins served on the spiky half-shell. Either one will convince you that Mr. DiSpirito knows how to get his hands on raw materials that can stun with almost no assistance.

The best things at Standard Grill, and there are quite a lot of them, depend on very good ingredients touched as little as possible. Back in the Union Pacific days, Mr. DiSpirito’s interest in East Asian cuisines came out in the form of complex preparations, arcane ingredients and out-of-nowhere juxtapositions. Now he seems to have moved on to the luxury minimalism of an omakase sushi chef, a style that was foreshadowed by the only Union Pacific dish he’s brought back, bay scallops and sea urchin with a few throat-searing drops of mustard oil. Standard Grill’s ice-cold cubes of bluefin chu-toro stirred with golden osetra caviar, meanwhile, could have come straight out of Masa, while the yellowfin tartare, barely dressed with crushed macadamias and freshly grated wasabi, is like one of the better items at Tetsu.

Each night there are half a dozen or so skewers cooked over Japanese charcoal and wheeled to the table on a mini-grill the size of a toaster oven. Speared on a stick might be fantastic small scallops out of Peconic Bay; a feathery mop of maitake mushrooms; buttery chicken livers with barely a hint of bitterness; or firefly squid, a little bigger than a fava bean and grilled whole so they can be swallowed guts and all. Again, the ingredients are exceptional. The skewers look simple enough, but they are all, you learn, brushed with “a little sauce Chef Rocco came up with to complement the charcoal.” The sauce for seafood involves coconut nectar and lemongrass, and what it actually does is put you, vaguely and pleasantly, in mind of Thailand.