The simpler the dish, the more it demands of the cook. Every gesture counts, even the smallest, like the way Aida Demce, the chef of Dua Kafe in the East Village, places an earthen casserole into the oven while still empty, so it will be hot when the ingredients go in.

Then, she sautés bell peppers with tomatoes, onions, a handful of mountain herbs and Albanian gjize, a cheese made from curdled yogurt, as fluffy as ricotta but tangier, almost outright sour. The peppers are cooked until “soft but not too soft,” said Ms. Demce’s husband, Bobian, who runs the front of the house, then heaped into the waiting casserole for a turn in the oven.

This is fergese, and it arrives at the table still volcanic, accompanied by thick cuts of bread in a metal pail. It is just one in a parade of dishes at this homey Albanian restaurant that celebrate creaminess, which is to say an enveloping, voluptuous richness that is as much an embrace of life as it is of food.