PHOTO: B.A. Nilsson

A Job Well Done

The Factory Eatery & Spirits

20 Prospect St., Ballston Spa, 885-0500. Serving breakfast Mon-Fri 8-11, Sat-Sun 8-1, lunch and dinner daily 11-midnight. MC, V.

Cuisine: pub fare with surprises

Entrée price range: $7 (many sandwiches) to $16 (grilled ribeye steak)

Ambiance: cozy

By B.A. Nilsson

Carpenters swarmed in the up- stairs room when I saw it last week, adding fancy finish work to the walls and bringing to life a long, richly decorated bar. Hanging from the high ceiling are gear shafts and steel plates and wide cylindrical pulleys, looking like something out of a Terry Gilliam design.

“These date from when the building was a chocolate factory,” says Gregg Thomas, who co-owns the Factory Eatery & Spirits with Mary DeFilippo. Both have long roots in Ballston Spa, and Thomas can talk learnedly about many aspects of the village’s history. “That’s what was being produced here when the factory closed, about 65 years ago. Before that it was a number of things, but it started as a manufacturing center for flat-bottomed paper bags.”

Downstairs, amid a number of newly furbished office spaces, is the rest of the restaurant, the section that’s been open for about nine months. With high brick walls and exposed girders, it maintains enough of the factory look to recall the city’s palmy days even while giving an ironically cheerful look to what must have been a soulless place of employment.

But the look is new, the look of a place that was gutted and carefully restored. “I love fireplaces,” says Thomas, pointing out that the fireplace dominating the dining room was placed so that it’s visible from all seating areas—even the sports-bar area, assuming that the patrons of which can wrench their eyes from the TV sets that surround them.

The true personality of a restaurant is imparted at the door. How you’re greeted speaks volumes about a place, something the chain restaurants have nailed but which eludes many local eateries. At the Factory, the greeting is swift and sincere. You may be greeted by general manager Gregory Todd, whom you’ll recognize by the accent that belies his origin in London, and you’ll remain under his gaze as your meal continues. A veteran of many, many restaurants in this and other countries, Todd can’t overstress the importance of attentive service, and it certainly shows as the floor staff takes over and ushers you through your meal.

In our case, we made the acquaintance of Jane, a high-energy server who guided us through our selections and made sure we never lacked food or drink. Those free-refill sodas are a privilege I heartily abuse. And you’re instantly served a bowl of homemade Saratoga chips, saluting that city’s claim as the inventor of the potato chip.

With four pages of foodstuffs to choose among, an indecisive orderer like me ends up foundering. Fortunately, the appetizers list—boasting familiar bar food like mozzarella sticks, coconut shrimp, chicken fingers, Buffalo wings and the like, all in the $7 to $8 range—included Swedish meatballs ($7).

I’ll confess that those meatballs are the chafing-dish item guaranteed to make me groan when I arrive at a catered reception; finding them on a restaurant menu, however, made them seem unaccountably appealing. Then I learned that the day’s soup was potato leek, that most perfect of fall-weather blends, and the starters were set, my daughter and I trading them (until she permanently claimed the soup).

Not that there was anything wrong with the meatballs—far from it. But I suggest you order this when you don’t have more food due to arrive. They’re rich, served in a rich sauce and topped with melted cheese. Add a salad and you’ve got a meal.

The soup, whose summer sibling is chilled vichyssoise, had a big presence of bacon as well as small chunks of potato, making it a chowdery version of the classic potage parmentier.

It’s the best version of this I’ve tasted in a long time, so kudos to Factory chef Bob Ketchem.

A factory theme informs the menu, where the starters are listed as “1st Shift” and items sport monikers like “The Ironworks” (burger with bacon and cheese) and desserts are listed as “Overtime.” Entrées (or “2nd Shift”) include steak tips ($12), fish and chips ($11) and honey-stung fried chicken ($10). My barbecue-loving child ordered a half-rack of baby back ribs ($12), and received a perfectly acceptable plate: tender meat with a hint of smoke and a tangy topping of sauce. Todd noted that the smoke flavor arrives with the partially cooked meat, making him possibly the first totally honest restaurateur I’ve ever quizzed about ingredients.

Jane proved a great help in choosing my meal. I was heading Reuben-wards when she steered me toward another sandwich: “The Gobbler” ($7), which is pretty much a turkey dinner on toast. Then she let slip how much she liked the burgers, and I was sold—not on “The Laborer” ($20), because that’s a five-pound monstrosity of which three pounds is meat alone (“We put it on the menu as a joke,” says Todd, “but we sell two or three of them a month”). No, I contented myself with “The Bricklayer,” an 8-ounce burger with sautéed onions, bacon and blue cheese, served with pasta salad (which I chose instead of potatoes) and the usual veggies. Nicely charbroiled, served medium-rare, as I wished. Burgers can be bliss.

After a meatball apiece, we had packed up the remaining four; even so, Lily couldn’t finish the half-rack and I only made it through the Bricklayer because I had help from my kid.

Breakfast is a recently added option, expanded from weekends only to everyday fare; dinner specials add a more formal touch to the evenings. And there are sports- and holiday-themed parties to attend. The Factory has made itself an indispensable neighborhood spot.

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