WELLS — I’ve always had a weakness for gravy.

I’m of the mind that Thanksgiving turkey is simply a vehicle for gravy, and it’s the main reason I love a little poutine from time to time, since I can usually take or leave fries on their own. When it’s really good – and made from real, slow-simmered meat stock, not canned broth or bouillon – I could honestly just drink gravy straight from the boat, if weren’t so socially unacceptable.

So of course my pulse quickened when I learned about Gravy, the gravy-centric, fast-casual restaurant that opened last summer in Wells.

The restaurant is set along Route 1 in a home-style building with a side deck that seats 80 indoors and another 80 outdoors in season. I sat at the bar for lunch on a recent Monday, while a helpful and friendly server walked me through the menu.

One side of the Gravy menu features a “build your own combination” list of gravies, meats, starches and toppings to choose from. The restaurant features eight different gravies, representing popular styles all around the country, from a Creole tasso ham gravy and New England mushroom gravy to creamed chipped beef white gravy and Low Country pork sausage gravy.

The other side of the menu offers about nine “classic combo” dishes ($8-$21), like TV Dinner (turkey meatloaf and crispy smashed potato with mushroom gravy), The Lone Ranger (chicken fried steak with pickled jalapeno, fried egg and Texas white gravy), and The Samuel (pork schnitzel with pickled egg and Grandpa’s Welsh beer and cheddar gravy). Various burgers and sandwiches ($11.95-$14.95) and a few veggie sides round out the offerings.

I built my own dish: pork schnitzel, crispy smashed potato, chow chow relish and applewood smoked bacon, topped with turducken gravy (hard to pass that one up), a brown gravy made from turkey, duck and chicken stocks.

I was the only customer at the start of lunch service that day, and so my meal, which came to $22.70 before tax and tip, arrived in under 10 minutes, delivered by chef-owner Mark Segal. I’d read that Segal – who moved Gravy to Maine from Somersworth, New Hampshire, last year – had been a fine-dining chef, and as I tucked into lunch, his training became evident.

A generously portioned pork cutlet was perched atop the crunchy yet fluffy, golden-edged smashed russet. A mound of chow chow topped the schnitzel, along with a scattering of chopped crisp bacon.

The breading-coated pork schnitzel was nicely browned and well seasoned, tender and juicy, while the smashed potato – audibly crisp outside, fluffy inside – brought plenty of textural interest.

The chow chow relish – an all-purpose Southern condiment that traditionally uses bell peppers, onions, cabbage and green tomatoes along with various spices – brought pleasant pickled flavor without being overly assertive or acidic. Rather, Gravy’s chow chow provided a bright top note to the bottom-heavy, meat-focused dish I’d assembled.

But the gravy is indeed the star here. My meal came delightfully smothered in the stuff, no need to ask for a little extra on the side: At Gravy, they know people like me and why I’m there.

Segal reportedly simmers his three-bird turducken stock for about 12 hours, then thickens the liquid with a flour and butter roux. The result is a velvety smooth, lusciously rich and deep-tasting gravy, an absolute umami bomb that delivers meaty, savory flavor to everything it’s draped over.

I ordered a little conservatively, just dipping my toes to test the waters, but still the portions were sizable enough that I took half my meal home to enjoy later.

The next time I visit Gravy, though, no messing around: I’ll try another build-your-own combo, but I’m also going to order one of their gravy flights (choose three, $9.50) served with french fries for dipping, or maybe bypassing, in my case. At last, a place where I can drink gravy in peace.

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