First taste: Scorpio's

You can score a booth, a regular old table or a seat for one in full view of the barkeep at Scorpio's. (Credit: Alex Biese)

Scorpio's is called a steakhouse, but its menu reads more like a modern-day, dressed-up neighborhood joint, grouped as it is in categories such as quesadillas, fajitas, salads, sandwiches (emphasis: burgers, paninis, wraps), grilled entrees (chicken, pork) and a list of seafood dishes actually exceeding that for steaks by a nose. This is fine, perfectly fine, for the gang assembling near-nightly at the newcomer to Jackson, where folks long have complained that restaurants are in short supply.

Sitting at north end of the bustling Jackson Crossing shopping center, Scorpio's decks itself in wood and clubby dark hues: There's a cheery bar at the rear, with tables scattered around, and a small balcony-style area set apart from the larger main and sidecar dining spaces just off the entryway. You can score a booth, a regular old table or a seat for one in full view of the barkeep. If you're a Jacksonite used to traveling across a municipal border to catch a brew and a burger, you've got to be jazzed by the presence of this so-much-under-one-roof spot.

Under the management of David and Alan Broder, Scorpio's has hit a chord. Though nothing here might be considered original, not from the bar-foodesque starters to the familiar-looking desserts, it's pleasing and comfortable fare. Yes, it's served by an awkward, ill-trained crew who might try to set your entree squarely on top of your mostly finished appetizer plate, unless you're willing to play bus-boy yourself and do the clearing, but it's food you're likely to find agreeable, if unchallenging.

Steak and summery wine

Snag a bottle of a very summery white blend of ugni blanc and colombard from Tariquet in the south of France and go with the Scorpio's flow. While you're at it, order up the terrific steak salad, a vigorously seasoned and grilled blast of beef set against a well-balanced backdrop of small potatoes, roasted garlic, dabs of Gorgonzola and mushrooms, with slivers of scallions and tomatoes tossed in the mix. It's a first-rounder for a hungry night, an all-by-itself meal-in-a-bowl on one of those scorchers we're destined to encounter very soon.

It's a much better deal than the watery spinach-artichoke dip, which wavered between being lukewarm and cool and didn't do much to favor its starring ingredients. More care is needed in the kitchen with basics like this vintage dip if diners are to have confidence in what's to come. A notch better is the firecracker shrimp, especially if sweet is your thing: The shellfish are wrapped in bacon and sprinkled with brown sugar, which is sensibly offset by a perky remoulade.

Another option if you're into easy eating are the baby-back ribs smacked with a not-too-sweet, not-too-tart barbecue sauce and served astride my personal favorite flavor of the night, crisp coleslaw swathed in a feisty horseradish dressing. There's a reason ribs and slaw are beloved; some people make it their life's mission to explore why.

The ribs-and-slaw combo did more for me than the pork chops stuffed with portobellos and prosciutto: The chops suffered from dryness and the stuffing from mushiness. A yin-yang entree of skewered bacon-cosseted scallops and chunks of roasted chicken were unevenly cooked and couldn't take full advantage of the plum glaze with its spike of chile. Yet I think the dish has potential: Allow the chile in the glaze to speak a decibel louder and focus-focus-focus when the shellfish and bird are being cooked, and you've got a solid hit.

Those intent on focusing on the steakhouse aspect of Scorprio's would do well to opt for the Texas t-bone, which is simple, straightforward and all about brawny beef. Chicken billed as cooked in Cajun fashion is more about the brown sugar in the spice mix, rather than hotter, snappier seasonings, and it, too, could've used a more careful eye as it did time on the grill. Sure, Scorpio's attitude is all about casual, relaxed and easygoing, but I think its kitchen needs to tighten control over the finished products. Casual is cool; careless isn't.

That struck me as the problem with a pair of desserts we sampled — a past-prime carrot cake billed as "grand" and made in-house, but lacking in freshness and even a touch of originality, and a Bundt-style chocolate cake with oddly crusty chocolate ganache failing the arid cake. Problematic storage? I think so. At least as a contributing factor.

Rough edges aside, Scorpio's does enough right that it passed my straw-poll test: Everyone in my party was willing to give it another shot, be it for a steak salad or ribs-and-slaw or another sip of the Tariquet. There's merit, after all, in likable.

But there's also more to be achieved in terms of professionalizing service and making consistent the technical skills of the kitchen crew.

Let's hope the folks behind the scenes here want to see Scorpio's rising.

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