FORT WORTH – In every aspect, Lambert's epitomizes a model Cowtown restaurant.

MICHAEL AINSWORTH/DMN

Be sure to save room for blackberry cobbler.

Which isn't to say that this joint project of Lou Lambert and Grady Spears, two chefs with deep roots in Fort Worth's dining scene, plays to clichés. Its food, service and atmosphere all draw from a melding of the funky and the urbane, which reflect the town with sincerity and affection.

The room into which you enter the restaurant is dark, an homage, perhaps, to the weakly lighted ambience of barbecue legend Angelo's just down the street.

Look for the bar, handsomely lined with wood, in the back, but don't expect a frothy inventory of cocktail creations: The hooch is listed by type and brand. It's the kind of place that nudges you toward Jim Beam on the rocks. (Though, for a place with "steaks, seafood and whiskey" as its subhead, the 4-month-old restaurant needs to beef up its bourbon selection. I'm told the new general manager is working on it.)

A short stage, with an old-fashioned-looking theater curtain for a grand backdrop, anchors one end of the main dining area. On weekends, serious-faced musicians often perform traditional jazz that, even if you have a table close to them, is mercifully comfortable on the eardrums.

At the other end of the room hangs a large, evocatively tarnished mirror that could have once hung in a saloon. And look up: There's a round rack suspended from the ceiling off of which a ragtag bunch of saddles dangles in midair. It's picturesque and tongue-in-cheek enough to pass for an art installation at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth.

The service can be as disarming as the decor.

"Oh, the New York strip, for sure," says our server, Amber, when we ask for her steak recommendations. Then she casually tosses off why: "It's my favorite because it's the cut of meat from between the ribs and the sirloin, so it has, you know, a luxurious texture and a more desirable amount of marbling than the rib eye or the tenderloin also on the menu."

Well, dang. That's the kind of bovine anatomy lesson one usually hears only in an upscale steakhouse. The casual uniforms (jeans, white shirts, highly styled Western-themed belts) downplay the professionalism of the service staff, which exhibited warmth and intelligence on both review visits.

This is technically the second Lambert's, but it departs in many ways from the original in Austin that bills itself as specializing in "fancy barbecue." This outpost sports more ambitiously upscale fare, devised largely by Mr. Lambert and the restaurant's executive chef, Justin Haverkorn, who has also worked in the local kitchens of Lanny's, Lonesome Dove and Duce.

Mr. Lambert did lug a few ideas up from Austin, though, such as his signature appetizer of achiote-seared chickpeas. Tell me if this isn't the most enterprising makeover of canned garbanzos you've ever heard: First, the beans are roasted in the oven, then sautéed with olive oil infused with achiote paste and chile powder, and finally combined with goat cheese, caramelized onion, roasted tomato and a bit of arugula and presented with grilled pita bread. This potent nibbler certainly readies the palate for the intrepid flavors ahead.

The chefs are still wisely tweaking the menu, lightening the dishes for warmer weather and weeding out the less successful concoctions. Strong case in point: A quail chile relleno tried during my first meal raised questioning eyebrows. The bird was bound in batter with jack cheese and what seemed more like poblano chile pieces than an actual whole pepper. Worse, the quail meat was, without warning, served still on the bone. Crunch. Ouch.

What replaced it dazzles in comparison: bacon-wrapped whole quail filled with chorizo stuffing and surrounded with fig chutney. It's like a surrealist's vision of Thanksgiving poultry, smaller in size but bigger and more profound on the taste buds. And, to leap ahead, if you're grooving on the theme of Thanksgiving around the Fourth of July, finish the meal with the maple bread pudding scented with pumpkin pie spices and crowned with a healthy mound of fresh whipped cream.

Grilled and smoked proteins dominate the entree category, and they deliver with gusto. We ignored Amber's knowledgeable counsel on steak to instead investigate the brown sugar crust advertised on the 14-ounce rib eye. Turns out there's Dijon mustard in the mix as well, which tempers the sugar's sweetness but also highlights its molasses complexity.

Lamb chops lack an illuminating description, but don't disregard these grilled babies. Gently herbaceous from their marinade and served with jalapeño-mint jelly flaunting a haunting vegetal note, the chops and their flavors are simple, direct and memorable.

The kitchen knows how to utilize a smoker judiciously, so the meats don't taste like wood chips. Smoked prime rib barely hints of the campfire, and the same delicate smoking doesn't compete with the Oaxacan chocolate rub on hormone-free chicken.

For something completely in the other direction, try romesco-crusted sea bass in a citrus beurre blanc with herbed rice pilaf, rapini and a drizzle of basil oil. All those frenetic-sounding parts come together in a way that's actually quite unfussy.

The sea bass is among a handful of entrees that come with substantial accompaniments: Most arrive with what the restaurant calls "edible garnishes" (a dollop of avocado salsa for the smoked chicken, the jelly for the lamb chops). A la carte main courses need to be augmented by steakhouse-style sides, caloric heavy-hitters such as ricotta-creamed spinach, mac and cheese and cauliflower gratin. I'm afraid to report they're all delicious.

Avoid the red chile enchiladas, however: The sauce is harsh with chile powder.

A few other misfires keep this place hovering right below the four-star mark: Pasta Arrabiata, tossed with lobster, shrimp and scallops in a spicy tomato sauce, comes off like a quick meal one could easily whip up at home. The charcuterie platter needs to be given more consideration, or renamed altogether: Cured meats take a back seat to cheeses and garnishes. And, though popular, the wild boar ribs were more fetching in their stacked appearance than in anything else. I found their plum barbecue sauce too sweet.

Save the sweet for dessert. Beyond the bread pudding, there's voluminous coconut cream pie and blackberry cobbler with a cakey topping. Both are homey yet swank, like this restaurant and the city from which it takes inspiration.

Lambert's

{star}{star}{star} (very good)

Food {star}{star}{star}

Service {star}{star}{star}{star}

Atmosphere {star}{star}{star}

Price: $$$ (starters and salads $6 to $12, entrees $18 to $30, desserts $6 to $7)

Address: 2731 White Settlement Road,

Fort Worth

Phone: 817-882-1161

Web site: www.lambertsfortworth.com

Hours: Lunch Monday-Saturday 11 a.m. to

2 p.m.; dinner Monday-Thursday 5 to 10 p.m., Friday-Saturday 5 to 11 p.m.; Sunday brunch 11 a.m-3 p.m.

Credit cards: All major

Wheelchair accessible: Yes

Smoking area: Patio

Alcohol: Full bar