Dining at Macabi Steakhouse is a little like online dating. The first time, you're thrilled with the possibilities, but after a few dates you realize everybody has their issues.

The place looks the part of a modern steak house with polished hardwood floors, wine-themed oil paintings, cushy leather banquettes and a stunning wall of wine racks glistening in dramatic lighting that murmur rather than shout sophistication.

And somehow, after nearly a decade as a cigar bar, it doesn't smell a bit smoky. Though a bit green, the dinner staff is competent, enthusiastic and at least somewhat knowledgeable.

The à la carte menu offers steak house standards as well as more creative choices like a zesty Bloody Mary shrimp cocktail and tasty tempura oysters.

The main attraction is the meat, USDA Prime dry-aged selections including a buttery filet mignon, New York strip and porterhouse plus delectable lamb chops and organic pork chops. Despite some snags, the beef is competently handled and nearly worth the hefty price tags.

A fine, bone-in rib-eye with a lush pink center and a thick, charred hide was the best we sampled. It was delicately marbled and expertly seared with a wallop of good salt and pepper. Also recommendable: the big, fat, juicy burger topped with all the right crispy fixings.

Chicken paillard, two huge, pounded breast portions, is tasty enough, but overwhelmed by heavy breading. A bright mix of snappy arugula with diced tomato and Parmesan shavings brightens it up some.

A side of gargantuan truffle fries -- really whole Idaho potatoes quartered lengthwise -- was decadent in all its oily glory. And though so-called Tuscan beans were mushy, they make a hearty side with ultra smoky pancetta and sautéed escarole.

A subsequent lunch at Macabi was like an episode of The Three Stooges. A team of bumbling waiters and a truly rude waitress couldn't take an order, deliver a dish or process a credit card without a 10- to 15-minute delay. Excuses outweighed apologies at least three to one.

Some of the dishes weren't up to snuff, either. A Caesar salad -- served chopped in the day and, inexplicably, as a wedge at night -- had not a shred of real cheese and tasted suspiciously of bottled dressing. No garlic, no croutons, no oomph.

What might have been an exceptional crab cake with large hunks of blue crab meat and a perky rémoulade sauce seemed to have taken a beating under a heat lamp while our wait staff figured out where it went.

A generic plank of salmon -- allegedly wild but remarkably gray-pink -- had all the pizazz of a hotel-banquet entree. Someone in the kitchen knows what he is doing but also has a heavy hand with the salt shaker. Gallons of water could not have slaked the thirst created by just a few bites of the above-mentioned beans. Don't go for the house pitcher, though; the waitress said it was filtered, but it tasted like pool water.

Stick to the wines. The selection is tight but stacked with enough competent, mostly California wines (Nickel & Nickel, Iron Horse, Mount Veeder) as well as some fine French, Italian and South American labels to keep connoisseurs content.

The markups can be obnoxious, though, and several of the bottles we requested on our last visit were not available. By-the-glass prices range from $9 and $15, but the pours, in large industrial goblets, are generous. An old reliable, La Crema Pinot Noir with its spicy bite, worked for us.

For dessert, the Death by Chocolate -- a creamy flourless tart with a side of dark, rich ice cream -- will satisfy but not slay chocolate fans.

I wish this cheapskate wouldn't charge $3 for unnecessary pats of flavored butter on the great steaks and that its wine program and service staff would get their act together. It might be inconsistent, but, hey, I'm optimistic. There is enough promise in this ambitious neighborhood meat emporium to warrant another date.