The Triangle's most ambitious steakhouse

As you would expect after taking in JK's upscale steakhouse look -- framed black-and-white rodeo photos on sage green walls and Wild West horses-and-sunset paintings -- steaks are afforded a place of honor on the menu.

But J.K. Norfleet and Rob Moore, who opened JK's in July in the new North Hills complex, don't want you to think of their restaurant as "just a steakhouse." That's why the partners, who had originally billed the restaurant as JK's Steakhouse, dropped the second half of the name before it opened. And it's why they hired C.I.A.-trained chef Chip Smith to develop a menu whose alternatives to traditional steakhouse fare are every bit as ambitious and rewarding as the beefeater offering.

By and large, Smith succeeds. Those in search of an alternative to shrimp cocktail will be well-served with a first course offering of pan-seared shrimp with house-made gnocchi and brown butter. Those suffering from Caesar salad burnout should find a cure in a salad of roasted beets with goat cheese and pistachios. Oysters Norfleet, baked under a carpet of basil-accented spinach pesto, are a delightful alternative to the Rockefeller routine.

Best of all, though, is chef Smith's distinctive take on sweetbreads. Formed into cakes that are held together with nothing but a whisper of Dijon mustard and a sprinkle of bread crumbs, and sauteed to a golden-crusted turn, these are the landlubber's emphatic answer to crab cakes.

On the other hand, a listing described as "flounder, crispy seared with gaufrette potatoes" fails to live up to its promise. The lattice-cut potato chips are a delicate wonder, but the star attraction turns out to be filet fingers overcooked to the point that their Panko crust is a too-dark brown.

The only other disappointment I encountered over the course of two visits was an entree offering of rotisserie-roasted free-range chicken whose breast bordered on too dry and whose Eastern Carolina pepper sauce was inexplicably and distractingly sweet.

There's nothing to fault, however, with Outer Banks yellowfin tuna. Seared precisely to the requested medium rare and set atop a savory stew of buttery white beans, mussels and Virginia country ham, this dish more than lives up to its billing.

Still, if I could dine at JK's 10 times, I'd order a steak nine of them. The menu boasts that JK's steaks are "from a small purveyor in Omaha, Nebraska, well known among a small number of white tablecloth restaurants for USDA prime and premium choice cuts." It further informs you that JK's steaks are aged and cut in house and grilled over 1,000-degree coals.

I'd work my way through the list of seven cuts, from the 8-ounce petite filet to the 24-ounce porterhouse. Every time the bone-in tenderloin appeared as the chef's featured filet, I'd order it again. Nearly two inches thick and truly deserving of the fork-tender cliche, this steak somehow manages to deliver both the iron-rich suppleness of a filet and the deep, beefy savor of a well-marbled New York strip.

In short, if JK's isn't a steakhouse, it serves the best beef you'll ever eat in a restaurant that isn't a steakhouse. And if it is, it still ranks among the best.

Whether you prefer to think of JK's as a steakhouse or a more broadly defined gourmet restaurant, the well-trained wait staff and the well-chosen wine list are both up to the task.

Desserts, on the other hand, lean decidedly to the gourmet. Pastry chef Kathy Edwards, who comes to JK's from Nana's in Durham, tempts you with offerings ranging from a textbook chocolate pot de creme to a stellar dacquoise filled with a sorbet of calamansi, an exotic citrus fruit whose flavor is a cross between lemon and mandarin orange.

After such a delightful conclusion to a thoroughly rewarding meal, you'll be inclined to agree that the owners can call their restaurant anything they like.