Tonight, the butcher paper is gone from the windows of Cookshop on 10th Avenue and the grill is working overtime to satisfy the curious. And there are a lot of them– Cookshop redefined the concept of ‘long-awaited’ this past year as it sat senescent in West Chelsea, promising either to open ‘this summer,’ ‘in September,’ or more agonizingly, ’soon.’ The newest member of the Five Points family, Cookshop’s menu reflects chef Marc Meyer’s overriding dogma: ingredients should be local (where possible), fresh, wild or organic, and as much akin to what you’d get if you hunted and gathered them yourself. Not a bad place to start– a similar idea has brought widespread and well-deserved attention to the food at both River Cafés. Yet, ingredients are always a starting point and not much more. Good ones ease the transition into fully-realized dishes, but they remain only building blocks. So with the best locally-sourced ingredients and a chic modern glass and wood interior, how could Cookshop possibly go wrong? That’s what we keep asking ourselves after our visit last night– the restaurant’s opening night.

We got our first hint that something might be amiss when we received the wine list– a generous, two-sided array. Most wines seem to hover around $35-45, but there are a few options in the low-mid $20s, as well as many more costly bottles. The problem last night was that nearly half of the wines were marked with an ‘X’, indicating that they were not yet available. Both of our first choices were so marked, and we ended up selecting a Querciabella that we had drunk in the UK– a safe choice, but not what we actually wanted. Clearly, a lot can be forgiven on a first night, but frankly, I would rather have seen a markedly pared-down list of wines that were on hand than be taunted by the bottles I could not select. With our wine, we also opted for one of the ‘Snacks’ listed on the menu– the fried spiced hominy, which we hoped would achieve the same success as the pozole hominy at Zarela’s. Unfortunately, what we were served was tough and very oily (despite the wicking paper underneath) and tasted more of wet BBQ Corn Nuts than anything else. These were also very difficult to eat, as they were too greasy to eat with our fingers and too leathery to eat with a fork, so we left nearly half the small portion uneaten.

Our appetizers were both significantly better. My Montauk squid with lima beans and salsa verde was excellent: it was the best dish of the night, although I didn’t suspect that would be the case at the time. HungryMan and I both cooed over the inventive pairing of the limas with the squid, commenting also that the very subtle use of mint in the salsa verde put this dish over the top into the realm of the truly great.

The Autumn Greens Salad that HungryMan ordered was a patchwork of lettuces, coated generously (but not over-dressed) with a vinaigrette, parmesan cheese, and anchovies. Lots and lots of anchovies. They weren’t visible– my guess is that they were pounded into the dressing– but like a very loud toddler, they demanded complete attention. So much attention that HungryMan insisted that we swap plates. I really adore anchovies and was happy enough to do so, but after a few bites of the salad, I could see why anyone without a real passion for little salted fishes might have a difficult time with this salad: it really ought to have been named ‘Anchovies with Autumn Greens,’ because the focal point was, by default, the fish.

HungryMan was happier with his braised lamb with rosemary, chard, and cippolini onions, but still not ecstatic. The meat was moist and well-cooked, but the seasonings fell flat and distracted more from the meat than they enhanced it. There was also a disc of something unusual in the center of the plate, something that tasted like an errant organ meat, and which we suspect might have been a chicken liver that got lost in the kitchen and found its way onto our plate. Oops.

Better than the lamb, but still not extraordinary was the cod with matchstick-cut apples, butternut squash ribbons, and celery. While the fish itself was juicy and very flaky, the creamy sauce that topped the fillet added nothing to the experience. It was unctuous and not very flavorful. It seemed to be there to add lubrication more than anything else. There was also far too much sweetness to this dish and not enough savory counterbalance to make the whole thing work. Generally, restaurants don’t tend to under-salt their food, but there seems to be a timidity with the salt shaker in the kitchen at Cookshop.

Dessert waited for us back in Hell’s Kitchen, so we skipped the sweets and went right for the coffee, which in truth, was probably one of the evening’s bigger mistakes. After ordering two cappucinos (Amanda Hesser’s injunctions be damned), HungryMan sat watching the staff struggle with the espresso machine for a good 10 minutes, after which we were brought two tarry coffees that were profoundly bitter, burned, and nearly black. They appeared to have only been waved in the general direction of steamed milk and not actually mixed with any. If there is one quick fix that Cookshop can put into action immediately it is to get the coffee situation under control, because as it stands now, it is more than disappointing; it is embarrassing.

Putting that aside, no other part of the meal was actually bad. But at the same time, only one part of the meal– the squid– was very good. Everything else was just adequate, which is fine for a restaurant that charges $10 for a main dish, but Cookshop charges $20-$30 for its entrees. The service was competent and (except for the coffee) seemed more like what you might expect of a restaurant that had been open weeks instead of hours. I only wish that the food had possessed the same maturity, the same sense of potential realized. Perhaps with time Cookshop will blossom and will do right by its fine local ingredients, but on this, its debut evening, it is still more awkward than polished.

Cookshop, 156 10th Avenue (at 20th Street), 212-924-4440