The South Park Grill epitomizes the meaning of “neighborhood restaurant”. It is a tucked-away dining spot located at the gateway of a community better known for its old restored houses and tree-lined streets than the culinary riches we encountered here.

Card-carrying residents of South Park know it well. But for those who forage regularly along the neon-lit pathways of Hillcrest or downtown, the elusive restaurant offers a refreshing low-key ambience that resembles a town hall meeting of mellow folk soaking up some fine food and jazzy entertainment.

With a virgin visitor to South Park in tow, we were greeted warmly and seated at one of the coveted tables along the front windows straddling Fern Street. A trio of laid-back musicians called Brothers John started tuning their instruments from a small corner stage that appears more fitting for poetry readings than soft jazz. But as a gaggle of martini-sipping patrons gathered across the way at the polished wood bar, the idea of this becoming a Bohemian hangout was quickly dispelled.

The food offerings also reflect that hard-to-strike balance of sophistication and casualness. For instance, one page of the menu lists many types of burgers – half-pound, quarter pound, veggie, turkey, etc. On another you’ll find several gourmet entrees such as Sesame Crusted Ahi and Stuffed Shrimp Florentine. And the appetizer selection leapfrogs from Buffalo Chicken Wings and Cheese Sticks to Steamed Mussels and a terrific Roasted Red Pepper Humus plate that we thoroughly enjoyed. It’s a culinary mishmash geared expressly for the eclectic tastes of South Park’s inhabitants.

From the limited wine list, my oenophile dinner companion bubbled over a glass of frigid Sparkling Prosecco, a Venetian white that offers more depth of flavor after it warms to room temperature. And I made a new desirable discovery in the red wine category with a generous pour of Australian Black Wing Shiraz, which held up well to its described “smooth and fruity finish.”

Our beginner courses included some plump and fluffy Crab Cakes accented with cayenne remoulade, plus a bowl of super-flavorful Cream of Cauliflower soup that was so thick and frothy it almost held a spoon upright when my dinner companion put it to the test.

Our entrees were equally rich and luscious – a clue to Chef Eric Wilburn’s training in French cuisine. My companion’s blackened Grilled Pacific Salmon, for example, was tastefully appointed with a velvety buerre blanc sauce that introduced yet more cream to the tongue. But my friend took pause over whether the tender filet was indeed blackened in a traditional Cajun iron skillet or simply seared in standard cookware. Either way, it yielded a good peppery flavor that competed nicely with the accompanying fingerling potatoes drizzled in pesto and mound of sautéed spinach hiding underneath.

I took a homier route by choosing a massive slice of Mom’s Meatloaf doused in a tangy liquid that fell somewhere between barbecue sauce and brown gravy. While leftovers aren’t my thing, I hauled home half the portion and some remaining garlic mashed potatoes, then polished it all off with glee the following day.

The chef’s Crème Brulee topped with berries was also a winner. The same could be said for our slightly lighter option of berries topped with fresh whipped cream. But why bother counting saturated fats when the food mixes this pleasantly with the atmosphere?

Meal prices at South Park Grill are a notch lower compared to those popular restaurants in other zip codes that pass on their inflated rents to the customer. And if you mosey in between 5:00 and 6:00 p.m., the Grill’s “twilight menu” offers select entrees for an average of only $10 apiece. Just be sure to leave that haughty fine-dining attitude behind, and nobody will peg you as a South Park invader.