We like lively places, but Belly Timber is loud enough to be uncomfortable. Sure, the building looks like a beautiful Victorian house from the outside, but it seems that every inch of space inside has been used to maximize seating. It’s nearly impossible not to be involved in your neighbors’ conversations. Drop a morsel of food and you’ll be fishing it out of their lap. That being said, the service here does go a long way to soothe some of the cramped feelings. And at brunch, do try to grab a patio seat.

The food is often delicious, but the kitchen can struggle with consistency. It’s the usual downside to a constantly changing menu: the ups are really up and the downs, though less dramatically down, might be somewhat frequent. House-cured “whole hog” charcuterie is not to be missed. Whether the prep is a ham hock hot pot or a crispy fried whole tail (it’s not curly, don’t worry), it comes with homemade pickled veggies and three kinds of mustard. Escargots in bone-marrow butter should be divinely rich, but instead take a back seat to a bland chickpea sauce and yellow beets that are lively but curiously paired. Crab cakes have come plump and loaded with lump crabmeat, with an excellent crispness on the outside.

Main dishes are as terse as the selection of small plates, and are equally unpredictable. A pork shoulder chop is superbly cooked and paired with sweet peaches—or apples, when in season—and a savory green like bok choy. However, successful simplicity goes out the window in a flatiron steak, which is often underseasoned and propped up only by an aggressive sauce. French fries are sometimes crisp and sometimes soggy, with a smoky flavor that we’d trade for a balance of salt, pepper, and fresh herbs. The horseradish butter, yet another component of this needlessly complex dish, has little left to do.

Regardless of a few missteps, brunch is a worthwhile meal. It makes good work of never-tiresome salmon Benedict (expertly poached eggs) and bacon-banana French toast. Dreamy!

The cocktails are terrific, made with small-batch ryes and vodkas, absinthe, artisanal bitters, and touches like rhubarb, cinnamon, and cayenne pepper. An Old-Fashioned lists, as its final ingredient, “love.” Even when Belly Timber fails, you can taste some of that, at least, in just about every drink and every dish—and even in some of your neighbor’s.