On the west side of Harlem, on a quiet residential street, there’s an American Legion hall on the ground floor of a brownstone. On Sunday nights they have live jazz and are open to the public. Neighborhood folks and in-the-know music fans pack the little space, and the ones who arrive early enough to get a table can be seen tucking into plates of fried chicken, codfish cakes, pigs’ feet, and other soul food delights. It’s a near-perfect mix of setting, flavor, and sound.

This review is not about that place.

But I mention the American Legion hall because it demonstrates how Harlem, jazz, and African-American cooking can combine into a heady mix. That’s clearly the idea behind the Creole Jazz and Supper Club, a restaurant and performance space that recently opened on the corner of Third Avenue and East 118th Street.

It’s a solid enough concept. Creole cooking, of course, hails from New Orleans, the very cradle of jazz. In fact, New York City’s best Creole restaurant is actually called Cooking with Jazz (although it’s in Whitestone, Queens, which will never be mistaken for either Harlem or New Orleans). And indeed, when you walk into Creole Jazz and Supper Club and hear that bebop playing on the sound system – or from the live bands that take over later in the evening – it sounds like the promise of a rich, spicy Louisiana meal.

But not all the omens here are good ones. When chef Ryan Walter, who hails from New Orleans, visited our table one evening, my friend Matt asked him if he’d eaten at Mosca’s. I was mildly embarrassed, because Mosca’s is an ancient Louisiana standby, described in one travel guide as “the most famous Creole roadhouse in America.” Asking a New Orleans chef if he’s eaten there is like asking a jazz fan, “Have you heard of this Miles Davis guy?” So imagine my surprise when Mr. Walter said he’d never heard of Mosca’s. Then he added, “I haven’t been down in Louisiana for a few years, so I’m not up on all those new places.” Uh, right. As Mr. Walter walked back to the kitchen, Matt looked at me and said, “Well, that doesn’t bode well.”

If the harbingers are mixed, so is the food. On the plus side, Mr. Ryan certainly passes the first test of any Creole chef, which is gumbo ($8). His version is a thick, muddy brew studded with shrimp and andouille sausage. It starts off tasting savory and then has a slow, smoldering after burn of spiciness. I’ve had better gumbo, but only in New Orleans.

The other standout appetizer is the shrimp Napoleon ($11), a layered stack of blackened shrimp and fried tomato slices, topped with a mix of mushrooms, bell peppers, and goat cheese. It’s as tasty as it is clever. You could simply order this and the gumbo and walk out very satisfied.

Other starters are less successful, however. Coconut shrimp ($11), served with a honey/ginger sauce that’s long on honey and short on ginger, is pedestrian. And fried calamari is overbreaded, overfried, and rubbery.

The best entrees are the most straightforward ones. A generous slab of pecan-coated fried catfish ($19), topped with a praline butter sauce, is excellent. So are the crabcakes ($20), two nice-sized pucks with an agreeable meat-to-breading ratio, served with lemony spinach and hollandaise sauce.

The entree listing also includes some intriguing ideas that look a lot better than they taste. Chief among these is the Cajun roasted duck and sausage ($21), a beautifully arranged plate of marinated duck breast and anduille slices with a bourbon/pecan glaze. It looks good enough to photograph – and unfortunately, that’s a better option than eating it, because the duck and sausage are both badly overcooked and dry.

Grilled shrimp skewered on a sprig of rosemary ($20) is another interesting, attractive idea undermined by overcooking. And removing the shrimp from the rosemary turns out to be an exercise in frustration.

Things are redeemed somewhat at dessert, thanks in part to an excellent sweet potato bread pudding ($5). And the connections between the South and New York come full circle with the fine red velvet cake ($5). Usually associated with Southern culture, this cake actually debuted at Manhattan’s Waldorf Astoria hotel in the 1940s or ’50s. Creole Jazz’s version is suitably smooth and crimson (the former attribute comes from cocoa, the latter from food coloring), with a delicious white cream frosting.

The room, with lots of exposed brick and draped fabric, is comfortable, and the staff is extremely friendly, if sometimes a bit disorganized. Live music is featured on Wednesday through Saturday, usually starting around 9 p.m., with no cover charge. Be careful about Tuesday, which is defined by two of the scariest words in the English language: Comedy Night.

It’s worth noting, incidentally, that Creole Jazz is part of a wave of new restaurants in Harlem. Ricardo Steakhouse, a high-end Latino protein palace, recently opened on Second Avenue and 110th Street, and Dinosaur Bar-B-Q is a hit over on 12th Avenue and 131st Street. It’s an encouraging trend. But for now, when I want to combine uptown food and music, I’ll stick to the American Legion hall. And I’m already planning my next visit to Mosca’s.

Creole Jazz and Supper Club, 2167 Third Ave., 212-876-8838.