What's in a name? If you go to Chicago's lively Soul Kitchen expecting classic "soul food" -- barbeque and greens and biscuits -- you'll be in for a surprise. The restaurant was named, co-owner Pam Scariano says, for The Door's song. "We wanted to decide what kind of food would go with that name." "Soul" at Soul Kitchen means two things: soul music, which is played (along with some disco) throughout the evenings, and bold food. "Soul means lots of flavor to the chefs," says Scariano. Monique King, one of Soul Kitchen's two chefs, puts it this way: Soul Kitchen offers "food that's good for the soul as opposed to food that has its roots in the American Black south."

Not that some Southern influences don't dominate the menu: the cuisine of New Orleans anchors Soul Kitchen's offerings, but the chefs don't feel at all restricted. The restaurant made a name for itself in its previous location on West Chicago Avenue; when Soul Kitchen moved to Wicker Park, one of Chicago's most ostentatiously hip neighborhoods, Scariano wanted to be sure nothing would be lost. In the new space Soul Kitchen is able to have an oyster bar, a classic New Orleans element. In the old place, Soul Kitchen didn't even have an industrial refrigerator; in Wicker Park, with plenty of room, reliable electricity and many more appliances, the chefs can fully exercise their imaginations. "Here they can be more creative," Scariano says.

Both King and her fellow chef, Michael Clark, hail most recently from California. King worked at L.A.'s City, whose chef took, in King's words, a "multi-ethnic, world approach to cuisine." Clark worked for seven years in San Francisco as the chef of an upscale Southern-style restaurant. Soul Kitchen's menu reflects this combination of backgrounds. The Southern elements of the cuisine are transformed by Asian, Caribbean, and Mexican inflections.

King takes care to distinguish Soul Kitchen's culinary ethos from one of the more recent rages in American cuisine, fusion. "Our menu is not necessarily fusion -- as in two cuisines on one plate -- but rather eclectic," she says. "We preserve the integrity of a culture on one plate." Occasionally the chefs offer something that would, in fact, come under the label "fusion": for example, the duck-and-chile eggrolls. Of this exquisite appetizer, King says that originally "we did them as quesadillas -- but we didn't want to serve them as quesadillas; the presentation wasn't so elegant." So the chefs experimented and decided to use egg-roll wrappers to mold and contain the contents. "Everything about it is a Mexican dish except the egg-roll wrappers. It translates the same."

As a restaurant driven by its chefs' inventive passions, Soul Kitchen changes its menu every three weeks or so. Scariano lists the pecan-coated catfish, the shrimp and grits, and the sauteed oysters as among diners' current favorites. The catfish is the only dish that remains from the original menu. King says, "We have a lot of repeat customers and we just want to keep ourselves excited." For her, "it's about having passion for what you're doing."

If Soul Kitchen's cuisine exemplifies an experimental eclecticism tempered by a commitment to Southern roots and elevated cooking, the ambiance suggests a commitment to retro chic. Just as The Doors inspired Soul Kitchen's name, the 70's inspires its decor and mood. Leopard-print cloths cover the tables and the occasional column in the restaurant; even the wine list -- eclectic and well-chosen -- comes clad in a leopard-skin sheath. Soul Kitchen serves its nostalgia straight: even though the BeeGees are playing when you come in from the street, you will not see anyone camping it up or breaking into the hustle. Small handmade, glass-beaded lamps hang from the pressed-tin ceiling; you can buy one if you like for around $25. The expert lighting bathes diners in an intimate glow. Rest assured that at Soul Kitchen you are in the land of hip not kitsch.

In design as well as cuisine Soul Kitchen is something of a trend-setter. Pam Scariano remarks of the leopard-print motif, unseen in Chicago four years ago, "Now you can get that kind of stuff anywhere." And as for Soul Kitchen's decision to play a swank mix of Al Green, Barry White, and other masters of soul, Scariano observes that other restaurants have followed suit: "They're all playing this music now."

The soul of Soul Kitchen is, of course, the food, as Chef King emphasizes. It's the promise of the food that keeps the extremely diverse clientele coming back, even though, as she says, "The room is a little loud, and the wait can be two hours." "We're doing food that isn't mainstream," she says. "It's not bland. It's not offensive -- but if it says it's spicy, it is." When King sees a sedate 60-year-old couple from Chicago's posh North Shore eating Soul Kitchen's most adventurous offerings, she is pleased: "That's our success." As she concludes, "That's our philosophy: elevated cuisine that's not alienating." From the large crowds packing the place on a Friday night, one concludes that this philosophy has found a horde of enthusiastic disciples.