For all the chefy poses it strikes on the menu, the execution of dishes isn't precise yet. The scrod in the fish and chips, battered with the hoppy Iron Fist pale ale, was too fragile for my liking (mine arrived a notch underdone) and was missing that thick and shattering shell to support the delicate fish. Chipotle shrimp and elotes sounds like an enticing duo for pizza, except here the lack of a binding sauce — there are dots of avocado corn bechamel and jalapeno aioli — makes it more flatbread than the hearth-baked pie it advertises.