The Oceanaire

A number of more familiar dishes were also done well, such as the bacon-infused creamy chowder and the crabcake appetizer filled with sweet lump meat (at lunch, though, the delicate cake was squished by a stiff sandwich roll). The deftly fried calamari streaked with a smoky ancho chile aioli were addictive. A flatiron steak, a friendly nod to carnivores, was perfectly grilled and juicy.

All of the fish can be simply grilled or blackened (a preparation I'd rarely recommend). But the purist approach has risks, as every flaw is exposed. And our greatest disappointment came from a goof on that most elemental of fish-house tasks - the lobster.

The kitchen had only one puny 1.5-pounder left, a shockingly short supply for a restaurant this grand. Even more disappointing was how it was presented: steamed and removed from the shell after we'd specifically requested it broiled in the shell. It was glaringly unsatisfying. And our sheepish waiter, who seemed as professional and outgoing as every other server I'd encountered here, was genuinely concerned with the mistake, which he conceded was his.

But what gesture did he offer for this $43 botch? A complimentary bread pudding that runs $6.95.

It was a de-bell-able offense, the kind of insult that loses customers forever. And it also threatened to dash the many considerable qualities that Oceanaire had already displayed against the rocks of an unexpectedly awkward retro moment: Are we going to relive the demise of yet another classic fish house? Or was the lobster just an unsavory blip on an otherwise promising cruise to the revival of its glory days?