In Key West, they’ve built a festival around it. In many places, they gather to applaud it. And in the west-facing dining rooms at Castle Hill, the servers shimmer in to raise the blinds for better viewing. There must be something Jungian about the way we’re drawn to watch the setting sun, fascinated by the golds and pinks it spreads across low-lying clouds, almost holding our breath at the final moment when that big orange-red sphere sinks below the horizon.

Now I’ll admit that it doesn’t set over open water at Castle Hill (Jamestown and mainland Rhode Island are in the way), but the more-than-180-degree vista of harbor, bay, and the wide Atlantic certainly make up for that. And once the light begins to fade, as you look out from the appropriately named Sunset Room, three lighthouses become visible: Castle Hill, just a short walk from the inn; Beavertail, over on Jamestown; and Point Judith, all the way down that long expanse of land.

Some restaurants might coast on such a view, but not Castle Hill. Its reputation for stellar cuisine and sterling service was quite evident on our recent visit. Though the ocean breeze had picked up by late afternoon, there were still many visitors outside at the patio tables and in the Adirondack chairs on the lawn (there’s a special al fresco menu every weekend afternoon, from 3 p.m. to sunset, that includes plenty of seafood, a bit of beef, and two grilled pizzas).

However, we wanted the fancier menu and the warmer, indoor view. Castle Hill’s guests can choose from four dining rooms, two of which have fireplaces for a romantic glow in the winter. The circular Sunset Room has a kind of harem-tent ceiling treatment: billowy swaths of green and ivory cloth come together at a central point. Table-to-ceiling windows wrap around three-quarters of the room — the other quarter is a wide entryway to the elegant lobby of this historic house, built in 1874 as a summer home for scientist Alexander Agassiz.

Tearing ourselves away from historical referents and natural beauty, we begin to consider the menu, labeled "summer 2004" though it might change soon, as executive chef Casey Riley and chef de cuisine Jonathan Cambra like to fine-tune it seasonally. Riley also puts together a chef’s tasting menu ($68 prix fixe), which includes two appetizers, small portions of two entrees, and a dessert.

We opted for the regular menu. There are many temptations among the "first courses," including scallops with cheddar pudding, grilled shrimp with tomato risotto, and half-shelled Watch Hill oysters. But I’m in a veggie mood and order the spinach-artichoke ravioli ($12) to split with Bill. The kitchen kindly plates it in two portions — a terrific touch. The yin-yang of the earthy spinach and lemony artichoke in the ravioli filling is great. The roasted eggplant, garlic, and tomato ragout is a thick and delicious accent, as is the sweet red pepper butter sauce. And topping the ragout is a bit of what we take to be arugula flowers.

Castle Hill’s wine list recently won it a second Wine Spectator award, and though we ordered by the glass, we were quite pleased with the Chilean cabernet and the Austrian white (Grüner Veltliner).

Bill’s taste buds started spinning when he read the description of wild Columbia River coho salmon, grilled with toasted coriander and lemon ($28), and I might have fought him for it but for the lure of the crepes in a carrot-butter sauce ($26). The salmon was truly "encrusted" with ground coriander seeds that were nicely complemented by the lemongrass-ginger broth on the plate, which also contained ravioli filled with minced Jonah crabmeat and a vegetable combo of sautéed Napa cabbage and sweet peppers. Conversation came to a standstill, as we both savored our entrees, though Bill paused to express his appreciation of the folded fillet, which allowed the inside to stay moist while the outside received a smoky crust from the grill.

My two crepes were wonderful: very thin pancakes with crisp edges filled with roasted autumn vegetables — sweet potato, acorn squash, and carrot, I was told, though there might also have been a bit of turnip — and Old Chatham sheep’s cheese from a farm in Old Chatham, New York. Surrounded by a sunset-colored carrot puree, the crepes were topped by crisp-fried shoestrings of leeks and beets. The attention paid to different textures as well as tastes and colors was much appreciated.

Our affable and helpful waiter, Brian, mentioned the possibility of the raspberry soufflé a little while after we began our entrees, because it’s made to order and requires 20 minutes. We took a break to study the dessert menu, and despite the banana crème brulée, the strawberry-rhubarb cobbler, and the signature chocolate mousse with several chocolate accouterments, we went with the soufflé.

It was a winning decision. Brian showed us how to pour the crème Anglaise into the center of the warm soufflé and to dig to the bottom of the dish to get all three flavors: the raspberries, the chocolate, and the vanilla of the crème. The memory of those flavors stayed with me for days, as did the entire evening at Castle Hill.