It’s an understatement to say that our dining experience at Asterisk more than eight years ago (then called Asterisk and Obelisk, the latter word having since been dropped for copyright reasons) was memorable. I can still taste the subtleties of my curry-accented swordfish and feel the warmth of a summer evening, as we sat at one of the outdoor tables, beyond the open doors of this former garage.

On a recent winter night, those large doors were tightly shut, and the reminders of Asterix’s previous incarnation remained primarily in the high ceiling and the cinder-block walls, painted a deep Provence red. The wide open space is made intimate with two L-shaped banquettes liberally stacked with pillows; candle-lit lamps on the white-linened (and bistro-papered) tables; large and small mirrors on one outer wall; and a lively Lautrec-inspired mural above the bar on the opposite wall.

From its name and its décor to the menu, owner and executive chef John Bach-Sorenson, a Danish native, has always given Asterisk a French flair, just as he has done at Asterisk’s sister enterprise, the bakery Boulangerie, a few blocks away. French elements persist in the current menu, with escargots among the appetizers; raw bar sampler plates titled "petite Asterisk" and "Le Asterisk Grand"; and sole meuniére, steak au poivre, and a Newport bouillabaisse among the entrées. But there are also shrimp spring rolls, tempura tuna rolls, veal scallopini, and ravioli.

It’s clear from the raw bar blackboard postings, and the five salads on the regular menu (including one with asparagus, potato, and hard-boiled egg), that Asterisk emphasizes fresh ingredients. We tried to choose suitable items, including my spinach salad (a special that night, $12), with roasted beets and goat cheese, under a toasted walnut dressing. Bill was leaning toward the "sauté of shrimp" ($9), even though our very helpful waiter relayed that these shrimp had come from Asia and had therefore been frozen.

Nonetheless, Bill liked the presentation of eight grilled shrimp in chili oil, with slices of lime to tickle the flavors, slices of jalapeno to turn up the heat, and slices of avocado to turn it down. His first bites had him rating the flavor of the shrimp themselves a seven out of 10, but he gradually moved that down to a three. We must be getting ridiculously picky, after having local shrimp in Key West and in Maine. I relished the dressing on the baby spinach and beets, and the creamy goat cheese on crostini that topped it.

For entrées, we picked the seared tuna ($24) for Bill, and the bouillabaisse for me ($28). I was paying attention to the mussels, scallops, oysters, clams, fish, and potatoes in this seafood stew, and forgot that the unapproved (by me) shrimp were also an ingredient. There was still a nice blend of fresh herbs (thyme and parsley), red bliss potatoes, scallions, and the seafood, in a broth that could be augmented with grated Gruyere, croutons, or a spoonful of rouille (which turned out to be more like an aioli, a fresh-made mayonnaise, than the bread crumb mixture that the waiter suggested would thicken the soup).

Meanwhile, there were murmurs of enjoyment on Bill’s side of the table. Though the tuna was not what either of us expected from its description as "seared, with a sesame glaze," it was as rare as Bill likes it and he was pleased. It came with a thin tempura batter, and I pondered how tempura could be "seared"? And where was the "sesame glaze"? The "noodle cake" in the menu descriptions turned out to be noodles with stir-fried cabbage and onions — tasty, but not as promised.

The dessert menu beckoned next, and our waiter added to it with three specials. His description of a citrus and chocolate tart sent Bill into sighs of anticipation. That fudgy confection ($8), with a hint of orange, atop shortbread and surrounded by nuggets of fresh fruit, met his expectations.

My sugarplum dreams landed on a house-made vanilla ice cream, studded with golden raisins, dark chocolate chips, cherries and slivers of a pistachio nut cream ($9). A large portion arrived, garnished with fresh fruit and whipped cream, but I wasn’t thrilled about what seemed to be maraschino cherries instead of black ones. More significantly, the ice cream was not smooth, as if it had been refrozen. I probably should have realized that house-made didn’t mean house-churned but rather ice cream mixed in-house with additions, but it was disappointing nevertheless.

One last issue speaks to our own inattentiveness. Bill ordered a glass of white wine, a Pouilly-Fuisse Bouchard, marked with an asterisk on our tab for a good reason — it was $15.50 for a single glass! Per-glass prices were not listed on the wine list, and we should have asked, but this was a jaw-dropper.

Let’s just say that this visit to Asterisk was memorable, but for quite different reasons. The missteps from the kitchen are hard to explain, but a diner should be able to expect what is printed on the menu or related by the waiter — and even more so, at these prices.