This weekend, Nosher and I accompanied our friend Misha on a very short trip down the block to pay a long-delayed visit to Hell’s Kitchen– the restaurant, not the newly happening Manhattan district where we live. In a normal week, we walk past its glass-fronted storefront on Ninth Avenue at least a dozen times, but we had not yet gone inside because of the restaurant’s notoriously long wait times for a walk-in table and it just seemed a little crazy to make a reservation for a place that you can practically see out your bedroom window. At the same time, friends of mine had expressed surprise that I live in the neighborhood but hadn’t yet been in for a meal, so when the chance appeared in the form of a game Misha, we all thought it was time to rectify the situation. It was the perfect plan.

True to form, we did in fact did have to put in our name with the host (and yes, for those who plan ahead, they also take reservations), and then lingered outside, talking in the unseasonably warm weather for about ten minutes before we were ushered into a round and very dark banquette at the back of the dining room.

Hell’s Kitchen advertises its culinary approach as modern ‘Mexican Fusion,’ and the décor reflects this in a quirky, Latin rhythm in the colorful, comfortable seating, flickering candles, and the chandeliers constructed from tiers of upturned wine bottles. Along the side of the room runs a busy bar serving forth margaritas, caipirinhas, cosmopolitans, and a few good selections of draft beer. I found the menu very appealing: lamb, sirloin, and a ‘seven-chile’ pork chop headlined the entrees, many with indications (like those chiles) that the restaurant’s name might have something to do with the heat of the food as well. While we looked through the menu, we munched on the complimentary cornmeal bread and its sidekick: a yummy black bean dipping sauce.

For an appetizer, I ordered the lobster fritters with tamatillo corn salsa and Serrano mayonnaise ($10). Unfortunately, this sounded much better on the menu than on the plate, as the fritters came out over-salted and almost burned. Their texture and temperature were pleasing enough, but the confusion of spices and overfried and acrid onions was so overpowering it drowned out the lobster. Misha and Nosher’s butternut squash soup (one of the night’s specials) was no improvement. Nosher described his soup as too sweet, almost as if sugar had been added to the squash puree and apple chunks in the bowl. Worse, a couple of greasy fried squash blossoms swam limply on the surface, adding little to the soup except increased difficulty in trying to eat it.

Our main courses were a little better, especially Nosher’s ancho-crusted tuna ($19), which came with an excellent sweet yucca cake that added to the dish immeasurably. The tuna was well-prepared, not over- or under-cooked, and even more spicy than you would expect a dish like this would be. The not-insignificant amount of bland spinach sitting under the tuna might have been a poor choice as an accompaniment, but if Nosher’s clean plate was any indication, he seemed to like it nonetheless.

Misha’s wild mushroom roll ($8, an appetizer ordered as an entrée – Misha claims he noshed earlier in the evening and wasn’t as hungry) was also quite good, at least my forkful was. Artfully presented, the dish came with a hot, chipotle pepper sauce that worked well with the mushrooms and the crispy tortilla.

My salmon entrée (grilled wild salmon with sweet corn pudding, baked vegetable cake and salsa roja ($21)) was not as good. I don’t usually order salmon in restaurants because I associate salmon with business lunches, where I always order an easy-to-eat fish in order to focus on the conversation and not the food, but I think I was seduced by the description of the sweet corn pudding, which was indeed sweet and ended up being the best thing on the plate. It was so good, in fact, I mostly picked around the overly dry and almost tasteless fish and filled up on the corn pudding and vegetable cake.

We didn’t stay for dessert; we were getting tired and, frankly, the service was a little terse and snappy for us to stick around as the night wore on and the tables slowly emptied. I really wanted to like Hell’s Kitchen just as I do its eponymous neighborhood– and to be fair, the food is unusual and somewhat adventurous. But if you’re going to spend between $19 and $23 per entrée in New York, there are many more consistent options not far away.

Hell’s Kitchen, 679 Ninth Avenue (at 47th Street), 212-977-1588