Perhaps it’s the recession. Or maybe a gust of complacency has rumpled the enthusiasm that initially launched twinkling Starlite to become a hip, off-the-beaten-track destination for nighttime libations and seasonal chow.

Starlite’s unique character begins at the threshold, a hexagonal entranceway that delivers you into an eye-nurturing mother ship appointed by ethereal lighting, stone walls and a sunken bar in the center. Conceived by the local architectural firm, Bells & Whistles, it’s a fine rescue job to what was formerly the women’s watering hole, Six Degrees.

But a downshift in service combined with weak food portions have clouded the “starlight” I recall enjoying in past visits. In a recent dinner stop with three companions in tow, a chronically soft-spoken waiter put our ears to the test amid semi-loud rhythms emanating from the sound system. Whether describing the evening’s dinner specials or answering our food questions, he kept his voice stubbornly docile throughout the night, regardless of how many times we cocked our heads and responded with, “Say what?”

Service became more convoluted when two different waitresses with disengaged attitudes entered into the equation at odd intervals: one taking our initial food order and unable to elaborate on certain menu items; another appearing at our table periodically to ask if we were finished with particular dishes while she stared blankly at plates that we had clearly emptied. Intuition and common sense were nowhere to be found during this galactic flyby.

Disappointment arose over an “antipasto platter” that promises “cheeses, meats and assorted goodies.” For $18 we received only four small slices of generic salami matched by an equal amount of cheese cubes that were nondescript in flavor. With barely enough protein for one person, let alone a foursome, the pickings also involved several olives, a few pickles, candied nuts and a scant plop of lettuce in the middle.

Working in its favor, Starlite’s menu changes often, adhering to the yields of fresh seasonal ingredients, many of them organic. Among the new entrees since my previous visit is Colcannon, an Irish recipe of cabbage and potatoes teaming with locally grown winter greens. We ordered the swooped up version that includes mushroom gravy, which offered an affectionate jolt of warmth on this cold night despite the Lean Cuisine-type portion we got.

Things like pork belly on country bread, octopus on arugula and regionally farmed mussels show off the kitchen’s gourmet bent – a welcome surprise to newcomers who assume the nibbles are all about burgers and fries. Those, however, are indeed available and quite good as the kitchen uses hand-cut potatoes for the fries and Brandt beef and Gruyere cheese for the burgers.

Jidori chicken prepared with Oaxacan-style mole sauce became the brightest star on our table. The menu warns that it takes 25 minutes to prepare. (Figure on 35 minutes if you end up with the crew we had.) The half bird yielded crispy skin and a clean, homey flavor inherent to these never-frozen, hormone-free chickens. The surrounding mole was also delightful, offering soft flavors from chilies and dried fruits sans the overload of chocolate that I’ve seen destroy mole sauces in other restaurants.

Long gaps in service prompted us to skip dessert. The signature confection here is a novel homemade ice cream sandwich speckled with toffee-chip cookies and pistachios. I tried it last year, and it’s worth the calories.

Starlite is a pretty place that will hopefully retrain its servers how to better connect to customers dropping their hard-squeezed cash here. It’s also one of the few joints in town boasting a sizable patio – a Zen-like continuation of space for lizard lounging located a few steps up from the main room.

Call it a cocktail lounge that happens to serve food, or a restaurant that offers a good bar atmosphere and decent drink list. It just depends on the current menu offerings and the fickle efficiency of the wait staff.