If you start out with wine at Thee Bungalow, as most patrons do, it could take days before you finally decide to crack open the dinner menu. OK, I’m probably exaggerating, although oenophiles can easily soak up tons of time perusing the 1,000-plus labels on the restaurant’s wine list, which not only dazzle the brain but make you wonder if you’re really dining in the heart of Ocean Beach.

“We’re the enigma of the neighborhood,” says Owner Ed Moore, who purchased Thee Bungalow in 1987 and then started building an enormous wine collection before the average O.B.’er even understood the difference between Chablis and a peach wine cooler. Moore also supplanted the Austrian-German menu created by the previous owners with a repertoire of white-linen French fare that’s come to include quenelles, salmon in puff pastry, roast duck and soufflés. In an area still known for its burgers and beer and carefree non-worldliness, Moore proved that gastronomes lurk everywhere.

The property originated as a residential bungalow and dates back to the 1930s. Its dark wood doors and ceiling beams remain intact. The ambience is countrified European, especially in the front room where gargantuan jeroboams once filled with vino peer down from a ledge above the recessed fireplace. Rustic, cozy and inviting, it comes as no surprise to see homemade pates and Mussels Francais offered on the starter menu.

My dinner companion and I passed on those, and gravitated instead to the meringue-like quenelles – little “footballs” of seafood mousse bound together by egg whites and bejeweled with a creamy seafood sauce that made a bigger statement than the subtle-tasting mousse.

The Shrimp Scampi flamed in brandy is the best in town. The jumbo crustaceans are well flavored without being oily or too garlicky. And in what seems like an obligatory nod to Ocean Beach appetites, the San Diego Style Crab Cakes topped with bell pepper aioli were also pleasing. Seemingly void of mayonnaise and breadcrumbs, the cakes were fluffy and ocean-sweet.

Rarely do I think about dessert upon ordering my entrée. But if you’re considering the chocolate or orange liqueur soufflé, you must put in the request early like we did or else soak up 25 minutes after dinner with more good wine as you await the finale.

My companion chose for her main course the Sautéed Sea Bass, an expertly cooked filet rested in a supreme puddle of citrus sauce and chive oil. But the accompanying sweet potato and crab hash, she felt, soaked up too much of the oil that it was cooked in.

The sliced filet mignon I chose is offered occasionally as a special. And what a treat. The meat is smoked over applewood and hickory, and with each bite, it activated the saliva glands in my mouth. Imagine the intoxicating flavor of smoked brisket but with the buttery chew of top-quality filet instead.

Our waiter demonstrated an acute sense of timing. Silverware was replaced promptly. The breadbasket was kept full. And our meal courses flowed evenly. With just the right amount of time needed to reset our palates, the orange liqueur soufflés we ordered made their dramatic arrival. First came the airy cream sauce, which is where the flavor of the liqueur resided. A few seconds later, the big, puffy soufflés landed under our noses. Yet despite their lovely appearance and oven-fresh temperature, we felt they tasted too eggy.

The kitchen presents a few signature entrees worth noting such as Roast Duck, which comes with a choice of sauces (black cherry, green peppercorn or orange) as well as a spiced rum demi glaze. The Osso Bungalow made with lamb shank remains a favorite here, as does the Veal Sweetbreads served with lemon butter and caper sauce.

In addition to a successful wine club that Moore offers at no cost to members, the restaurant conducts regular wine dinners that are often tied into holiday traditions and culinary themes. Coming up, for instance, is Wild Game Week, scheduled for March 7-13. But no matter what’s cooking or who’s pouring, this is too special a place to wash down your food with a Diet Coke.