“Ever hear of The Oceanaire?” I asked one of my regular dining companions.

“No. Is it a room ionizer?” he replied.

“Uh, not even close.”

Until recently I would have also guessed incorrectly, thinking it was some sort of low-sound dishwasher designed to drug you into a nap when it runs – or a luxury cruise liner that puts all other Love Boats to shame. Though after squinting to read the fine cursive subheading, Seafood Room, the notion of an exclusive restaurant specializing in every type of saltwater fish known to man comes into focus.

The Oceanaire Seafood Room in the lower Gaslamp Quarter is bound to run its competitors into the lobster tank. It’s the Neiman Marcus of fish houses, where New England meets New Orleans in terms of seafood preparations, and where the waiters come clad in pristine white jackets and natty black ties.

From a plush foyer my dining companion and I ascended a curvy staircase, where at the top, a host asked if he could hang our sport coats. A sprawling dining room off to the right resembles a supper club from the 1940s, but in a modern Gaslamp interpretation. An icy, attractive oyster bar calls from the left. And sleek woods bathed in warm lighting add opulence to the entire motif.

The menu is revised nightly to accommodate a litany of fish and seafood that arrives fresh each day. Things like Hawaiian Spearfish, live Maine Lobster, Baja Baquetta and Costa Rican Mahi were among the listed offerings, which Chef Brian H. Malarkey incorporates into the day’s specialties and dresses up with dreamy sauces and herbal butters. Other catches get relegated to the “Simply Grilled or Broiled” category for those who prefer straightforward flavors.

Our appetizers featured a Maryland Jumbo Lump Crab Cake – big chunks of tender meat molded together without the support of mayonnaise or breadcrumbs. Also excellent was the Shrimps de Jonghe cooked expertly in Dijon mustard, butter and garlic.

The Manhattan Clam Chowder was classic and hearty, and required no help from the Old Bay seasoning that appoints every table and booth. We particularly loved the presentation of the Hearts of Romaine, a full head of lettuce that came on a chilled plate drizzled with robust bleu cheese dressing, and then cut and served at the table by our waiter.

Dish portions became noticeably larger as we sailed further into our meal. From the a la carte side dishes, for example, we opted for Green Beans Amandine, which could have easily fed a party of four. Though a little undercooked for my taste, the smoked almonds mixed throughout added wonderful flavor. The Salt-and-Vinegar Fries, also super-sized, served as a tasty contrast to the gourmet standards of our main courses.

My companion’s Grilled Queen Charlotte Wild King Salmon from British Columbia was a charmer. The orange vinaigrette it sat in stuck a divine match to the thick filet, as did the wasabi mashed potatoes, which in many fine-dining restaurants are finally nudging out those garlic mashes of the ’90s.

I ordered Parsley Crusted New Zealand Bluenose Seabass, which the chef later admitted was an invention he pulled out of his sleeve earlier that day. And a good one it was. The fish was adorned colorfully with basil pesto and pear tomatoes to create a zingy Italian essence.

At one point in the meal we witnessed the Grand Shellfish Platter land on a nearby table. Excessive and beautiful, it’s a tower of chilled shrimp, crab, mussels, king crab, scallops and oysters. The restaurant also offers “traditional caviar service,” plus a lengthy wine list and classic cocktails established over the last century.

Meat lovers are limited to filet mignon in either the Surf and Turf or by itself, plus Bone-In Ribeye, Rosemary-Rubbed Chicken and Seaboard Farms Pork Chop. But truly, it’s a travesty to visit here if you don’t eat fish.

Although seven Oceanaires have sprouted in major U.S. cities, the Minneapolis-based enterprise provides leeway to its operating partners (in this case Chef Malarkey and business associate Michael Guy Mitchell) to create their own menus and drink lists. The interior design, however, is dictated by corporate, yet hardly generic and with no expense spared. A visit to the men’s restroom proves it, where you’ll find plush individual hand towels, an electric shoe shiner and retro toiletries such as Brylcreem and Old Spice on the vanity. We couldn’t help but wonder what the girls get in the Powder Room.

Everything except the sourdough dinner bread is made in-house, including the whale-size desserts that we couldn’t possibly finish – Super Duper Chocolate Brownie and Pear-Strawberry Crisp. In the end we had become the stuffed Dover Soles of the evening.