Complicated flavors that “sort of talk to you” while revealing themselves “little by little” is how Chef Rodrigo Martinez sums up his fiercely unique brand of Mexican-California fusion cuisine at Delirio’s.

The new, chic restaurant, draped in expensive abstract paintings by acclaimed artist Cecilia Garcia Amaro, is a fine-dining experience unlike most I’ve had, due mainly to dishes that slam the taste buds with breakthrough compositions that you won’t encounter anywhere locally.

Despite its culinary categorization and the chef’s Mexican origins, you’ll find nary a quesadilla or tamale in the house but rather an array of top-quality fish, meats and other ingredients pointed up by fruit juices, wine-and-chocolate reductions, vanilla and blithesome chilies.

Two visits to Delirio’s proved consistent and sensational. Meals are preceded with fresh table bread accompanied by small pillows of avocado butter wrapped in cornhusks. Floating about the airy and exquisitely lighted dining room, which resembles an upscale art gallery, is wine director Jerome Astolfi, who adds charm and formality to the atmosphere with his personable French accent as he guides you expertly through the international wine list.

The clientele is sexy and sophisticated, seemingly hailing from Mexico’s fine-dining scene, which is where the ambitious Martinez originated: Trez in Tijuana, upscale hotels in Cabo San Lucas and the Cordon Bleu School Grand Diplome in Mexico City, not to mention the Culinary Institute of America in Napa Valley.

Among my favorite starters was Grilled Tomato Soup, which revealed a nice sour undertone set off by the roasted pulp, along with Guajillo chilies, olive oil and cilantro. It completely upstaged the chef’s hearty Mushroom Soup made with duck stock, which explained its excessive oiliness and became the only item I didn’t care for.

Just as I’ve been drowned up to my eyeballs with ahi tuna found in nearly every restaurant on the continent, Martinez tosses out a lifesaver I clutched onto. The barely seared fish is presented in salad form, with a busy but delicious bedding underneath of firm, savory lentils speckled with red bell pepper and dressed in soy sauce, lemon, olive oil, Serrano chilies and mango chutney. I loved it. In another presentation, the chef serves the tuna tartare style over an ultra-thin corn tortilla, using a chipotle-vanilla sauce that imparts a comforting essence to the fish.

Two other starters were also pleasingly over-the-top in terms of their flavor chemistries. The grilled Duck Burrito, cut into sections, sported tender meat encased in a crispy, delicate flour shell that’s glazed on the outside with a wonderfully sticky balsamic and fig reduction. It came served with two dipping sauces – “broken chili” and sweet and sour.

In my most recent visit, the chef tweaked the Grilled Scallops presentation from its current menu description, which lists bay shrimp, white wine, corn relish and orange as their stage. We instead got the mollusks drizzled in a light strawberry sauce and watermelon juice, plus caramelized onions, Serrano chilies and a wisp of cinnamon. My only complaint: The summery flavors didn’t jibe to the dry, cold nights of our autumn season.

The entrée menu offers beef filet mignon (from Brandt Beef) in three spunky and original preparations. I chose mine with a thick, dark chocolate-cabernet reduction that raised the tender cut to dreamy heights, the sauce’s velvety consistency matching exquisitely to the beef’s silken texture. On the side were excellent mashed potatoes infused with chives and a discernible amount of sour cream, plus a hunk of perfectly grilled fennel that paired accurately with everything on the plate.

The other choices involve coffee sauce, two types of chilies and apple chutney, or one appointed with white wine and brie-chipotle sauce. You can look far and wide and not find these types of beef preparations anywhere north of the border.

My companion’s Stuffed Poblano Chile, one of the few menu items hinting toward Mexican fare as San Diegans know it, was a hot mama filled with buttery Jack cheese, almonds, beets and meaty bay shrimp (yes, an oxymoron, but the crustaceans were truly rich tasting for their diminutive size). The “sauce” in this case was raspberry vinaigrette, which gently tackled the heat level of the pepper.

Martinez is correct when he says, “This type of fusion hasn’t been represented yet,” referring not only to his proclivity for embracing the tenets of California cuisine but for also stretching his dishes further with French nuances that show up in the form of fertile emulsions and reductions.

Other menu items include risotto made with bean broth, Parmesan cheese and epazote oil; organic chicken breast stuffed with Oaxaca cheese, onion and zucchini flower sauce; and duck breast in orange-honey sauce with grilled cactus – dishes that you can bet are neither bland nor boring.

The only dessert I tried was Roasted Pears in reddish-colored simple syrup, served with a side of good vanilla ice cream. The fruit was firm to the fork yet juicy in the mouth – a remarkable dichotomy of textures that Martinez weaves profoundly into nearly all of his recipes.