Trite and tedious as it may be, the table-and-chair paradigm still has some life in it, despite the determined efforts of local restaurateurs. Duvet, the capacious new Chelsea restaurant, accommodates its patrons on 30 oversize beds. There are no brass headboards or ruffled shams – these modern bunks are simply big, shallow, extra-firm mattresses set on low platforms and closely fitted with luxe oyster colored sheets and gold down pillows. For traditionalists, a few tables are placed discreetly behind the bed area, where curtains conceal their unfashionably upright occupants. The room’s aesthetic is more dance-club than bedroom, with smooth surfaces everywhere, louder-than-average chill-out music, and ambient lighting that slowly cycles through a series of mostly flattering pastel colors. Indeed, after dinner on weekend nights, the lights are turned down, the music up, and every surface becomes fair game for dancing.

At dinner, patrons stow their shoes and purses in drawers beneath the beds, and then stretch out into languorous poses to await their cocktails. Although Duvet offers contrivances like grip-surfaced lap trays and ring shaped translucent plastic mini-tables, public dining in bed is fundamentally awkward, plagued with frontal spills, uncomfortable contortions, and unwonted proximity to supine strangers. The gimmick of it is appealing, but it also gives one a new appreciation for good old sitting. Duvet’s clientele – young, casually dressy, and predominantly female – has the necessary streak of party-minded extroversion; a different sort of bed restaurant, perhaps one that didn’t discourage napping between courses, might attract an older, quieter crowd.

Duvet’s chef – David Coleman, formerly at Union Pacific and at Atlas – has the ability to cook playfully and well. His food is imaginative and often skillful, novel but not mere novelty; its colorful, flavorful seafood-centrism shows the stylistic influence of Union Pacific. Just occasionally, it favors originality over deliciousness. For at least a portion of the clientele, though, the fact that it’s easy to have a high-quality meal here is a pleasantly surprising but insignificant aspect of the theatrical experience.

A raw bar offers small treats as a starter or an alternative to a full meal; these are some of the less graceful of the restaurant’s offerings and probably best avoided. “Charred” mackerel ($9), served dramatically on a glass platform, consists of decently fresh, savory fish with a light surface sear (no char), sliced and dressed with pieces of mango and a fruity drizzle. But hunks of pink bluefin tuna ($10) nestle indistinguishably in a bowl of caviar like tapioca cloyingly enriched by a sea-urchin scented cream sauce; a topping of dried onions gives it the lingering, monochromatic flavor of California dip. Probing for pieces of fresh-tasting fish in the over rich pudding is a singularly unrewarding experience. Happily, the offerings of the kitchen, if not perfect, are far better than those from the “amuse bar.”

A moist, crunchy starter salad ($15), whose highlight is fried lotus root, but which also contains strips of taro, celery root, and other texturally attractive ingredients, is mounded on top of a thin carpaccio of cured duck. The fat-streaked duck provides protein and a bright red color, but any flavor it has is lost in the busy, ill-conceived dish. A simpler such salad ($13) works much better: Spicy watercress and peeled pink grapefruit segments give fresh balance to a crisply breaded filet of eel, the firm, sweet meat highlighted but not overwhelmed by the layer of greens. Yet a third starter in the same vein ($15) uses tender strips of seared skirt steak, smeared with horseradish cream, as the foundation, and piles on top a vibrant, flavor-soaked salad of shredded red cabbage, fennel, and bright edible flower petals, all with a sour yuzu dressing.

Main courses are less glitzy and more satisfying. Hake seems to be enjoying new menu popularity as other lean saltwater species become overfished; here, a thick filet ($21) bathes in a coconut-based white-and-orange curry broth with gelatinous pearls of tapioca and sweet carrot pieces. Eating soupy food with a fork in bed is not the neatest procedure, but the spicy, citrusy broth is irresistibly full of flavor. A gratifyingly simple preparation of wild striped bass ($26) pairs a beautiful, flawlessly cooked filet with a buttery citrus sauce that complements but doesn’t interfere with the fish.

A neatly executed dish of lamb “three ways” ($29) consists of a near-rare lamb chop that’s breaded and then sliced, with a succulent layer of fat adding juiciness throughout; pieces of cool, thin-sliced lamb tongue scattered in a tart-sweet salad of fennel ribbons and cranberry pieces; and a large, deep-fried pillow of ravioli whose fluffy, salty filling incorporates shreds of lamb leg meat. Dry-aged ribeye steak ($32) excels, too: the exceptionally tender and flavorsome meat is sliced (of course – diners at Duvet rarely need their knives) and fanned on top of bitingly intense mustard greens. A savory chive-studded cream sauce surrounds the food.

Desserts, all $8, have a fruity, sophisticated allure. A dense, very sweet banana tart with a pronounced crunch is topped with pure-tasting, refreshing chocolate ice cream; a bowl of tangerine creme brulee, with a firm crust and silky center, comes with a contrasting side order of churros lightly scented with black pepper. A dish of creamy lemongrass-tinged tofu custard, accompanied by a fresh little salad of citrus and lychee, provides a subtler respite from the intense sweetness of the other desserts, though its lush butteriness makes it hardly a dieter’s choice.

Cocktails ($12), which emanate from a striking faux-ice bar in the center of the room, should probably be grouped with desserts as well – though complex and well-executed with fresh fruits and juices, they are unstintingly, excessively sugary. The Purple Haze is vodka infused with candied violets; the White Satin Mojito, a sleek concoction of vanilla bean, yuzu juice, mint leaves, rum, and champagne, suits its evocative name. The fact that Austrian and Australian wines find themselves lumped together on the wine list is a hint that wine may be secondary here; indeed, diners requesting the list receive a brief startled look. The selection of 50 or so bottles is pretty familiar, sorted by country of origin and swooping quickly down from flaunters’ bottles of Petrus and Cristal to serviceable but inflated $40-$70 wines like Hugel’s Alsatian Riesling ($38).

Eating well isn’t exactly the point of Duvet, and the fact that it’s even an option is a little incongruous. The restaurant’s primary lure will always be its unusual gimmick; even when Mr. Coleman’s food is at its best, he is cooking for a highly distracted audience. Whether a silly environment like this makes a good home for such food can be argued; but those who do notice the kitchen’s knack can’t help appreciating it – probably at a nice comfortable table in the back.

Duvet, 45 W. 21st St., 212-989-2121.