Joseph’s, as far as monikers go, is sort of like that of Prince, who for a time was “the artist formerly known as Prince” – Joseph’s is the restaurant formerly known as Citarella. But even when Prince was known as “the artist” he still acted like Prince, whereas Joseph’s is very little like Citarella, the terrific restaurant I reviewed back in 2002.That, I believe, has everything to do with the staff – not the chef – so hopefully this too will be temporary.

First, about the name change. Owner Joseph Gurrera, who also owns the Citarella retail emporium, opened Citarella the restaurant back in 2002 in what may be the smallest skyscraper on Sixth Avenue near Rockefeller Center, the tiny four-story home of the original Hurley’s Saloon. With executive chef Brian Bistrong and pastry chef William Yosses at the helm, the restaurant got off to a solid start, though apparently not strong enough for Mr. Gurrera, who rechristened the restaurant last summer with his own name. Mr. Bistrong has since moved on to the Harrison down in Tribeca, but Chef Yosses remains, now as executive chef, apparently doing it all. His food is so good that I wish he could run the front of the house, too. Indeed, from host to bartender to bus person to waiter, the staff here is completely disorganized, as I witnessed last week during dinner.

When we entered, one host stared blankly at us while the other played with his touch-screen for a good minute before looking up. After some extensive throat-clearing, I was able to get their attention and let them know we had a reservation.

We headed to the sleek, barrel-vaulted bar (filled with after-work suits) and waited for two bartenders – who were having a leisurely chat – to look our way. Finally, I ordered a pair of super-sized, overly sweet, off-balance Manhattans. When the rest of the party arrived, one of the hosts carried our drinks upstairs on a silver tray and then proceeded to drop them in the middle of the dining room, splattering bourbon and glass all over the place. The waiters and bus staff stared incredulously while several of the guests gasped. It was one of those high-drama moments that you can’t plan, and the staff’s paralyzed reaction said everything about what’s wrong here.

We were offered menus but no wine list, and then when we ordered a bottle of wine the waiter poured us each a splash and then lost the bottle. Yes, lost it – had no idea where it went. This only became apparent after we’d called him over to the table, asking him to refill our empty classes.

Adding to the chaos, we’d evidently placed a food order too complex. Hoping to taste as much as possible in one sitting, we chose four appetizers, two pastas as an “intermezzo” course, and then four entrees. The pastas came out with the entrees, however, so we had to pick up our glasses and surrender our bread plates to make room. Had the starters not been so good, I probably would have walked out.

But the starters were good. A warm goat-cheese and roasted-beet salad was wonderful, the beets sweet, earthy and juicy, served with chopped walnuts ($12).The Maryland blue crab cake was sweet and savory, mostly crab meat and perfectly moist ($15). A lovely zucchini tart had the right texture, although it was overpowered by pesto ($14). I’m not sure why bouillabaisse was offered as a first course (and at $16, it was priced nearly as high as entree) but it was delicious, nonetheless, a classic amalgam of fresh fish in a briny-spicy broth, accompanied by a plank of toasted bread slathered with aioli.

The pastas were hit and miss. Ricotta gnocchi ($14/$22) was slightly starchy, but not the heaviest I’ve ever tasted. The gnocchi were bathed in a sweet sausage sauce that was quite good. Homemade pappardelle, on the other hand ($16/$28), was magnificent, the delicate, nearly see-through ribbons tossed with flecks of braised duck and porcini mushrooms.

Considering that Citarella, the store, is famed for its fresh fish, we focused on seafood entrees, with mostly great results. A 2-inch-thick slab of swordfish ($26), expertly roasted, was served with a somewhat overpowering olive tapenade and a pile of wonderful fregola pearls, an ancient Sardinian form of pasta made from semolina. Loup de Mer was poached expertly in a garlic-infused Basque-style broth ($27); the fish was buttery and excellent. The only disappointment among fish dishes was the whole grilled branzino ($29), which looked wonderful but smelled less than fresh. Texturally, it was past its prime, too, having lost its meatiness to mushiness.

For variety, we ordered the breast of duck with glazed turnips and braised bitter greens, and were glad we did ($26). It was seared a perfect medium rare, browned beautifully, and not the least bit gamey.

Desserts, all $12, lived up to Mr. Yosses’ reputation of a jack of all trades. The Eskimo pie and “devil dog” were a playful partnership juxtaposition of chocolate and vanilla, topped with a wonderful butterscotch sauce. A golden apple tarte tatin was surprisingly fluffier than I’ve had before, but it was nonetheless great, served with pralines and “cream” ice cream.

Finally, as if for comic relief, our water returned to our table after we had divvied up the bill with cash to announce that he had forgotten to add a bottle of wine to the check, and presented us with a new check. We couldn’t help but laugh.

Joseph’s 1240 Sixth Ave., 212-332-1515.