Designer Karim Rashid may be best known for his blobby plastic product designs, but he has lent his talents to a growing number of striking interiors. This fall, he dressed Barbounia in feathers, and he has given Askew a playfully hip feel, with geometric graphics in bright fuchsia and green, and eye-catching details like a trick reversible menu. But flashy restaurants can run the risk of overshadowing their own food. At a place like Askew, where the designer is quite a few notches more famous than the chef, one might expect any substance to get lost under the glossy surface. One would be pleasantly surprised.

Chris Lim, who worked in the inventive kitchen at Town, has created a cuisine that’s as full of depth as it is of surprises. The flavor influences are wide-ranging but never cursory, and there’s a clear unity to the cooking. His menu of diverse small plates is divided into categories: Classic, Light, Hearty, and Cheese. The latter category includes the only sweet fare on the menu, while the lines between the first three are fuzzy – I don’t see what’s so classic about scallops in maple gastrique, for instance, and the poppy seed gnocchi are more delicate than hearty.

But, linguistic quibbles aside, the range of choices works quite well. Three or four courses will fill an average belly, but they’re so tasty and varied that it’s hard to stop. The fresh sea scallops ($15) are individually wrapped in fiercely smoky bacon, pierced by a hidden skewer, gently seared, and sweetened with the maple glaze for a substantial, engaging snack. The same sweet-savory interplay is at work in a local duck breast ($17) that Mr. Lim cures to an appealing suppleness and flavors with vanilla, black pepper, and citrus, for complex and compelling harmony. A substantial ceviche of snapper ($12) coddles the fish in a bath of coconut milk, jalapeno shavings, and lots of lime, abetted in its mission by smoked paprika and tobiko caviar.

When Mediterranean influences enter the fray, things get a little simpler but no less savory. Mr. Lim makes a version of socca that’s almost traditional, sandwiching melty pecorino Romano inside thin, tender crepes made from chickpea flour ($6). His caponata, or tangy eggplant relish ($10), is classically minded too, but my recollections of the dish largely skip the relish and focus lovingly on the ultra-buttery brioche round it sits on, and the salty-sweet Serrano ham strips adorning it. Those delicate gnocchi ($12) veer back toward the inventive end of the spectrum: Studded with poppy seeds, they’re lightly crisped on the surface and soft inside. For sauce, the dumplings wade in a creamy, punchy cauliflower puree; smoky speck ham and pale green favas add dimension.

By this time one is getting a little full, but the menu still has unexplored depths. Skewers of jerk chicken ($11) have stunningly juicy flesh inside their habanero-warmed, West Indian-spiced coatings; a snarl of crunchy shredded green mango cools and complements. The heavy seasoning on a plate of Brussels sprouts ($6) seems designed to win over enemies of the divisive vegetable: As if red chili and roasted garlic weren’t enough, a small dose of anchovy amps up the savor. The sprouts themselves tread a fine line between “delectably crunchy” and “undercooked.” The cheesy, creamy, Guinness-darkened topping of Welsh rarebit ($9) has serious comfort-power, but the standout on that plate is a vigorous little salad of paper-thin, super-crisp green apple slices. The meal’s only letdowns come when the chef’s keen sense of balance fails, as with the hyperactive Brussels sprouts or an order of tempura shrimp ($13), whose flaccid batter, mayonnaise sauce, and sprinkling of slivered almonds all fail to offset the shrimps’ cloying nature.

There’s no chocolate on the menu, and only two desserts. One is a magnificent hot strudel ($9) of apples and raisins and crisp filo, layered with crystalline, deep-flavored slivers of rich aged gouda: a luxurious reminder of the classic compatibility of apple pie and cheese. The cheese in the other ($9), a creamy, mildly goaty garrotxa, plays second fiddle to a light compote of apricots and pistachios.

A panoply of cocktails suits Askew’s sleek mood. The Ellis ($12) is a potent combination of rye, Benedictine, and pear juice; bourbon milk punch ($12) is a sweet, slushy refresher with the warmth of nutmeg. Eight wines by the glass offer a food-friendlier nip; a 2003 Bouchard Burgundy particularly stands out. But the 20 or so bottled wines tend to be pricey: Considering that you can leave the restaurant well fed for $30, it seems incongruous that only a third of the wide-ranging bottles are under $50.

The enveloping design of the restaurant can be enjoyable or a bit oppressive, depending on taste and mood. But it’s the food that makes it worth coming back to, rescuing what could otherwise be just another stylishly insubstantial restaurant.

Askew, 504 La Guardia Place, between Houston and Bleecker streets, 212-529-3560.