For years, it’s been confounding to New York’s lovers of African cuisines that options are so slim: a few Ethiopian and Moroccan joints, or a jaunt up to West 116th Street for authentic, low-budget West African fare. Meanwhile, our most prominent African-born chef, Marcus Samuelsson, has kept busy doing great things at Aquavit with the cuisine of Sweden, where he was raised, and then with Japanese fusion at Riingo.

In 2006, Mr. Samuelsson tantalized us by publishing a book of pan-African recipes; now, at last, he has opened a restaurant to match: Merkato 55. The new place is a palatial two-story affair in the meatpacking district, with ebonized wood throughout and various African decor touches such as mud-cloth and cowries. Merkato’s menu is split, rather confusingly, into kidogo, which are small snacks and dips, plus the usual starters and mains, which are called “small plates” and “large plates” respectively. A few main courses are listed under “In A Pot” instead. Fortunately, the servers are briefed to expect confusion about this unfamiliar cuisine, and field questions with warm, informed opinions.

Of course, to call it “a cuisine” (as the servers do) is misleading — Africa is a giant landmass, and Merkato pulls diverse flavors from all its corners, and beyond, as with the South Asian and Dutch borrowings that contribute to southern African food, and certain concessions that need to be made for American palates. Some dishes here, such as a big, creamy lobster salad appetizer ($18), bear little relation to anything that might be found on that continent: It’s spiked with grapefruit and cress, and just a token smear of spicy sambal paste. Another starter, one of the restaurant’s only representatives of West Africa, is quite disappointing: a dark golden, almost saltless chicken consommé ($10) poured at the table over a cursory bouquet of shredded chicken thinly spread with peanut butter. A lone avocado slice does nothing at all to make the dish interesting.

Such blandness isn’t the norm, however. One peculiar starter is made up of three balls of tuna meat, crusted with crushed peanuts and fried until just their centers are rare, then set, with mango dice and shredded papaya, in a satisfying pool of spicy sauce ($14). Doro wat ($26), the Ethiopian chicken stew, was not as flavorful as the version I get for half the price uptown; it’s served here not on top of injera flatbread, but rather with a couple of soggy rolls of it stuffed into the stew pot.

I liked the restaurant — the space, the people, and the ideas — but really there aren’t that many dazzling dishes. One of the best is an unprepossessing meat-free main course of chickpea gnocchi ($19) in a complexly spiced tomato sauce. The abundant, tan, delicately sautéed dumplings are rich and nutty-flavored, and the seasoning has the fullness of very fresh spice. Tangled into the dish are tasty leaves of slightly stewed chard, as well as occasional treats such as smoked chickpeas crunching under tooth. A $32 main course feels a little dear when it’s just three ungarnished skewers, even as tasty as Merkato’s sosaties. The three are identical: a lump of bacon on the tip, tasting beautifully of the grill; then a near-melted blob of apricot; then a substantial cube of venison redolent with tart tamarind marinade, and finally a perfunctory hunk of onion.

The dishes that I predict will stick in my memory longest are among the plainest: a side of smoky collards; the fluffy, fresh thyme-dusted za’atar bread ($6), and a remarkable lassi ($5) from the dessert list. The balance of elements in the lassi, a mouth-filling milkshake, is exquisite. There’s the tang of yogurt, the sweetness of pistachio, a good dose of salt, and barely noticeable peppercorn heat.

After all the anticipation, it’s sad to see such unevenness in the food. The handsome new restaurant’s effort to coalesce a pan-African identity on the plate doesn’t seem doomed, but it has a ways to come.

Merkato 55 (55 Gansevoort St., between Greenwich and Washington Streets, 212-255-8555).