Much to the disdain of chefs (and their publicists), there’s an inevitable causal relationship between the anticipation of a restaurant’s opening and its capacity to disappoint.

Bedford is the graphic illustration of this principle. The frenzied build-up arguably had nowhere to go but into a rapid, sudden decline upon consummation, but that doesn’t entirely let the restaurant off the hook. The long, narrow, dimly lit dining room flanked by ambiguous art has the nonspecific corporate feeling of a chain-hotel lobby. So dire is the décor that not even a jazz ensemble near the hostess stand can spice things up. Next to the bar is a stunning achievement of glittery excess in which a layer of glass covers 1.5 million carats of uncut emeralds. It’s opulent, somehow not tacky, but definitely weird.

A revolving door of servers often results in a waitstaff that is unfamiliar with the menu and unable to describe complex dishes with any reliability. We can’t blame them for a lack of enthusiasm; their uniforms smack of the gas-station-attendant look that was chic in the ’90s.

If the atmosphere of the restaurant blunders, it might be because it was conceived as an afterthought—merely there to service the menu, not to integrate it thematically. This is understandable; “global” is a tough genre to nail down. This menu would do just fine combining French techniques, Italian pastas, and local heat, but it becomes downright avaricious when it trucks in Southeast Asian and Indian elements. As anyone who has ever tried to take all of Asia in Risk will tell you, it’s bound to end badly.

While combinations sometimes sound exciting, their successes are mixed. Jumbo oysters served simply on a timbale of refreshing salmon and avocado celebrates the flavors of each, but scallops with a gently sweet crust and light cream sauce are made jarring by nearly raw jalapeños. Meats have been problematic, from overwhelmingly rich and gamy duck ravioli to gristly portions of ribeye smothered in teriyaki. Fish, too, suffers from persistent inconsistency; halibut has come overdone and dry, whereas grilled salmon has come beautifully cooked.

The menu is well served by a diverse wine list of competent, interesting New Worlds and exemplary Old Worlds; both the experienced and inexperienced will find something good in their price range.

Given the hubbub surrounding Bedford pre-production, the misses are that much more noticeable—and given the amount of time the kitchen has had to pull it together, inexcusable. Bedford is not a bad restaurant, but one whose ambitions are still, rather distractingly, out of its reach.