After one dinner that concluded with dishes of beef tenderloin and pommes frites and another that floated ravioli bathed in butter spiked with herbs, I was convinced that 240 Union was still the west side's best restaurant.

I was duped, and I'm still not over it.

A subsequent meal, marred by the worst dish I've eaten all year (and a few more that veered off into the land of forgettables) and a man - presumably a manager judging from his authoritative demeanor - who was visibly irritated because we didn't particularly want to sit in a completely empty separate dining room, brought me back down to earth and into befuddled puzzlement.

For years, the kitchen at 240 Union was spearheaded by Matthew Franklin, an extremely talented chef who finally left after a long run to man the burners at the Wine Experience Cafe & World Cellar, and now, at Farro, a new Italian restaurant in Centennial.

Franklin can cook - brilliantly - but in his absence, the kitchen at 240 Union feels like a tired cliche.

The sprawling space, a maze of separate dining quarters flanked by a gleaming open kitchen that harbors a wood-burning pizza oven, enough grills to fire a rocket and more square footage than the Taj Mahal, still manages to lure loud crowds, although I didn't see a lot of happy faces during my visits. Perhaps it was the economy that had turned them sour.

Or perhaps it was the pork chop ($19), seemingly prepared by someone who was still teetering on his training wheels. Horrifically overcooked, pummeled with pistachios that, inexplicably, had the flavor of wasabi and pooled in a sauce that looked and tasted like tree sap, it was maddeningly horrible - like Helter-Skelter on a plate. And its accompaniment of risotto, flecked with slimy ribbons of scallions, was an equally disorienting corpse offensively conceived and executed.

The same can be said for cioppino ($24). I love cioppino. It's one of my favorite dishes. I could swim in it, soak in it and would happily agree to inject it intravenously through my veins if that's what the doctor ordered.

But cioppino should start with a great fish stock; it should be redolent with herbs and spices, and the seafood shouldn't be shark bait. Here, the thin, undistinguished broth might as well have been tap water, rendered utterly tasteless.

There was no brightness of herbs, and while the swordfish and scallops were fine, the mussels and shrimp had all the allure of rubber bands.

Further proof that the kitchen seems to be coasting on two decades of nostalgia came via the shrimp cappellini ($17), a menu stalwart that, according to our server, would cause a food war were the kitchen to retire it. Please, I'm begging you: Retire it.

Cappellini went out of fashion with Dittos, and that thing you call a "tomato fondue" is nothing more than an insipid sauce of tomatoes and cream augmented with a scant of fresh basil.

But just when you think all hope is lost, the kitchen starts lobbing delicious curveballs. To wit: I loved the ravioli ($14) bloated with spinach and ricotta and surrounded by caramelized onions and wild mushrooms in a sauce rich with butter and buoyant with fresh herbs.

The heap of lightly tempura-fried calamari ($11), beautifully tender and strewn on an elongated plate with thin green beans and jalapeno rings, benefited from a sweet chile glaze with just a hint of heat. And the wood-oven roasted cauliflower ($9), mingling with golden raisins, pine nuts, wilted spinach and blots of goat cheese showered with a champagne vinaigrette, was spectacular.

So, too, was the beef tenderloin ($34), thick, tender as a first kiss and seeping with juices redder than rubies. Its side of fries could have been crisper, the seared spinach warmer, but the steak was a marvel.

And the "red hot" shrimp pizza ($15) drizzled with chile oil and topped with blanched garlic, roasted red peppers and mozzarella was an impressive construction supported by a chewy crust tinged golden.

240 Union has always had a formidable wine list, separated into whimsy headings like "Silver Linings" and "No Wimpy Wines," and thankfully, the samplings (and prices) are still some of the best in Denver.

And aside from the gentleman who seated us, service is seamless, an effortless ebb and flow of experienced pros who often triumph over the food.

The kitchen should take notice.

240 Union

* Grade: C+

* Address: 240 Union Blvd.

* Hours: 11 a.m.-10 p.m. Mon.-Thurs; 11 a.m.-10:30 p.m. Fri.; 5 p.m.-10:30 p.m. Sat.; 5 p.m.-9 p.m. Sun.

* Food: Creative American

* How much: $10-$15 small plates; $3-$12 soups and salads; $11-$17 pizzas and pastas; $16-$35 main dishes

* Reservations: Recommended

* Noise: Yes, in abundance

* Information: 303-989-3562 or 240union.com

* Parking: Complimentary lot directly in front of the restaurant

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