Was Stortini created just to be a tax break for the owners of El Chile? We can think of no other justification for the atrocities being committed in this new Italian-American kitchen.

The allure of this restaurant—a reincarnation of the short-lived El Gringo (which we liked, by the way)—is obvious: it’s in the cute color scheme, shabby-chic chandeliers and mirrors and, on the patio, an ironic nod to the checkered-tablecloth Little Italy aesthetic. Indoor seats and outdoor seats are equally fun and compelling. The menu, too, looks sweetly eager here and there—roasted beet salad, homemade sausage—but it mostly reads like a season of Barefoot Contessa recipes. Seasons be damned, they have offered sage-and-butternut-squash ravioli in the wilting heat of summer—and, worse yet, it accompanied a duck leg confit with cherry glaze. Imagine: a whole universe of flavors to fight each other to a sweet, soupy, incoherent death!

Appetizers also rock the big “no”: eggplant caponata has been inexplicably served to us without bread (with a sheepish “we’re out”—think salsa without chips), and pâté has tasted as if squeezed from a tube of liverwurst bought at HEB. We dubbed the cioppino “hot squid water.” Speaking of which, what’s up with cioppino? Like chicken parmigiana and pasta primavera, it’s actually an American invention; the dish doesn’t exist in Italy. We’ve never really understood the recipe—it’s like boullabaisse minus the deep flavor and the rouille.

The best dish at Stortini has been lasagne, which has a rich bolognese sauce and good texture. Pizzas and sandwiches also have a shot, with better crusts than we’ve seen from many, but the fillings and toppings drip with oil and tend to be pretty one-dimensional. Ask some people about their meals at Stortini, and they likely won’t be able to remember what they had to eat. That pretty much says it all.

The wine list spans the usual Italian suspects, weaker in the whites, while the reds are sprinkled with some surprising winners at crazy low prices (again: writing this off as a business loss?). Cocktails are great, particularly the “Basil Julep,” but you’re better off drinking them next door at their adjoining bar, the Red House, whose wilderness-lodge, cowhide-and-taxidermy theme is beautifully executed. Come to think of it, you should probably just skip dinner and head directly there.