When closet-sized Mulberry opened in a quiet corner of Austin’s new 360 building, we could hardly have been more excited. Not because the place feels so trendy—with its horseshoe bar and dark wood shelves decorated only with wine bottles and a few homages to the noble pig—but rather because of the Italian-influenced modern American cuisine that took Austin by surprise. But just after the second Fearless Critic Austin Restaurant Guide went to press, reports from trusted confidants and our own subsequent visits began to reveal some issues with consistency.

In its better moments, the barely-there restaurant is cozy but lively. There are only two tables for groups of three or more, and many—perhaps most—people who dine here, even on dates, sit side-by-side at the bar. A sidewalk patio allows for some overspill, and great people-watching.

And depressed fans of the excellent late Cibo will be happy to find its former sous chef in charge of this kitchen, still constructing delicious dishes from classic Mediterranean ingredients. On this menu, you’ll find no cleverness for the sake of being clever, and the best dishes are those whose ingredients are allowed to speak for themselves: raw oysters (Mulberry tends to favor the fresh waters of Virgina rivers to the salty bays farther north); pork belly with earthy lentils and bright, braised cherries; and pork and veal meatballs, whose simple broth of white wine, lemon, and bay leaf satisfies your soul on a deep, visceral level.

Some—but not most—visits have met with mishaps that almost seem to have come from another kitchen altogether: a porcini and crimini risotto with scant mushrooms and overwhelming truffle oil, some hot dishes that have come out cold, and haphazard salting. On one visit, a dessert of chocolate budino was like the best mom’s pudding ever, but with top-quality chocolate; the next time, it was fridge-hardened, stale-tasting, and inedible. Brunch has been consistently terrific, however, with small, plump blueberry pancakes, ideally poached eggs, and succulent homemade sausage.

The wine program has sadly declined somewhat since our first visits. It’s comparably more cynical, with the oaky smell of name-recognition factoring in more, and food-friendliness less; there are only a few balanced and reputable bottles left. The small draft beer selection of local micros and Belgians is a bit better.

Despite the random off night, Mulberry’s positives far outweigh its negatives, and this is still one of our top choices for a nice night out in this tony neighborhood.

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