This is just the sort of neighborhood bistro we really want to like: small, local, chef-owned. The stone-walled space near South Lamar and Barton Springs, a neighborhood that needed a restaurant, is cozy and cute, with vegetation and light everywhere and a lovely little garden. Everyone in the place, from chef to waitstaff, comes off as genuinely tickled to be serving you—another key element of that fun, relaxed neighborhood-bistro vibe.

The best part of Gypsy is the short but sophisticated Italian wine list. Skip over the Napa Cabs, and you’ll find three different bottles of Prosecco and well-chosen reds from several underrepresented Italian producers: there’s a Brunello di Montalcino from Col d’Orcia, a good value from an often-overpriced appellation; a light, fruity Sicilian Frappato from Valle dell’Acate, an excellent Sicilian producer; and San Patrignano Aulente, a delicious Sangiovese from Emilia-Romagna that you almost never see in America.

Gypsy’s PR pitch is that it is “not your grandmother’s Italian.” Reads the website: “Leave your preconceptions of Italian food at the door and enjoy a beautiful meal rich in the flavor and traditions of Northern Italy.” We’re also told that the chef cooked at a restaurant called “Le Masiere” in Aviano, Italy—a city famous for its US Air Force base. But precious few of the dishes on Gypsy’s menu would ever be found in Italy, northern or otherwise: a Caesar salad with herb croutons and shaved parmesan, for example; salmon en papillote with artichoke hearts, olives, couscous, lemon, and capers; pasta primavera with snap peas, onions, summer squash, spinach, and tomatoes; or grilled duck breast with orange reduction, broccoli, red bell pepper, and pine nuts. We do have to grant them one thing: it’s definitely not your grandmother’s Italian—especially if your grandmother’s Italian.

The recipes are often overburdened with flavorless, unnecessary vegetables, and the execution’s not quite there. Fried ravioli have been leathery; calamari and orzo pasta were terribly underseasoned; lamb has come severely overcooked, tough, and dry; a $30 filet can’t be cooked properly to temperature; and the “seasonal vegetables” that come with (otherwise decent) trout are hopelessly boring. Tiramisú is a competent rendition, but it’s too little, too late. In our hearts, we wish we could recommend this place, but we’re food critics, and our duty is first and foremost to evaluate the food. At least there’s the wine.