There always seems to be a chatter in this town about Tony’s: Tony’s is done. Tony’s is back. Tony’s has moved. Tony’s has reinvented its image. So deep are Tony Vallone’s connections with Houston society that his name has become intrinsically newsworthy—and synonymous with success. But this much is certain: Tony’s is finally emerging from a dark period in which its longstanding need to please a certain customer contingent kept it from reaching its potential. In fact, the improvements are downright exciting.

The new kitchen is more focused, eschewing the baroque and old-school in favor of simply prepared dishes. This modesty just makes the bright, cold, soaring dining room and its expensive works of “museum-quality” art all the more obscene. The centerpiece is a Yao-Ming-dwarfing sculpture of three headless, armless torsos. Although we might respect the work’s nostalgic-Classicist merits in a gallery, as a dining-room centerpiece, it plays out as a sleazy distraction of colossal proportions. This stuff is way behind the times—it’s Houston at its gaudy worst.

The culinary potential here was always nearly limitless. We’ve had ravioli and gnocchi that were dazzling, and what must have been the city’s most ethereal soufflé. But in the past, many dishes were routinely overwrought with banal truffling, lobster-saucing, and oversalting.

Now, flavor is gently coaxed from quality ingredients using vinegars and citrus. Tired crab cakes have given way to a tower of lump crabmeat held together by mashed avocado and surrounded by fresh heirloom tomatoes. A delicately fried artichoke brightened by lemon juice nests atop thin pinwheels of tomato, cucumber, and zucchini. Branzino is simply pan-seared with a light reduction of Meyer lemon and Gavi that explodes with bright, vibrant flavor. The range of successes here are far greater than ever before, and some dishes even rival Da Marco for excellence.

The wine program is experiencing a renaissance of its own. Where the list was once overly focused in American Chardonnay and expense-account Italian bruisers like Barolo, Amarone, and Brunello, there are strides toward more unusual, small-production Italians as well. Mark ups remain ridiculously high, in some cases four times over retail.

Unfortunately, the new attitude of the kitchen has not translated to service, which is blatantly preferential, ill-equipped in the fundamentals of wine service, and prone to upcharging (check your bill). We usually don’t point out bad service unless it is persistent and keeps a restaurant from greatness. Now it—and little else—does.

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