Once again, the hullabaloo surrounding the sophomoric effort of one of Houston’s most recognizable chefs has amounted to a steep cliff from which it can only fall. It’s more difficult to analyze Textile in isolation of these expectations, quite simply because it is what so many restaurant critics hate to say most: very good. Not spectacular, and not bad. Just solidly good, with moments that reach gustatory nirvana, and some that dip below the kitchen’s potential.

What keeps Textile just this side of excellent is the same gremlin that binds most comparable restaurants: the details. When a restaurant guarantees you’ll be a Franklin or two shorter just for walking into the dining room, overlooked details can be maddening, let alone ones that seem intentionally botched.

The design gets it right, looking the part of a transformed mill, roughly-hewn and slightly cold. Its mostly white décor is fad-free and aloof, like an Indie rocker. We may like this quality in the dining room, but we detest it in the staff, whose general lack of graciousness is hard to swallow. Dishes are dropped at the table unceremoniously, with maybe some and maybe no explanation—depends on what time it is; seating is halted half an hour before the posted closing hour; there’s even a chilly, condescending sommelier. ’80s cliché alert!

For the most part, Textile’s kitchen nails an inspired, confident menu that changes frequently. A bacon tart strikes tones of smoke and pork fat against delicately bitter wilted greens, harmonizing with a crumbly, buttery crust. The ferrous high notes of roasted calf’s liver are filled out with a bass line of decadent pommes purée and a trace of horseradish foam. But some dishes are just bizarrely bad, like overcooked turbot sitting in a muddy pool of parsley jus tasting like salty bayou water. A roasted veal breast, lacking in any sort of interesting pitches in the first place, is conjoined to failure with undercooked Anson Mill grits that provide all the joy of eating sand. Desserts, on the other hand, are imaginative and successful, often entwining textures and flavors brilliantly. Think sweet potato beignets with savory-salty bacon pudding. Amongst dessert aficionados, these are the best sweet bites in town, and there’s an entire dessert tasting menu offered.

Textile’s ambitions command respect, its executions avoid predictability, and its attitude breaks hearts. Maybe it really is most like an Indie rocker—sexy and interesting and given to poetic fits and starts, but not someone we’d want to live with. Nevertheless, the potential is there, and we’ll keep watching.