Ibiza’s Midtown parking lot, on a warm weekend evening, is an unlikely mixer of H3s and Toyotas; of goombas and wine geeks drawn by the generous range of barely marked-up wines. The candlelit indoors, if slightly pretentious, can be noisy and distracting on busy nights. It’s tempting to write off Ibiza as a trendy singles scene, but the kitchen is surprisingly competent. To be clear, it’s spotty, but not as bad as the high-gloss scene would suggest. We’ve had brilliant fried oysters with spicy tasso cream sauce, some of the better truffled french fries in town, and spectacular locally produced goat cheese with morcilla (blood sausage) and roasted beets. Aside from those small plates, the rest of the menu feels somewhat phoned in. Stuffed piquillo peppers have a tinny taste, and larger plates are ill executed. Braising is uneven, cuts are tough, and overcooking pork is a reliable occurrence. Crispy, personal-sized pizzas are fine, like one that incorporates the local goat cheese with oven-dried tomato, Portobello, and apple-smoked bacon.

Like its sister restaurant Catalan, Ibiza’s wine list is great—better when the more obscure French, Spanish, and Italian bottles from classic vintages show up at prices often a smidge above retail. There’s even some geekiness in the domestics, if quite a bit more prestige-minded choices. Like we said, something for everyone.