For the past decade, restaurateur and panini king Jason Denton has dominated moderate Italian dining in Manhattan—his Lupa, ’inoteca and ’ino are three of the city’s best in the genre. Now he’s stepping it up with Bar Milano, by far his most ambitious restaurant.

To pull this one off, Denton has orchestrated a full-blown raid of his bargain-priced empire: Little brother Joe, his partner at ’inoteca, mans the front of the room; Bar Milano co-chef Eric Kleinman was also pulled from ’inoteca; and co-chef Steve Connaughton was liberated from Lupa. They’ve gone all-in with the hours (it opens at 8am and shuts at 3am), have dropped big bucks on the slick, masculine decor—most notably Italian marble, layered like a stone terrine, in the 60-seat dining room—and constructed an impressive 500-bottle wine list, all Northern Italian.

Lest you think this is a reservations-only affair, there’s also a 26-seat bar area that’s truer to Denton’s roots, with a casual menu (behold: the panini) and cocktails both classic (the “Bird of Paradise,” which includes gin, rock-candy syrup, egg whites and seltzer) and inventive, courtesy of Vegas mixologist Tony Abou-Ganim.

But there’s nary a pressed sandwich to be found in the business-friendly dining room. There is, however, a $160 tasting menu with wine pairings, and stylish à la carte options that seem to pay as much deference to Italy’s design legacy as its culinary one. The patata imbottita might be the prettiest appetizer in all of New York: A brittle potato pancake holds back an oozing duo of egg yolk and fontina cheese, with caviar adding color and salt.

I ordered that dish without the help of the server, who, while friendly, tended to be pushy and ill-informed. I was sold hard on the farro-and-raisin-stuffed cabbage coupled with oysters fried in a farro flour. Though I caved in, I ended up regretting my choice—the stuffed cabbage was cloying, and the crunchy oysters ill-suited for it.

That said, those mollusks were the only subpar seafood I sampled—overall, fish is the kitchen’s strength. Kleinman and Connaughton painted a pungent dill-infused olive oil sauce over firm pinci (short, thick spaghetti) and strands of soft cuttlefish with downy chopped razor clams. The chefs play the sweet-and-salty card to fine effect with seared scallops, seasoned with aromatic citrus zest that’s offset by more of that saline caviar. Meaty pan-seared monkfish, as luscious as its foie gras accompaniment, hit similar flavor notes with a side of mellow braised lettuce and tart Campari sauce.

Meat entrées struggled. A tagliatelle bolognese, refined by substituting hanger steak for ground beef in the thick ragù, was just above average. I loved the dollop of apple-and-pear mostarda atop the giant pork chop, but once I’d polished off the condiment, the bland protein was a chore to eat. I was similarly taken with the morel-and-veal jus that accompanied the veal milanese, but while the meat was nicely medium-rare, the bread-crumb coating slid right off the cutlet.

Desserts were just fine, but little more. A “soufflé” was actually three crêpes layered with mascarpone cream and sprinkled with pistachios and dried apricots—a perfectly satisfying finale, but one that would have been more suitable on an autumn night. Although a stewy rhubarb crostata took better advantage of the season, warming spices like nutmeg and cinnamon made it feel weather inappropriate.

While more than serviceable, Bar Milano is my least favorite establishment in the Denton family—but the throngs who have packed the place since Day One suggest that my opinion is not shared. My favorite part remains the bar, thanks to the cocktails, well-chosen wines by the glass and food recommendations that proved more informed than those of the dining room’s servers. Such sure-footedness makes good on Bar Milano’s name—and suggests that the heart of the Dentons’ operation is still in casual dining.