At Tribeca Grill, which he helped open in 1990, Don Pintabona cooked an unswerving repertoire of sturdy food for many years. Now he brings his easygoing skill to a new Sicilian-themed restaurant, Dani.

Tribeca Grill’s road to its customers’ hearts has always been reliability and comfort, rather than any great culinary subtlety. Dani seems to aim for similar territory, in its own way. A kitchen that would send out a plate of unadorned sausage and potatoes, as Dani’s does, clearly doesn’t hinge its success on delicate effects. Mr. Pintabona has a Pollockian touch with olive oil: Almost every dish is doused in liberal amounts of it, for better or worse. On a little cylinder of sweet housemade ricotta ($9), it’s excessive; the cheese is already creamy and rich, and a drizzle of honey gives it sufficient backup.

A sheen of oil works beautifully, though, to unify the flavors in a yellowtail carpaccio starter ($12), and makes the bright red of the raw tuna, and the deeper red of the blood-orange rounds on top, glisten enticingly. Under a sheet of thin-sliced fish, the chef hides a tuna tartare lubricated with mayonnaise that he spikes with bottarga, a salty, savory dried roe. With similar panache, he crusts calamari ($10) with chick-pea batter before frying them to a dark golden color. The batter gives a substantive crunch and an earthy flavor note to the tender squid, which can (but don’t need to) be dipped in peppery red mayonnaise.

Like every Italian restaurant worth its salt, Dani urges its patrons to overeat, with a tempting three-course menu structure of starters, pastas, and “mains.” At some restaurants that format makes more sense, but here portions run large and heavy, and finishing three savory courses is a feat. It makes more sense to choose either a pasta or a main dish, and in the latter, a pasta is the way to go. Fat, chewy cavatelli ($18) entwine with tender shreds of beef cheeks in a rich sauce of mushrooms and marsala that gives a sultry power to bite after flavor soaked bite. An individual casserole of lasagna al forno ($17) is a big dish of pure comfort, layered with soft noodles and sweet tomato sauce, and filled with tiny meatballs, little pieces of sausage and porky mortadella, and big curds of cheese.

The pastas only fail when they strive for subtlety. A tangle of thick bucatini strands ($16), for example, is strewn with chopped sardines, yellow currants, and, of course, plenty of oil. The fact that the noodles were dramatically undercooked on one visit (but fine another time) doesn’t cloud my view of the dish. That the nuanced flavor falls flat, and the dish tastes primarily of oil, does.

In apparent deference to the business clientele it draws from the surrounding blocks, Dani offers a few plain grilled steaks in addition to its regular main-course fare. The best of the latter is a breaded pork chop ($19) that’s far from greaseless, but moist and tasty. It gets a multi-layered flavor assist from stewed apples laced with grainy mustard, sage leaves in the breading, and a large helping of fig jam that sounds an authentically Sicilian note. Another entree, a filet of cod ($21) served in a tagine with couscous and a stewy sauce of tomato, raisins, and capers, is likewise Mediterranean, but the strong, integrated flavors of the tagine fail to flatter the delicate fish.

That Italian sausage (just $15) is tasty, too, despite its bare presentation. The savory coils are made with coarse-chopped hunks of meat and fat, and seasoned with fennel for an appealing warmth. As a main course, though, it’s a lot of meat and too little of anything else. The oily roasted potatoes on the plate tend toward the bland side, and a token grove of broccoli rabe is good but sparse. This sausage would make more sense in a pasta, or reconfigured as a side, where it would join dishes like a delicious version of panelle, greasy, crumbly Sicilian chickpea fritters ($6). The sauce accompanying the terrific fritters is salmoriglio, an emulsion that’s usually pungent with garlic and lemon. Here it resembles honey-mustard salad dressing, and is best steered clear of.

Only a smattering of Sicilian wines can be found on the 40-bottle list. Among them are Cusumano’s hefty nero d’avola ($8/glass) and a juicily crisp white made from the indigenous fiano grape and wearing the Mandra Rossa label ($7).

The airy semi-industrial space has the look of a downtown destination, but the big, ponderous food lacks the grace expected in such an environment. The desserts, so often the last bastion of elegance on a menu, can share that dearth of subtlety: a mint panna cotta ($7) glows green with its overgenerous mint content, and has all the flavor discretion of a stick of gum. Berry shortcake ($7) is better, even if its bright-tasting berries and fine pastry cap are lost in a giant puff of cream.

Dani, 333 Hudson St. at Charlton Street, 212-633-9333.