My New Jersey friends describe the Garden State’s Italian food as an unapologetic blend of red gravy and strip malls. They talk of unassuming storefronts hiding world-class comfort food behind neon signs and generic glass doors. In Austin, we often trade that grit for Instagrammable aesthetics and expensive small plates. Chef Mike Graffeo, an alum of Emmer & Rye Hospitality and Vespaio, decided to skip the pretense. He partnered with Mo Pittle of JewBoy Burgers to transform the old Wok ’N Express on the corner of 45th and Guadalupe into Umarell, a neighborhood joint that prioritizes substance over style.
The exterior still looks like a convenience store, but the interior leans into lived-in nostalgia. Behind the cozy red booths, the original walk-in coolers and old, bright-green signage remain. Black-and-white checkered tablecloths and wood-paneled walls create a kitschy, welcoming atmosphere. The walls are covered in concert posters, including a prominent nod to The Boss, naturally. Punk rock and hip-hop blare from the speakers, yet the space stays family-friendly. While there is a dedicated lot, it can sometimes get full during busy hours, so neighborhood street parking may be necessary.
It’s important to note Umarell’s counter-service model. Because you order at the register before sitting, it can be slightly difficult to plan out a multi-course meal ahead of time. On a first visit, you might end up over-ordering on instinct, though the staff is quick to provide a to-go box for the inevitable leftovers. Despite the casual format, the hospitality feels attentive. Staff circulate to clear plates and check on guests, maintaining a pace that feels more like a full-service trattoria than a quick-service window.
The menu highlights Graffeo’s goal of keeping high-quality Italian food accessible. In early interviews about the concept, he noted that the kitchen would rely heavily on the deep fryer, making it more of a Jersey-style snack-and-sandwich spot than a traditional pasta house. The calamari and curly fries appetizer proves that point with a massive mountain of shoestring squid and seasoned potatoes. A bright, citrusy green sauce adds enough acid to cut through the salt.
The eggplant agrodolce offers a clever nod to the building’s previous life as a Chinese takeout spot. The team fries the eggplant slices until crispy and tosses them in a sweet-and-sour sauce topped with garlic toum. While the breading can occasionally slide off the tender veggie, the dish still works.
The cabbage Caesar salad is a standout, swapping traditional romaine for shredded cabbage to create a crunch that holds up against the house dressing and shaved cured egg yolk. It’s a balanced, craveable salad in a city that already has several great versions.
For Southerners, the phrase “red gravy” may require some mental gymnastics. To me, gravy is a white, cream-based topping for chicken-fried steak or mashed potatoes. To Italian Americans – and at Umarell – it refers to a bright, punchy tomato sauce that has clearly simmered for hours, mellowing into a deep, savory sweetness. That gravy runs through nearly every main dish on the menu. It tops the fontina-stuffed meatballs in the Big Rig, served on, you guessed it, rigatoni pasta with parmesan cheese. Cutting into the oversized orbs reveals a gooey cheese center that lends a rich, creamy contrast to the savory filling.
You will likely leave with the food sweats and a deep need to unbutton your pants in the car.
The chicken parm sammy also utilizes that signature gravy. It features a deep-fried cutlet on a house-made roll. The sandwich arrives double-stacked and steaming, heaped on bread that somehow stays crispy under the weight of the melted cheese and sauce.
For diners seeking variety, the chicken francese takes things in a brighter direction. The poultry is coated in a thick breading and served with a buttery lemon piccata sauce, mushrooms, and spinach. It sits atop a bed of spaghettini aglio e olio with a firm, al dente bite.
The End-Piece Lasagna continues the red gravy train and is arguably the most extreme expression of Umarell’s fried philosophy. The kitchen cuts the baked lasagna into strips and fries them in garlic oil. This creates charred, crispy edges that mimic the prized corners of a home-baked pan. It’s plated in a pool of spicy arrabbiata sauce, though an extra puddle of olive oil on the side feels a bit excessive.
Shortly after my second visit, management refreshed the menu with several new chicken entrées, a shrimp pasta, and more vegetarian-friendly dishes. That includes a meatless version of the lasagna, a smart move for a restaurant built around hearty red-sauce comfort food. While the beloved Everything Bagel Cavatelli, which was tangy and slightly sweet with an excellent chew, has sadly disappeared, the evolving menu should give regulars a reason to keep coming back. The kitchen seems to be stretching beyond its initial fried-snack identity into something more expansive.
The restaurant recently secured its TABC approval, ending its brief BYOB era. The wine list is simple and avoids the pretension of a lengthy cellar list. They offer a liter of Ercole Italian wines for around $40. It’s a practical choice; the Rosso is a light, food-friendly vino that provides a necessary acidic counterpoint to the fried appetizers and encourages long, lazy dinners.
If possible, save room for the tiramisu. The server called ours a “messy slice,” and it landed looking like a glorious, gooey heap of ladyfingers and mascarpone mousse. This espresso-forward treat is incredibly light and hits the spot. It’s the kind of dessert that doesn’t care how pretty it looks, and once you take a bite, neither will you. You will likely leave with the food sweats and a deep need to unbutton your pants in the car.
Umarell sends diners back into the Hyde Park night stuffed and dazed from the heaping scoops of pasta and red gravy. I don’t have a New Jersey Nonna; I grew up with different traditions. But sitting in a red vinyl booth at Umarell with an empty bottle of wine, painfully tight pants, and a still-half-full plate of lasagna, I felt like I understood the sentiment. It’s the kind of love language that first presents itself as overfeeding – but lingers like a warm hug.
This article appears in May 22 • 2026.
