When I started working as the first restaurant critic for the Hono­lulu Star-Bulletin, I was charged by publisher and foodie Catherine Shen — who was married to San Francisco chef Bruce Cost — to raise the bar on dining in Hawaii.

The first goal was educational, shedding light on cuisines beyond the home, as well as new ingredients hitting our tables, such as arugula, squid ink and lemongrass — you can guess the decade from these ingredients alone.

I dropped the education bit once diners were up to speed on the expanded scene, aided in great part by the emergence of dedicated food networks on cable television and the rise of the celebrity chefs and attendant foodie culture.

The second aim was to goad chefs to do better, and the results can be tasted today. Those who came of dining age in 2000 or later don’t know how good they have it, having never experienced the food crimes perpetuated in earlier decades. We’ve come so far that I’d become a little lax on the snarky criticism that fueled my first decade of columns.

But,­ Fresco Italian Restaurant takes me back to the old days. Waikiki is the last bastion of subpar dining due to the rotating nature of diners who are here today and gone tomorrow.

It’s not so much that the food at Fresco is bad. Some of it is good. But substance doesn’t always trump a lack of style. Here the cost of dining just doesn’t align with expectation. It’s telling that prices are not listed on the restaurant’s dinner menu online. (Lunch, cocktail and sunset menus also are available.)

When you get there, you’ll find it’s priced like a luxury restaurant, but the operation — independent from the Hilton — registers more like a coffee shop, starting with the casual, regimented setting.

They have enough staffers, click-clacking against the laminate floor, but in a mostly empty restaurant, we had to ask for bread and endure long waits for food to materialize after our server simply disappeared. When the setting is beautiful, one doesn’t mind lingering, but the tired look of the other patrons suggested most just wanted to get their food and go.

First impressions count, and we were not impressed with the bread or insalata verde ($8.95) of mesclun that looked wet and wilted on the plate. The lilikoi vinaigrette was pleasant and refreshing, but considering the menu’s overall priciness, I was looking for something more visually appealing and composed, especially because the salad’s other ingredients — gorgonzola, pear slices and caramelized pecans — are naturals for prettying up a plate.

You could probably make a meal of antipasto here, with a range of light and heavy dishes, from the classic prosciutto and melon with the island twist of mango; to bruschetta of tomato and Parmigiano, with the addition of avocado, gorgonzola, Hamakua mushrooms and mac nuts; to foie gras with Kula strawberry compote and balsamic glaze.

I enjoyed an appetizer of two pan-fried Alaskan scallops ($15.95) over smears of creamy squid ink sauce, but the hit-and-miss nature of the menu meant that I would later be disappointed by fettuccine Bolognese ($19.95) topped with beef and pork ragout, which was not the savory stewed meat I was expecting, but mere hamburger.

Similarly, roasted lamb chops ($41.95) were exquisite with a topping of pistachio mint gremolata and accompanying white bean salad, but char-grilled ahi ($28.95) flopped. The flat seared fish was close to sashimi, which didn’t quite work with tomato sauce that drenched the whole squishy fillet. It was to have arrived with roasted Okinawan potatoes, but plain mashed potatoes was offered instead. The entire presentation just seemed lazy.

For dessert, a piña colada panna cotta ($9.95) was less panna cotta than thick haupia topped with a refreshing mince of fresh pineapple and served with Maui pineapple wine jelly.