I’ve been eating out a lot lately, for one reason or another. Last Thursday I felt sick and worn out, there was no food in the house, and I didn’t want to cook. I craved one of the incredible bowls of Japanese udon noodle soup with tempura shrimp from the family-owned Ittyo, right down the block from my house, that costs $8 and cures all ailments. But I started to wander through the Porter Exchange mall/bazaar where Ittyo is located, and I found the Rustic Kitchen that opened a few months ago.

Rustic Kitchen is a chain originally owned by Todd English that he gave to one of his original partners to settle some lawsuit between them. I’d never been to a Todd English restaurant, but I had a gut feeling that this place, and any other restaurant currently or formerly associated with English, should be avoided. He has always seemed like the celebrity chef who cooks for Boston tourists and others who have primed themselves to believe they’re having a good dining experience. That’s why I think his restaurants are mostly confined to Quincy Market (the Boston tourist Mecca) alongside places like Legal Seafood that have a great reputation only among people who don’t live here. I should’ve listened to my gut, but Rustic Kitchen’s menu spoke louder with the lush adjectives of faux high end cuisine.

So I ordered, to go, a $19 seafood stew with saffron that sounded great. My rationale: I feel gross, I’ve had a long day, I need this more expensive soup, because somehow it will be better. Fifteen minutes, she said. Ittyo takes five, but okay, this is slow-cooked French food we’re talking about. They’re probably out back picking the herbs right now… in the parking lot.

But I wouldn’t know, as there’s no view into the kitchen at Rustic Kitchen. I did notice right away that the dining room was not exactly rustic. It felt more like someone’s idea of what rustic feels like. It’s rustic in the same way that The Cheesecake Factory is rustic. In other words, not at all. It is engineered rusticity: too clean, too perfect, too new, too well lit. No restaurant with a TV—especially a plasma TV—behind its bar should have the word “rustic” in its title.

Ittyo, on the other hand, is a rustic kitchen exemplified. Its kitchen takes up most of the stall that it’s located it, leaving enough room for maybe five tables. Peering over the counter into the kitchen, you might see big pots of broth on a huge gas stove, tempura frying, a little radio tuned to slightly off of an AM station, noodles flying all over the place, and a couple cooks who are totally absorbed in what they’re doing. While you wait, you can see, hear, and smell your dinner being prepared. There is no plasma TV, nor is there a bar for it to go behind, but it’s totally visceral. And totally rustic. Charmingly simple and unsophisticated.

Meanwhile, back at the “Rustic Kitchen”, I stared blankly at a muted ESPN News while waiting for my food. A full thirty minutes later, it finally came out. Five minutes after that I was home again, tearing open the package, only to be confronted by a pile of lukewarm, overcooked seafood in a puddle of broth. Ittyo’s soup comes in a huge bowl filled with a rich steamy broth and lots of goodies mixed in with the noodles, and I was expecting something similar here (sans udon). I knew a French “stew” implied a thicker broth and less of it, but this was ridiculous: there was maybe 1/4 cup of broth here. But even after accepting that I didn’t get what I’d imagined, this stew just wasn’t very good. The caper berries were way over-salted, the piece of bread on top was burned, and there was no detectible hint of saffron in anything. The seafood was just OK. Mostly cheap mussels. Two shrimp. A couple clams.

So next time you’re in the Porter Exchange mall, I urge you to visit the real rustic kitchen: Ittyo. In fact, it’s well worth the trip out to Porter Square next time you feel the cold-weather blues.