Lost in the translation

At Carrabba's, the servers are young, peppy, and energetic. They need to be, in the frenetic environment of this bustling dining room, with its tile floors, mauve stucco walls, and faux arbors, all leafy and covered with tendrils of grapevines that are clearly of the no-nonsense fake variety. On a busy night, even during the weekdays, this place fills up quickly and the staff members working the hostess station often stand right outside the front door (where the handle is painted to look like a chianti bottle) holding clipboards and passing out beepers; the wait can be as long as an hour on the weekends.

One night, waiting for a table, my friend Carol and I sipped iced tea and chatted with the bartender, a broad-shouldered guy who looked like a turn-of-the-century bartender, complete with a handlebar mustache and starched white shirt, which might cause one to think that Carrabba's is a family-owned eatery that has been around forever. But like its more-established chain rivals, Romano's Macaroni Grill and Olive Garden, Carrabba's is a modern restaurant that's accessible, reasonably priced, and serves big portions (but with a more discreet hand on the garlic press than Olive Garden). Unlike its rivals, Carrabba's gives the illusion of being an old-fashioned neighborhood joint (old sepia-toned photographs of the Carrabba family hang on the walls, along with decent pieces of Tuscan-style pottery), even though it's a corporate operation.

The fare at Carrabba's is definitely more sophisticated than the fare served by its equally popular rivals. The fragrance of the open kitchen's wood-burning grill can intoxicate a hungry diner (especially if you're stuck holding a beeper for more than 30 minutes), and the best dishes here are the grilled offerings, including a moist, flavorful chicken marsala glazed with a slightly sweet wine sauce ($12.99) and served with two scoops of garlic mashed potatoes that should have been hotter.

The 9-ounce grilled tenderloin ($16.99) is luscious, and the Chicken Bryan ($13.99), topped with cheese and swimming in a fresh-tasting basil-lemon-butter sauce is practically decadent. All of the dinners here, grilled entrées and pasta dishes alike, are served with big ol' salads: a choice of Caesar; a house salad with a creamy parmesan dressing; or an Italian version, perked up with lots of carrots and a tart, citrusy vinaigrette.

After eating an appetizer, bread, and salad, an unsuspecting diner might groan (as we did) when the generously laden dinner plates finally arrive. Carol barely made a dent in her bowl of wildly rich Pasta Carrabba ($11.99), a fettuccine Alfredo adorned with pieces of grilled chicken, sautéed mushrooms, and green peas (luckily, the Carrabba's staff happily boxes up leftovers in easy-to-microwave plastic boxes tucked into brown paper sacks).

On another visit, I was so full of sausage, bread, and salad that I just picked at my bowl of pasta and grilled chicken ($9.99) in a fragrant sauce of crushed tomatoes, garlic, olive oil, and basil. I opted to take the rest of it home so I could nibble on something sweet instead.

There are five desserts on the Carrabba's dolce menu, with the greatest bargain being the most outlandishly sinful: the delicious Sogna Di Cioccolata ($4.49), which roughly translates as a "chocolate dream." Dream? It's a fantasy, actually, this eye-popping slab of chewy, fudgy brownie, lightly brushed with Kahlua liqueur and layered with milk-chocolate mousse and freshly whipped cream. I polished off half of it at the table, had the rest boxed up, and ate the other half at 3 the following morning after literally waking up from a chocolate dream.

It was especially good after those last few bites of the leftover fennel sausage, which I also took home with me. And now I confess that I'm suffering from a failure to communicate: I forgot to praise the virtues of that grilled "handmade" sausage (which comes from a Texas factory, not from some sunny Sicilian town), even if it was a shade overcooked. I could have made a happy meal out of that single dish, eating slices of the modestly spiced sausage with big wedges of sautéed red peppers and that addictive Carrabba's bread. Bread, sausage, and chocolate are the staples of life in any language.

Carrabba's Italian Grill10586 Metcalf Lane, Overland Park, 913-385-7811

Hours: Mon.-Thu., 4-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 4-11 p.m.; Sun. 3-10 p.m.

FOOD: Three stars
SERVICE: Two Stars
ATMOSPHERE: Two Stars
PRICE: $$
OVERALL: Two Stars