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With its rows of banquettes cluttered with throw pillows, and its bulbous white columns, the room looks, when you peep in from the street, like the inside of an oversize (though admittedly boisterous) Roman bathhouse. The reality of Barbounia, it turns out, isn’t half as bad as the concept. The lively open kitchen is filled with sputtering grills and clattering pots; the room’s clashing motifs blend together in a half-pleasing way after a few drinks, and even the throw pillows feel comfortable after an adjustment or two. There are helpings of octopus nicoise on the menu and souvlaki kebabs served with mint-flavored tahini. The entrées are generally good, but, true to Greek tradition, the best stuff comes off the grill. You can get fresh-grilled dorado or branzino to go with your ouzo menthe cocktail (lemonade, ouzo, mint), and the lamb chops are among the best in the city. None of the desserts are quite so good, though you can do worse in the wilds of lower Park Avenue than the smooth house panna cotta made with yogurt or the cigar-shaped phyllo filled with spiced apples. — Rob Patronite and Robin Raisfeld

Sat.—Sun., 11:45 a.m.—4 p.m.

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• Adam Platt's Full Review (4/24/06)

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• Ask Gael: What's a Barbounia? (12/19/05)