On a Wednesday night at 10, Formaggio Grill is humming. The high communal tables surrounded by barstools are filled, the dozen or so four-tops are filled, and the bar, backed by an impressive booze collection and an even more impressive wine locker, is filled.

Partners Wes Zane and Almar Arcano have taken their popular Formaggio Wine Bar in Market City and turbocharged it with a cool, high-ceilinged space and an expanded menu. And Kailuans are eating it up.

Opened in January after more than a year's delay because of a permit snafu, Formaggio Grill is already the town's meeting place. And it may be the only place in the world where you can follow up beef bourguignon with hamachi kama and potato latkes.

With a big open kitchen, the restaurant is capable of serving more ambitious items than its older sister, and along with tasting plates are big dishes. The number of sections on the menu is dizzying — "hot pot classics" (braised boneless short ribs, paella), "wine bar favorites" (bruschetta, escargots), "great steaks" (rib-eye, T-bone), Hawaiian fish (whole moi, Chinese-style 'opakapaka), soups and salads, pizzas, pastas — and there's more.

Zane and Arcano, O'ahu restaurant veterans (Arcano cooked at Hy's Steak House for years), have their formula nailed: Give dishes fancy Euro names, but serve what often is actually dressed-up plate-lunch food. They know their customers' palates.

For example, the lamb and leeks "hot pot classic" is the best local curry I've ever had, dotted with tender, flavorful meat, carrots and potato — it comes in a Le Creuset casserole but cries out for two scoops rice (which, in fact, you can order on the side). At $21.50, the money would have been better spent on the lamb tagine at George Mavrothalassitis' late Cassis by Chef Mavro. But then, Cassis didn't have the convivial configuration of Formaggio Grill that makes it feel like a neighborhood party every night. It's hard to get everything right.

Ceviche ($14.99) is a martini-glass full of excellent seafood — lobster, scallops, shrimp — but it's missing the extra tangy trademark of the dish. There's a wedge of lemon on the side, and I used it. (Again, I missed Cassis' wine bar, where you could order the best ceviche in town.)

Thin-crusted pizza is so thin as to practically be lavosh. A margherita ($10.99) was topped with a Boyardee-ish marinara sauce and slices of feeble fresh tomato. A "Kobe burger Wellington" ($19.99) sounded intriguing but turned out to be misguided. What was requested medium rare arrived well done, which erases the whole point of high-grade wagyu beef. This construction involves foie gras, pastry crust and a perigourdine sauce, and the elements just didn't come together.

Zane and Arcano have left the Market City original to man their new spot. On one recent Wednesday night, Zane brought our New York steak (although not the version I had ordered) himself, poking at the already-sliced meat with a knife asking, "Is this good for you? We can throw it back on the grill." Uh, can your kitchen cook a steak medium rare or not? (It can.) I had actually ordered the peppercorn version of the steak, but the waitress thought I had asked for the plain New York strip ($29.99). So she brought a cup of the sauce after most of the meat had already been eaten.

Whole moi (fried or steamed, $28.99) is a nice piece of fish, but the delicate flavor is lost to a super sweet and vinegary ponzu butter sauce. Likewise, the caprese salad comes with two pungent sauces, one a sugary balsamic, the other a pesto, but instead of overpowering the fresh stuff, they make up for the barely pink flavorless tomato slices.

Amid all that, the foie crostini hits the mark, the huge piece of liver (a deal at $16.50) cooked perfectly and accompanied by squiggles on the plate of classic port reduction. So the foie sits on an oversize slice of French bread; you don't have to eat it all.

On one visit, dishes arrived at a nice pace, which allowed for sampling of a couple of wines (if you get the 2-ounce pours) with each dish. On another night, the kitchen fired everything at once, and the house salad (a nice "meaty" composition of mesclun, diced bell pepper, goat cheese bits) and lobster bisque (standard issue, although it's billed as soup "to live for" on the menu) arrived just minutes before steak, lamb and leeks and moi, so half the things were cold before we could get to them. The waitress apologized, explaining that the kitchen usually took longer to cook things, but that didn't make things right. The meal was done in about 20 minutes.

You can see that everyone is toiling hard in the kitchen, Arcano orchestrating the activity. But hey, it is an open kitchen — dude, don't have your plastic bottle of Pepsi on the cutting board as you're working.

And don't even get me started on the live FM lite soundtrack. If I have to listen to "House at Pooh Corner" one more time, I'll stick myself with a steak knife. The stylish decor and late hours deserve at least some Alicia Keys.

The extensive wine menu is the source of lots of fun oeno-education, with clever, insightful notes for each entry. If you discover something you like, you'll likely be able to buy it locally (like the New Harbor Sauvignon Blanc, perky with guava notes, I picked up at R. Field). While the list may not take many chances, there are enough wines to keep things interesting for seasoned sippers, such as the DRC A&P de Villaine Les Montots. Be really clear if you want the 2-ounce taste; more than once that's what I asked for and got the full 6-ounce pour.

OK, so the food and service don't live up to a critic's expectations — what does she know? Which is more valuable to a Hawai'i diner: a well-executed mouth-puckering ceviche or a come-have-fun sense of humor?

I leave you with this gem on Formaggio Grill's menu, from the "H20" section: "Kawainui Tap: An ordinary cuvee from reservoir and mountain streams. Medium body with partial clarity and fine unknown particles. Unsettling aromatics of beer can rust, moss and rubbah slippahs lead to a truly forgettable finish. Absurd yet flaccid with a hint of tadpole. When only 'good enough' will do. Served free upon request, but wouldn't you prefer one of the selections below?"

Lesa Griffith, a former features editor at The Advertiser, is now a freelance food writer.