By MERIDITH FORD
Journal Restaurant Critic

CRANSTON -- It's a sea of marinara out there. Cutting through it requires navigational skills beyond those of the average sailor.

And yet on the horizon is a a beacon, guiding you safely to a place where garlic and artichokes glide ever so gently over soft waves of arugula and gnocchi. A place -- Basta! Cafe -- safe enough to dock for the evening, and settle back into an ocean's worth of good regional Italian food.

This intimate restaurant's menu comprises a well-blended mix of regional Italian dishes with -- oddly enough -- a deft hand in the kitchen at sauce-making in the classic French style.

It's the blend of these two luminary cuisines that made a veal chop soar.

Described in droll tones by our waiter as a "heart attack on the plate," it was a veal chop of the bigger-than-your-head type -- tender and white -- that was split, then stuffed with ample amounts of prosciutto and mozzarella cheese, breaded, then served with a velvety lobster cream sauce draped over more melted mozzarella, as well as chunks of succulent lobster. Thinking of it tires and revives me all at once.

Exceptional appetizers

Perhaps the veal chop wouldn't have seemed so ominous if I hadn't already stuffed myself on several exceptional appetizers, not the least of which was a chunky, cheesy artichoke mousse topped with crispy, potato-chip-like artichoke bottoms and a creamy, buttery white wine sauce.

Trifolati di funghi was a combination of mostly tender cremini mushrooms mixed with baby portobellos, splashed with a tangy sherry and flavored with just the right dose of garlic and the tartness of sun-dried tomatoes. Fresh parsley is more than just a leafy sidekick -- placed under the mushrooms atop crunchy, seasoned crostini, it gives an astringent, refreshing pucker to the whole shebang.

Between all this came a refreshing salad of spinach and fresh, thinly sliced fennel -- its mild licorice flavor a perfect mate for the twang of a Balsamic vinaigrette and a meaty portobello mushroom nearly the size of a small hat.

A flaky fillet of baked cod, as another entree, puzzled me. I would never think the combination of a light fish such as cod and the heavy, maple-like flavor of caramelized onions would complement one another. But here, the tawniness of a buerre blanc laced with Marsala brought the two together spendidly.

By this time, our waiter had endeared himself to us, not only by being johnny-on-the-spot, but by doing it with an understated humor reminiscent of Steven Wright. He was busy with several large parties, but never made us feel abandoned.

All the waiters and busboys bustle through the catacomb of space between rooms with a formal air, until they light at your table -- and formality gives way to heavy and welcome doses of Rhode Island vernacular that melt pretense and put you at ease.

But it's the aura the restaurant gives -- gathered from light tones of green and maroon, with lots of warmth from the dark cherry-toned wood that dominates not only the walls but the chairs as well -- that strikes such a strong chord. White linen tablecloths give a crisp look to the dining room, and this time of year everything is dressed head-to-toe in greenery and gold for the holidays.

It's dark and cozy (perfect for a date), and yet a place where -- as this evening gave evidence to -- large gatherings are often the status quo.

Milk-chocolate mousse

For dessert, our waiter had several recommendations, admitting that while some of the desserts, such as the tiramisu and bread pudding, were made in-house, most were not (I'm told by manager Anthony Micheletti that those that aren't are contracted for the restaurant by Pastry Arts).

Our waiter's most amusing description was of something he called a "concorde." I had never heard of it, and neither had my companion -- a pastry chef.

"All I can tell you is it doesn't fly," our waiter quipped.

It was, however, nearly lighter than air -- a fluffy milk-chocolate mousse number decorated with crispy little wisps of dacquiose (a baked meringue). Its only letdown was that it was cloyingly sweet. After two or three bites, my teeth hurt.

And who needs dessert, anyway?

Basta means "enough" in Italian. The restaurant is aptly named.

Basta! Cafe, 2195 Broad St., Cranston. 461-0330. Dress is casually upscale. Reservations accepted. Wheelchair accessible. Smoking section. Open for dinner Sun-Thu from 4:30 to 8:30 p.m., Fri 4:30 to 9:30 p.m. and Sat 5 to 10 p.m. Ample parking. V, MC, AM, DC, DIS. Highchairs available.

Appetizers and salads are $4.50 to $10.50. Pasta dishes such as gnocchi Bolognese and tortellini with vodka cream sauce are $14.50 to $21.50. Entrees are $15.50 to $25.50. Desserts are $6.50. A small but well-selected wine list has an ample by-the-glass selection and bottles range from $29 to $275.