By MERIDITH FORD
Journal Restaurant Critic

SEEKONK -- Perched on a bar stool at Chardonnay's, I've been told I'll have an hour-and-fifteen-wait. It's a Friday night, and they don't take reservations. So I've resigned myself to settling in, despite the rumblings in my tummy as the clock ticks toward 8 p.m.

A glass of riesling is becoming a crisp, sweet companion as I mull the appetizer menu. Thank goodness for appetizers. I could be happy here, perched on a bar stool, just munching one of them for the rest of the night.

And I'm far from alone -- the bar is as busy as the dining room. Thirtysomethings abound -- women in clusters, men in packs, a few stray couples and lots of singles. The place is packed, and no one who comes through the door seems the least bit daunted by the wait -- this is where they want to be.

But indecision rules as I contemplate a slew of grilled pizzas. Ah! There it is -- a pizza Athena -- just what I was pining for. Word is that the pizzas here are very good. Wood-grilled.

This one, smothered in mixed greens, sliced black olives, sprinklings of tart feta cheese, and sliced tomatoes and red onions, lives up to the rep. Crispy-edged, with a chewiness to the inside of the crust, it's a crunchy salad splashed with a pungent balsamic vinaigrette on top of a thin-crusted pizza.

Really crowded

Rarely does a restaurant wait actually take as long as the quoted time. An hour and 16 minutes after I sat down, the little electronic pager that flashes red lights like a slot machine started going off, and it was time for a table.

Walking through the dining room is when you notice how really crowded it is. Every table is full. The bar is full. This is a neighborhood place that evidently includes more than one neighborhood.

Passing by low-lit tables and copper-clad walls, I'm seated at a table away from the fray -- and away from lighting of any sort, too. I find myself straining so hard to read the menu that I have to use the candle on the table to see it.

Chardonnay's -- and its sister restaurant, Meritage, in East Greenwich -- have a complex history. A restaurant by the name Chardonnay's opened in Cranston in 1994, owned by chef Steve Bianchini and his partner, Alfred Castiglioni. In 1997, the two opened Chardonnay's in Seekonk, but split up their partnership soon after.

Now Castiglioni is the owner, while Bianchini still acts as executive chef -- he oversees the menu but no longer works in the kitchen. That job is filled by kitchen manager Keith Kolinsky.

The menus, by the way, are the same at both Chardonnay and Meritage, right down to the desserts. And it's a credit to Bianchini and Kolinsky that there are lots of good-sounding things to eat: Standards such as fried calamari, nachos and steamed clams.

Perplexing sushi

There's also -- in what I would deem a mostly American/Mediterranean-inspired menu -- an entire section of sushi. Among the appetizers, there's also something called a tempura roll, consisting of a deep-fried California sushi roll (or a tuna roll).

This is perplexing. In Japan, a chef can spend a lifetime learning either of these arts -- tempura or sushi -- and Japanese chefs often specialize in one or the other. I'm not sure why anyone would want to combine them.

(General manager Michael Danahy told me later by phone that although Kolinsky is not trained professionally to make sushi, the sushi is made on the premises daily. He adds that it is a big seller.)

Okay, I'll try one of the deep fried rolls.

While I'm waiting for it I'll plunge into "the ultimate wedge" -- a hefty slice of iceberg lettuce with loads of thick, creamy-yet-chunky bleu cheese dressing all dressed up with juicy tomatoes, bits of bacon and sliced cucumbers. Why is the simple combination of bacon, lettuce and tomato so good?

I'm glad it is, because even after dipping my deep-fried California roll in the tangy, salty flavor of a ponzu (a soy-and-sake-laced sauce), I decide that sushi, sashimi and the like are better left -- big surprise -- uncooked.

On to happy

I am happy, though, forking through a fillet of cod. Its white flesh is an inch thick at least, and light-and-flaky textured. Wrapped in a musky cornmeal crust, it's crunchy in spots and tender in others, smothered with tangy crushed tomatoes and golden lentils.

Darker and more brooding are juicy medallions of pork tenderloin in a brightly flavored barbecue-punched sauce of brown sugar and port wine pepped up with tangy Dijon mustard. This is even better with the small bits of pungent gorgonzola sprinkled everywhere. The plate is piled high with buttery smashed potatoes, rich and dotted with perky black pepper. They prove the perfect vehicle to smear with the sauce in a very unladylike fashion.

I conjure my remaining strength to order one of the best things on Chardonnay's menu -- the grilled dessert pizza. This is a lovingly misshapen, hand-formed crust of grilled pizza smeared with sweet blueberries and sliced bananas, then drizzled with raspberry sauce and creme Anglaise. I am even happier now than I was with my forkfuls of cod.

Afterward, I am sated and tired -- and waiting just a little too long for the check. Rieslings and flaky fish are becoming a spinning blur.

Solid in my memory, though, are grilled pizzas and pork tenderloin. They leave a lasting impression as I walk past the crowd of people still waiting to be seated at 10 p.m.