There’s something so comforting about bistros in Europe, those unassuming little places with clipped-down sheets of paper for tablecloths: good wine, hearty food, drink- and conversation-oriented — not to mention Gauloise smoke so thick you want to pillow your head on it.

The intimacy advantages can fail to scale up successfully, as we’re reminded every time we step into a packed and noisy bar-oriented American restaurant. Meritage, however, demonstrates how to do it right.

This is as bar-centric a restaurant as you can find, but the usual handicaps are finessed fairly well. Customers perch on high stools around a large square counter area that fills nearly half of the restaurant, but acoustic ceiling tiles keep the noise down. Smoke could be a problem for the surrounding tables, separated only by a half-partition. But in addition to smoke-eaters, the ceiling above the bar is recessed to accumulate the outpourings of even unfiltered Camels. We sat perhaps 20 feet from the bar, near the smokeless gas fireplace. Air pollution wasn’t an immediate problem, but Johnnie noticed the next morning that all her clothes reeked.

Meritage is a wine designation, an American blend of Bordeaux varieties, and the restaurant doesn’t let you forget its viniferous opportunities. Bottles are racked at the door, and bunches of grapes adorn the menu cover. Wine offerings fill the last two pages of the foldout menu. The choices represent a wider ranging than the exclusively domestic list presented when Meritage opened in 1999. There are now selections from Italy, France, New Zealand, and Newport Vineyards. In the table sections, European liqueur and wine posters maintain the message. There is a clever wine special on Sundays. With two entrées, you can get a free bottle or choose a better wine with $10 off.

Before this, Meritage’s owners opened Chardonnay’s in Seekonk, Massachusetts, which is no relation to the now-closed Warwick restaurant of the same name. The menu is the same at both their places. I wish that this list would be studied like a religious text for the ways it allows diners to fine-tune dishes. For example, you can add pepperoni, grilled chicken, or crumbled sausage to any pizza — and for only 50 cents.

The grilled pizzas all start with Havarti and snappy Romano underneath and build from there. Johnnie felt madcap enough to select the most bizarre-sounding of seven choices and hit upon our waitress’s favorite: pineapple and BBQ chicken ($9.25). It was pretty good. The pineapple pieces frolic in the barbecue sauce for a tangy little sweet-and-sour party on the tongue, and the occasional chunk — not thin slice — of prosciutto gives texture and heft to the flavor combination.

Among the appetizers, we appreciated the " zippy shrimp " ($9). A " Cajun-teriyaki " marinade adds a little zing to the medium shrimp, which were grilled, but not overly so, and served over sautéed spinach. The appetizers include five varieties of sushi, or you can start off with one of eight salads or an antipasto. The house salad is extra, at $3. You may do a version of the pizza add-ons noted above, bolstering your salad or pasta with a grilled item: portobello, chicken breast, or shrimp.

Johnnie had a pasta, the penne Puttanesca ($14). It was done at an al dente level that satisfied our Mama Bear and Papa Bear preferences. The anchovy saltiness was also right-on, and the kalamata olives were of a good quality. The sauce was thick and bounteous, full of tomato pieces as well as puree.

The rest of us at the table happened to all be in high-protein moods, which worked out successfully with every choice. The least challenging, the filet mignon ($19.50) was a 10-ounce tenderloin simply adorned with a cabernet and shallot butter. My rack of lamb ($19.50) was plentiful, medium rare as requested, and served with a deeply flavorful mint-tinged red wine demi-glace that was the taste hit of the table. The last entrée, grilled pork tenderloin ($16.50), was served under a delicate pesto cream sauce that was unusually well balanced. These dishes came with skin-on mashed potatoes and string beans that still had some snap to them, complemented with some broccoli and red bell pepper.

Desserts are made here, or assembled, in the case of the several Ben & Jerry’s ice cream items. A S’mores Campfire Ice Cream Pie was tempting for the prospect of marshmallows being lit at the table. But Johnnie and I chose the banana split ($6), since the banana is supposedly grilled to draw forth the fructose. It wasn’t heated enough to even soften much, but the generous amount of B&J’s Best Vanilla in the World made up for the disappointment. The classier couple at the table chose crème brûlée ($6). Its caramelized sugar crust was conveniently thin and the taste was rich and velvety.

All in all, a pleasant dining experience at Meritage. Even without Jean Paul Sartre blowing smoke in my face from the next table.

Bill Rodriguez can be reached at billrod@ reporters.net .