A word to the wise: most restaurants are overflowing at 6:30 on a Saturday evening. Hungry patrons cower in the doorway, eyes sweeping the dining area for an empty table with the desperation of a ship full of immigrants craning their necks for a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. They pray to the technology gods for their little space-age buzzers to sound, light up or vibrate signaling the advent of gourmet salvation.

This phenomenon was the reason that two friends and I ended up at Tuscany Grill. The restaurant was our second-string choice; its red neon sign had been exerting its mysterious power over us for several months, and the 25-minute wait (compared to an hour and a half at our first choice) was the deciding factor.

Tuscany Grill is an odd little Italian-esque island situated on an archipelago between Fazzoli's and Macaroni Grill. The décor is a combination of modern exposed pipes and cobalt blue lamps, and a color scheme that evokes childhood memories of Shoney's, complete with a buffet in the middle of the room. As we waited for a table to become available, I began to feel distinctly out of place. I suddenly understood the meaning of the phrase "family dining." Everyone else in the restaurant seemed to have (or be) a child.

The menu features, as the name suggests, a variety of grilled steaks, as well as a large selection of sandwiches and a build-your-own pizza option. The absence of a substantial selection of pasta dishes is a bit disconcerting. I don't have the menu now, but I believe there are six different pastas. The price range is ¯ for most entrees.

After much deliberation I ordered the parmesan chicken sandwich. In all honesty, my decision was motivated more by the homemade potato chips that accompanied it than by the sandwich itself. Both of my companions ordered shrimp scampi. My sandwich was decent but, as I'd predicted, the chips, served with the obligatory ranch dressing for dipping, were better. If nothing else, Tuscany Grill gets points for quantity. My plate was full, and the shrimp scampi actually had an impressive number of shrimp (although my friend later told me that some of hers had been sandy).

For dessert we shared a chocolate brownie sundae, which the majority of us concurred would have been much better without the pecans.

Our waitress was extremely cooperative; not only did she split up the check with no complaints, but she even volunteered to split the dessert among the three checks.