Zoës Kitchen is a crazy quilt of culinary influences

Now that Kansas City’s historic Country Club Plaza has become a magnet for chain restaurants of every stripe, from unabashedly expensive (the Capital Grille) to modestly priced fast-casual venues, there’s something familiar — as in, standard-issue eateries seen in lots and lots of other American shopping centers — for every hungry diner strolling through the once-visionary complex created by the late J.C. Nichols.

The latest addition to the chain gang is the Texas-based Zoës Kitchen, a fast-casual concept that puts a self-consciously American spin on Mediterranean cuisine. What is known as souvlaki in Greek restaurants is simply listed as kebabs here, with a choice of charbroiled beef (very good, by the way), chicken (disappointingly dry), shrimp or salmon, served with grilled or roasted vegetables, a few wedges of pita bread, a small Greek-style salad — doused with the house Greek vinaigrette — and sometimes hummus or cucumber-yogurt raita sauce. Veggie kebabs are also offered.

I’ve eaten in the one-month-old Plaza location twice now. The location — the former Annie’s Santa Fe space and, more recently, Blonde nightclub — is sleekly designed in cheery shades of tangerine and pistachio (the Top 40 music soundtrack is equally upbeat — no somber lyrics here) with artwork done by local schoolchildren; the art is for sale, if you’re so inclined. The restaurant has all the charm of a dining venue in an airport terminal, but the staff is hospitable and accommodating. And unlike most of its fast-casual rivals, Zoës uses real china and metal flatware. The napkins are paper (but made with recycled paper pulp), and the beverage cups are disposable, too.

The menu is a crazy quilt of traditional Mediterranean dishes (Greek salad, a trio of hummus dips, a very appealing quinoa salad generously dotted with feta cheese in a tart lemon vinaigrette) and ersatz creations like a chicken pita pizza or a “Gruben” sandwich made with grilled turkey, Swiss cheese and cole slaw. The two “classic” sandwiches are constructed out of chicken salad or pimento cheese, which have more in common with a church picnic than anything from the Mediterranean culinary repertoire.

Still, the meals aren’t too expensive, and the portions are generous. And if the grilled “Mediterranean” chicken topped with caramelized onions was like sawing through one of the relics of the Parthenon, the Zoës “club pita” was more appetizing than any version of this sandwich at a Subway-style shop.

There’s also a “hand-made” slab of chocolate cake that’s not as traditional as, say, baklava or galaktoboureko, but pretty fine, too. “We really make it here,” one of the employees told me. “Not every day, but frequently.”

“Is it from a mix?” I asked.

Her mood turned frosty: “It’s hand-made.”

Some questions, I have found, get lost in translation.