THE new restaurant Barbounia is very easy on the eyes, relatively easy on the ears and not so bad on the stomach, either. But it's kindest of all to another part of the body, which is less delicately evoked and most often consigned to euphemism.  How to put this into appropriately fuzzy language? Let's just say that no matter where inside Barbounia you sit and no matter how long you sit there, you will feel cushioned, coddled and grateful.  The barstools actually have some give, descending a few inches when you put your full weight on them. Chairs in the dining room are broad, soft and upholstered. Banquettes are pillow-paloozas, as suitable for napping as for noshing.  In a city where diners' physical comfort often gets too little consideration, Barbounia is practically a massage of a restaurant, and its magic fingers reflect a broader eagerness to please.  That attitude doesn't always work in the restaurant's favor. Barbounia's Mediterranean menu smacks of a bit too much market research and a bit too little inspiration. Although the restaurant's most obvious geographic allegiances are to Greece and Turkey, the cartography is permissive enough to encompass Italy, a more reliable culinary draw.  There are categories on the dinner menu for cured meats and for Italian cheeses, and the carbophobe intent on simply prepared slabs of protein will find a category ("from the grill") for those, too. There's a crudo dish  in this case, yellowfin tuna  among the appetizers, and there are sunchokes and polenta among the sides.  These strategic inclusions may be the right recipe for popular success, but they render Barbounia less distinctive than it could have been. You relish and remember the sitting in part because it's easy to forget the eating, which is often appealing but seldom exciting, cause for little smiles rather than big sighs.  That Barbounia works as well as it does is in many ways surprising, given the turmoil before its November opening. The original chef, Matthew Accarrino, departed, and at the last minute Michael Cressotti, who worked as a corporate chef at Sushi Samba, was put at the helm.  At least Mr. Cressotti was literally familiar with the waters. Years ago he worked at Patria, the nuevo Latino exemplar that inhabited this space. Barbounia's food is less ambitious than its predecessor's, and the dishes vary widely in appeal. It's the kind of restaurant best navigated with detailed instructions.  For a starter, try a grilled kebab of minced beef and minced lamb. Why did it summon memories of meatballs? Because there was parsley and Parmesan in the mix. Why did it taste so big and rich? Because there was lamb fat as well.  Or go for saganaki, a pool of molten kasseri cheese. Does hot liquid cheese ever disappoint? If it isn't something like Velveeta, the answer is no, and Barbounia cinches that verdict by adding a bevy of dark bread and an array of bright fruit  apples, grapes, pomegranates  to the equation. This restaurant knows how to assemble a nice spread, be it cheese or salumi. It understands the value of a good visual.  But it stumbles in other regards. Marrow bones were awash in a reduction of red wine and veal stock that competed with the marrow instead of complementing it. A mushroom moussaka needed more seasoning and less eggplant, and a Greek salad needed a twist or a tweak of some kind, especially when the price tag was $12.  A risotto entree with braised duck, butternut squash, cinnamon and truffle oil was blander than those ingredients suggested it would be, though Barbounia deserves credit for not going bonkers with the truffle oil, as so many restaurants trying to take easy routes to emphatic flavor payoffs do. Pan-seared veal medallions were tough during several visits.  Rabbit braciola is a better bet. As with so many rabbit dishes, the rabbit seemed incidental; joking aside, the meat could almost have been chicken, except it wouldn't have sounded as lofty on the menu.  It looked fancy on the plate. To the right was a cylinder of loin wrapped in Serrano ham. To the left was slow-cooked, shredded leg meat in a shell of phyllo dough: Bugs in a blanket. Both components were terrific.
Barbounia conjures enough atmospheric pizazz to wind you up while paying enough attention to basic creature comforts to let you wind down.