Whole Foods is the kind of store that makes me want to camp there overnight. I love the unblemished produce, the fleshy olives, the international cheese selection, the meats and seafood, the composed lighting, the communal bulletin board and the organic-ness of it all. But as any gourmet-loving consumer knows, a brief shopping excursion through only a few of its aisles can equate to a car payment on a new Mercedes-Benz.

For this review I made several dine-in visits to sample myriad prepared items from the store’s recently implemented food stations, which are capable of triggering hunger when perused on a full stomach. From freshly-cooked pizzas sweating of goodness and wok-fulls of colorful stirfrys to stacked-up baguette sandwiches and tender pulled meats destined for tortillas, temptation is best avoided wearing a blindfold and nose plugs.

And, I might add, handcuffs are needed for some when stepping up to the elongated main food bar, which existed before the store’s remodel last year. Hot and cold entrees openly displayed appear for the taking, but at $7.99 a pound, they’re very much not. It is along this self-serve trod where I’ve seen customers display their least proud moments, clogging the pathway with their shopping carts and baby strollers while sneaking down morsels of meat, fish and casseroles.

Pizzas cooked in a stone oven and spread over a giant board are a decent bargain. They’re tantalizingly similar to the rectangular-shaped pies you’ll find in modern-day Tuscany. Count on thin dense crusts, herby tomato sauce or fresh pesto, along with such toppings as perfectly grilled veggies or spicy, air-dried pepperoni the size of salami slices. Breakfast pizzas topped with eggs, mozzarella, robust Parmesan and Italian sausage are a substantially pleasing alternative to egg sandwiches and burritos served elsewhere. They’re available before 11 a.m. daily. A modest-sized square slice from any of the pies will cost you about $2.20.

From the carving station, I came away highly satisfied over bone-in lamb shanks braised in Guinness, impressed by the meat’s ability to soak in the hoppy essence from the beer. On another visit, I sampled the brisket and exited the front dining area relieved that I purchased only a quarter pound of the tasteless beef, albeit for $4.10. The description card listed thyme, rosemary and onions in the braise, all of which failed to materialize on the taste buds. And the carver cut against the grain of the meat, resulting in an obstinate texture fit for coyotes.

On a day when I drained my wallet ordering from the Asian Express station, I learned to eat lo mein noodles with a spoon. Plastic forks, normally stocked at the checkout counters and in a nook leading to the bare-bones dining area, were missing from every dispenser. A “team member” had graciously gone to fetch me some, but never returned. In subsequent visits, their availability ranged from scant to plentiful.

The chicken used in the Asian dishes is free-range breast meat, which might explain why a single, one-pound entrée costs between $12.95 and $14.95 without rice. Half orders with the white stuff are generally inadequate in their portion sizes. Those average about $7.95 – nearly the price for two entrees including rice or noodles at many point-and-order Chinese eateries. But dishes like orange chicken, kung pao and lo mein are noticeably fresher and less oily in comparison. My only caveat was they lacked chili peppers. To compensate for the missing heat, I requested a side of chili sauce, but came up empty. According to one of the wok cooks, they simply don’t carry it.

My least favorite items originated from the main food bar, with the exception of a near-perfect version of chicken makhani, a popular Indian dish spiked with butter, tomato paste and chili powder. The lineup rotates every couple of days between Mexican, Italian and Indian items mixed with daily wildcards like roasted chicken, veggie medleys, rice pilaf, squash puree and more.

The bar’s “traditional turkey” is what I imagine is cooked for prisoners at state penitentiary kitchens, a jumble of stringy white and dark meat riddled by floury gravy that screamed for sage and rosemary. The Whole Foods recipe instead uses tamari and carrot powder, which somehow produces a strange bacon-like flavor that pays little tribute to Thanksgiving Day. After adding to my cardboard box a dwarf lump of mediocre mashed potatoes containing orange peel (ugh) and a plop of bland mac-n-cheese, I weighed out at $9.25.

Additionally, a sweet-tasting halibut filet that I fished from a pool of warm clarified butter was afflicted by dry edges due to its overstay in the steam table’s metal pan. Neighboring enchiladas shared the same fate. Yet opposite the hot foods are salads offering fresh ingredients, along with an unbeatable parsley hummus that I accompanied with a jumbo falafel ball. The latter, however, verged on macrobiotic matter in need of lemon, garlic and herbs.

After also sampling top-quality baguette sandwiches reminiscent of those sold in European bakeries and decent carnitas tacos from the taqueria, I was left asking: “Gourmet food emporium or glorified cafeteria?”

It all depends on where your eyes lead you. I think for now I’ll return to blowing my expendable income on the store’s regular inventory to cook at home and eat from sturdy plates instead of clumsy cardboard boxes. It is from my own kitchen where the Whole Foods name relays its integrity.