The term “Mediterranean” used in the names of countless American eateries is something of a brainteaser when you consider the countries that border the Mediterranean Sea – Italy, Greece, Lebanon, Israel and even Libya and Tunisia. What’s served in these kitchens is anyone’s guess until you venture inside and flip open their menus.

Will it be pasta or cous cous? Gyros, shawarma or shrimp scampi? Or in the case of Mediterranean Café in Hillcrest, you’ll probably be surprised to find burgers and key lime pie.

Say what?

Owner Fred Laleh, a native of Iran, steers clear of labeling the café “Greek,” as many customers might assume at first. He instead presents a tasty scramble of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern fare that includes plump-n-juicy Persian-style chicken kabobs, an Israeli version of hummus that’s extra creamy and spiked with prudent amounts of lemon and tahini, plus outsourced Turkish baklava that is nuttier and less cloying than its Greek counterpart.

As for the burgers and key lime pie, Laleh once worked at McDonald’s and grew fond of American-style meat patties. And the pie recipe hails from a former employee of the café, who wowed Laleh when she first introduced him to the Floridian dessert. The pies are sold whole or by the slice. So popular, the kitchen had unfortunately run out of its day’s supply by the time we arrived.

In these days of rising food costs, Mediterranean Café maintains some excellent bargains. For only $7.50, a friend and I plowed through a hefty appetizer combo of smoky eggplant dip very similar to babaganoush, but sweeter, plus a scoop of tabouli balancing parsley and mint (sans tomatoes because of the salmonella scare), a plop of hummus, goat cheese feta, brined olives and two petite balls of somewhat salty falafel harboring a hot and likeable secret spice. A paper-lined, plastic basket filled with warm, puffy pita bread made in-house clenched the deal.

The starter list progresses to spanakopita (Greek pastry layered with spinach and feta), hot wings (not available during our visit), dulma (the Turkish spelling for dolma, grape leaves stuffed with grains and spices), and “tufu” (meaning “tofu,” we surmised).

Kabobs abound in various combinations of beef, chicken and shrimp. The ingredients are seared on a flame grill rigged with faux charcoal coils, although given the food’s mesmerizing charry essence, you’d swear that real briquettes are used here.

I chose a beef and chicken kabob plate that included plain-tasting basmati rice served alongside Greek salad that responded well to pure olive oil and herbed vinegar kept on the tables. The beef was tough and veiny, except for one chunk on the middle of the skewer. The chicken, however, immediately reminded me of the fabulous Persian kabobs at Bandar in the Gaslamp District, where they marinate the poultry overnight in perhaps paprika and saffron to give it an appealing light-orange tint.

Gyros tasted above average, despite their usual Westernized mix of lamb and beef mince. Though stacked vertically and properly slow cooked on an upright spit for retaining juices, I often long for the old-fashion Greek version using all pork, which has become impossible to find these days in American-Med restaurants. The meat was nonetheless flavorful, offering gentle hints of oregano and garlic. Opting for a wrap over the “plate,” it came generously stuffed into a pita with raw onions and refreshing tzatziki sauce.

From the “vegetarian delights” section, we tried the spinach roll in lavash bread, containing a wild abundance of the green stuff, as well as cucumber, hummus and unidentifiable melted cheese. My companion loved it, though I found the filling to be overly fibrous and too grassy tasting for my carnivorous palate.

Pizzas anchored on thin, flaky pita crusts also comprise the menu, with about seven to choose from. We sprung for the Greek pie, both agreeing that the barely cooked green peppers on top were oddly intrusive in both texture and flavor to the mantle of melted feta and mozzarella speckled with mushrooms and black olives.

The café’s interior has been freshened up since I last visited in the late ’90s. Buttery yellow walls, slate tile flooring and wrought iron café tables now lend to an airier, more contemporary feel. A picture board of menu items perched at the counter appears like a relic from earlier days, but provides guidance when indecision strikes. Service is casual, on par with most neighborhood eateries that offer a good bang for the buck.