The average San Diegan has probably driven past Georgia’s Greek Cuisine a thousand times while nudging through the heavily congested district of Loma Portal along Rosecrans Street. The restaurant’s commodious glassed-in patio and blue-lettered signage poke into sight for a fleeting moment amid a franchised jungle, which explains why it’s taken me years to finally hit the brakes and pull into its plaza parking lot.

Over time I’ve heard sporadic raves about the food at Georgia’s, named after the owner who greets you with an aggressive Greek accent, a madcap smile and turbulent black hair. Georgia founded the kitchen in 1977 before moving it from Normal Heights to this challenging location in the early ’90s – the relentless blare from ambulances, freight trucks and Harley daddies whizzing past doesn’t exactly send you to some placid island in the Aegean Sea.

Sitting inside presents another set of problems. Though bright and quaint, tables are positioned too closely around the open kitchen, so the din from oven fans and clanging plates warrants a double dose of aspirin.

My dining companion and I settled for the patio, adorned with nurtured greenery and the pleasant aroma of baked pita bread wafting from the dining room. We skipped the usual dolmades, hummus and flaming Saganaki cheese appetizers and instead tested the loukànika, a Cyprus treat of charbroiled sausages normally flavored with coriander and orange zest. Here, they struck a closer match to good old-fashioned Italian sausage overstated by fennel. The supposed orange peel printed in the menu description was undetectable.

The house Greek salad (included with dinner entrées) was slightly more on target. It included plenty of cubed feta and onions, but only a single kalamata olive surfaced and the dressing fell squarely into the category of creamy Italian. A basket of piping-hot pita bread served with a plastic cup of tzatziki helped nudge us out of Italy.

My companion, who arrived famished, chose the Moussaka for his main course, which ranks among the heaviest dishes in Greek cuisine. The layered concoction packs in spiced ground beef, veggies and fried potatoes, all bound together with béchamel sauce. The portion was big, and the overall flavor was pleasing and delicate.

Less exciting was the Greek Style Chicken I ordered – a half bird that lacked seasoning and dried up in the baking process. Only the thigh meat offered a hint of moisture. Perhaps I’ve grown too accustomed to those rotisserie chickens from the supermarkets, which suck in the added flavors of garlic, lemon and herbs much better. Thankfully, a big, fat lemon wedge came on the plate, along with delightfully fresh green beans and a flavorful baked potato that was obviously cooked with the chicken and caught most of its juices.

The atmosphere became progressively chaotic as we approached dessert. Screeching sirens continued piercing the patio walls and a rambunctious party of 10 seated next to our table put the wait staff in a frenzied, fast-forward mode.

Even a trip to the restroom provided no respite from the clamor. The restroom is situated off the heart of the kitchen, which means traipsing past a gaggle of cooks who wave hello as you dodge into what looks like a utility closet. So strange you almost expect to see a falafel ball roll in from under the door.

We concluded our meal with kataifi, a nicely constructed pastry log that looks like a hairy caterpillar from the shredded dough it’s made with. The walnut filling was wet from honey and boasted a buttery, cinnamon flavor that was terrific.

Georgia’s menu features all of the usual suspects of a Greek restaurant; souvlaki, gyros, meat kabobs and classic avgolemono soup, which we felt needed a higher dose of lemon, which normally enhances this creamy rice-and-chicken mixture.

Did we satisfy our craving for Greek food at Georgia’s? Sort of.

Would we ever dine again along not-so-rosy Rosecrans Street? Without high-performance earplugs, probably not.