Yard House reminds me of that friend we all have who is smart and fun to be around but maybe just a little too wild to party with anymore — the one you tend to meet for lunch, or hang out with in the afternoon, but steer clear of on weekend nights.

On three visits to the restaurant, I had such radically different experiences that it was as though I had visited two different places.

By day, Yard House, the first Hawai'i outlet of a California-based chain founded by former Islander Steele Platt, is a fairly mellow place — the primary impression is of tasteful decor and the kind of music that causes boomers like me to hum along without realizing we're doing it.

At lunch the other day, it was "Layla" and "Cat's in the Cradle" and "Piano Man" and "No Tell Lover" that had me nodding my head and mouthing the words. The restaurant's motto, appropriate at times like this, is "Great Food, Classic Rock, World's Largest Selection of Draft Beers."

At the suggestion of my server, I savored jerk chicken with shrimp stack ($17.85), a decidedly "different" combination, he rightly pointed out: skinless, boneless chicken breast rubbed with mild Jamaican-style jerk spices and grilled, then topped with a mango-bell pepper-zucchini salsa, alongside a sizable pile of shrimp atop a corn tortilla smothered in green and red enchilada sauces and melted cheese. Oh, and don't forget the sour cream.

I can't say I understand this dish; the two halves have little in common other than roots that are south of the U.S. border. And they didn't speak to each other in any way. Perhaps it's a dish designed for people who, like me at lunch that day, whine to the waiter that they can't make up their minds.

In any case, the plate was nicely presented — colorful and appetizing. And, taken separately, the two dishes were nicely done. The chicken was cooked through but not dry, and I particularly liked that the mango in the salsa was not overripe and that it was julienned, not chopped. This cut allowed much more of the mango flavor to come through. I'm going to make my mango salsa this way from now on. The shrimp enchilada was not only a generous serving (which it should be for almost $20 an entree!) but nicely flavored with both tomatillo and red chili sauces.

My lunch date, who works nearby in Waikiki, couldn't get out of a last-minute meeting, so I promised to bring him takeout. I ordered one of a half-dozen burgers, this one claiming to be paired with fried onions and a "classic Bernaise" sauce ($11.50). I was skeptical but, in fact, the sauce did taste like a classic béarnaise and was a perfect tart foil for the rich, smoky burger, as well as the generous serving of skinny fries. I was particularly pleased with the care they took with this order: They took the time to put my friend's fries in a paper bag separate from the burger, to pack the sauce in a separate plastic container and to house the whole ensemble in an attractive box. The food arrived still hot and appealing.

On another occasion, my daughter and I met some friends for pupu at Yard House on a Saturday afternoon, noshing on small plates I don't remember (I was having fun, not taking notes). My friend's husband ordered a beer sampler — a rack of smallish servings — and the waiter explained each knowledgeably.

Although there's no view, I think Yard House, like Gordon Biersch at Aloha Tower Marketplace, is at its best on a carefree afternoon when you can order small plates, talk, laugh, zone out in front the flat-screen TVs that are mounted in all directions, watch the people playing in the fountain outside, maybe sit at the bar and joke with the bartenders (who are very on it, by the way).

So that was the good. Here's the bad and the ugly.

Saturday night. I had called for reservations, but they don't take them. (Grr; don't get me started.) We arrive at 7. There are, of course, no tables available. They hand us a pager shaped like a spaceship. There are no seats anywhere. I'm wearing high heels (my stupidity). My husband orders an Anchor Steam ($5.25); I have the house sauvignon blanc (Firestone, $8).

The music — and, this time, it isn't "Piano Man," I can tell you that — blares at club level. The crowd is young, a mix of locals and visitors much more interested in each other, and the beer, than in eating. We wander around, taking in the smart decor in tones of copper and slate, and the brightly colored artwork that is somewhere between cubist and fingerpainting, but somehow it works.

Our eyes begin to glaze over. The pager doesn't go off for an hour and a half. My husband has by this time given the place a new name, "The Longest Yard." He's considering divorcing me for someone who doesn't have to go out to dinner at places like this on a Saturday night. I don't blame him.

We eat clam chowder ($6.45 — it was OK); Hawaiian poke stack ($11.25 — not bad); lobster, crab and artichoke dip ($10.95 and how could you go wrong with that combination?); grilled top sirloin ($21.95 — excellent) and, because I'm a sucker for this dish, macaroni and cheese ($16.45, a delightfully smoky, chunky, filling melange of roasted chicken breast, meaty bacon, mushrooms and cheese drizzled with truffle oil — decadent!).

By 10, we were outta there, our tummies full, but our heads pounding.

Bottom line: If you decide to visit Yard House, pick your moment based on your age, your interests and your tolerance for noise.

Reach Wanda A. Adams at wadams@honoluluadvertiser.com.