Before the advent of grade inflation, "C" served as a catchall, gathering underachievers into one nebulous mass. Top students presumably skated on to A-list careers, and failing added a touch of dangerous "cool" to one's reputation. The rest huddled in the middle — fodder for prime-time programming, a lifetime of grunt work in some vague cubicle and a fancy dinner at T.G.I. Friday's.

For the most part, there's nothing wrong with being in the middle — average, after all, is inoffensive. In culinary terms, it's the formula that chain restaurants use to great effect: Stick with familiar, unchallenging flavors and the crowds will respond.

For a moment, I wondered if the cumulative effect of three visits had bored my taste buds into a deep late-afternoon finance-seminar-type sleep. I checked by scooping up a little of the dry, powdery Parmesan stand-in (think Kraft) decorating the plate and recognized its sharp, chemical flavor.

Nope, I was fine. The tartare, on the other hand ...

Something called steak rollatini — two thin strips of beef, browned and rolled over a mix of spinach and risotto — fares better, thanks in part to the rich tackiness of Arborio, along with an interesting raspberry-balsamic reduction.

It's difficult to fault such common, everyday dishes. Like the ordinary ballyard in the Kevin Costner classic (is that an oxymoron?) Field of Dreams, unpretentious foods have a communal power, pulling us back to things comforting and familiar. That's why a gooey grilled cheese sandwich and bowl of tomato soup, say, satisfy many Americans. That's why greasy fish and chips drenched in vinegar became a British icon. That's why dumplings and goulash remain local staples despite the array of more sophisticated options. They are warming, nostalgic and, above all, easy to understand.

Toss into this equation the almost universal popularity of Italian cuisine, however well or poorly prepared, and Gusto becomes near impossible to condemn. It's approachability squared.

Besides, Gusto serves pretty good pizza by Prague standards. The menu starts with Margherita and other traditional creations before veering off into more daring territory: salmon, Hawaiian — even a dessert pizza. I settled for the eponymous version, topped with pancetta, tomato and peppers. The combination lends a bright aspect to the flavor profile; vegetal and fresh, with only the brackish backlash of cured ham to drag things back down to ground level, where wafts of smoke and a touch of salt linger. Although the crust lacks the perfect cracker-crisp snap, it's not at all bad, with a lightly browned finish and a noticeable whiff of yeast.

And here's good news: If you prefer to eat at home, this place delivers.

In the end, Gusto is just like one of those underachieving students. It's clean, well-mannered (servers blow the curve, grading out better than average) and unchallenging. I can't help but recommend it for lazy, everyday meals or a night out with the kids.