Everyone knows that Italians are exuberant and generous with their food, but one does wish the Famularos (they're brother and sister) had shown a little restraint. The traditional family dishes--lasagna with chicken and sausage, a Christmas Eve specialty of tiny pasta shells with a salt-cod cream sauce--are splendid. And only a prig could object to such un-Italian condiments as curry (for curried walnuts) and soy sauce; mingling of ethnic traditions is by now not only acceptable but welcome. But once again, a genuine enjoyment of cooking and eating has led to inane excess. First: you take the chicken breasts, saute in champagne sauce and bedeck with truffles. Munificent enough for any capo, yes? No. Proceed to tuck the chicken into a crepe and then pour on the second sauce, itself made up of equal parts of yet two more sauces--tomato and Bechamel. All the saucing to be done by hand from scratch, naturally. Famularo does his cooklng at a country home regally named Tara North. In such grandeur one might tolerate broiled lobster flambe with bourbon, quail with quince, Madeira and brandy, or those other gluttonous miscalculations which take away from the natural abbondanza of Italian feasts.