The old-fashioned American square meal isn’t dead (yet). BRITTANY WRIGHT
In a city with about 2,300 restaurants, the dining options are daunting. You can spend Sunday afternoon hunched over an aromatic bowl of pho, Tuesday evening pinching up turmeric-stained lentils with spongy pieces of injera, and Friday night slurping briny, freshly shucked Pacific oysters.
But, every now and then, I miss the less exotic choices of my youth, of American-style family dining. I miss questions like “Baked potato, mashed potatoes, fries, or rice pilaf? Soup or salad? Ranch, blue cheese, Thousand Island, or Italian?” These were the flavors of familiarity and comfort, of the days when my best friend and I would sneak out of the house to eat at a country-kitchen-themed, 24-hour restaurant…