J. Kevin Wolfe

Crêpes are the corn dog of France. I’m serious. Head south from Paris and there are these little roadside stands where a sweaty, middle-aged guy in a “Pas De Jeune Filles De Belgique” (No Belgian Chicks) muscle shirt rolls up a 40 centimeter (16-inch) crêpe with no-telling-what-kind of savory filling inside for you.

This is going to sound strange, but if you could find the Ft. Wright Family Restaurant, it would be a great place to eat. But you can’t. Sure, it’s right off I-75, but it’s hidden next to the chiropractor in the middle of a strip mall that’s behind the credit union that’s behind one of the gas stations. Even Google Maps gives you a “can’t get there from here” alert. So forget even trying. But here’s what you’re missing: Everything’s from scratch, except the pies.

So many are eating here, but nobody’s ordering the chili. I don’t believe it’s a comment on the chili quality. I think it’s the temptation of everything else. Like the Create Your Own Double Decker, the Perfect Cut Rib Eye Steak, the Greek Omelette, the Chocolate Covered Baklava, or the enticing goetta. No wait.

You just don’t find enough restaurants with good arrowhead collections anymore. You used to see them everywhere. Didn’t they used to have an arrowhead collection on the wall at Olive Garden? Maybe I’m mistaken, but Doris & Sonny’s Homelike Restaurant keeps up this tradition with not one, but two fascinating arrowhead displays, along with their fine collection of cow memorabilia.

At last, an Indian restaurant where you don’t feel like an outcast.

It’s refreshing to find a place where the owner makes the baklava with honey and cinnamon she ground by hand.

I’ll bet it’s happened to you: you find a new local Mexican place that you like. Decent food, a festive atmosphere, and a name like Rio Ranchito or Casa Amigos or Grande Cinco Ocho. You come back a few weeks later and the name’s already changed.

It’s 5:15 on a Friday. At Richie’s in the West End, the chicken is piled high, hot from the fryer. They don’t do this because they think they’ll fall behind. They know they’ll fall behind. The girl behind the counter laughs with a regular: “My hair looks nappy from working here all day. All I want to do is go home and wash it. It’s Friday night and everybody I know will be in here looking at my nappy hair.” And she means everybody.

Though there are more than 200 items on the menu at Mama’s Grill, the Heartstopper clearly stands out as a regional gastro-treasure. Sure, you can get some great burgers, pasta, a hot brown, homemade soup, and some pretty amazing sandwiches.

They peek out from the behind the counter. And I know they’re laughing at me. This sandwich is a joke, right? A pound and a half of egg salad between toast? It’s impossible to pick up intact, much less get your mouth around. Ha ha. And the double deckers are an even bigger joke. There’s a guy at the next table who looks like a tenured physics professor.