We’ve all been there. You’re hungry. You mull the idea of going somewhere you haven’t been, like the hot new spot that recently showed up on some (ahem) esteemed publication’s “best” list. But you don’t need to be wowed. You need to be fed. And some mysterious combination of existential fatigue and gastronomical determinism points you, for the umpteenth time, toward comfort, reliability, and a minimum of nonsense: you want what you want and you know where to get it. You want your place.