I remember the days not so long ago when you could walk into a restaurant and be greeted by name. You'd know at least half the waitstaff, all of which were men, just from the neighborhood. And you'd be served your favorite dish, the one you'd ordered time and time again. This is what it was like for me growing up in South Philly.

Italian American restaurants could be found on every corner back home. And maybe the food was not as good as mom's but it was good none the less in a comfortable, familiar sort of way. You had your top pick, where you went on a night out.

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Source: http://www.thedailymeal.com/