Every family diner should dream of growing up to be like Haab’s; to have a menu that fits on a placemat, a waitstaff that cares like mom, and enough batter and fry to make anything taste good. This is the kind of place that keeps "family restaurant" from being dirty words. Heavy wooden furniture, "pewter" bowls, and the exposed beams, all give the impression of being at a stagecoach stop. (Turns out, the beams are not load bearing, but were part of a renovation to the building after it became Haab’s in 1934.) The staff comes directly from a 50s pulp novel -- at any moment, Abraham Lincoln or John Wayne might walk out of the kitchen, you just aren’t sure which era of kitsch they're referencing. The menu is what grandma would make, excelling at "stick-to-your-rib-ness": meatloaf, spaghetti, saute'ed chicken livers, along with a few fancy-shmancy dishes like prime rib, London broil, and fish in season. Don’t wrinkle your nose at the fried mushrooms, they are perfection in batter and absolutely nothing like the soggy, breaded nonsense you find at sports bars.

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