Hoover’s status as a beloved family restaurant glosses over its shabbier edges. You leave Hoover’s feeling just plain good, owed to the love in the kitchen. Even the location up on (gasp) 183 manages to hang onto this fuzzy feeling, despite being a squeaky-clean sort of suburban outpost.

The meal begins with a hot basket of sweet rolls and corn bread. From there, almost all options are good. The creamy artichoke dip has a serious following. We love the meatloaf, coarsely grained and beefy, smothered in a thick sauce of tomato, green peppers, and onions. It has a hearty, peppery kick, to which Hoover’s buttery mashed potatoes are an ideal match.

Chicken-fried steak is crispy—if occasionally gristly in places—with a dreamy cream gravy. There’s punchy jerk chicken, with crisp skin and salty bite. All meals come with multiple sides (we like the okra, but mac and cheese and grits are bland, and creamed spinach is soupy). Yams are outstanding, flecked with cinnamon. Even after all that, it’ll be hard to refuse some peach cobbler à la mode. Portions are huge; often, the sides are meals unto themselves.

This also being an “icehouse,” there’s a full bar and wine list, neither of which is recommended, but a bottled beer selection including Red Stripe, St. Arnold’s, Guinness, and Real Ale, among several others, is totally loveable.