Byways has one of those interchangeable mid-century Americana designs. There’s a black-and-white checkered floor, thin wood paneling on the walls, and shelves that house souvenir plates from what could be Lucy and Desi’s road trip. There are a few nice-looking benches out front, but if you sit outside, you’ll miss the metallic red booths and general sense of “What’ll it be, hon?” And don’t miss the vintage salt-and-pepper shakers.

The menu is definitely going for the Route-66 feeling. In fact, a burger with a glossy bun and curly-leaf lettuce is exactly the sort served to us on road trips by waitresses in support hose. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But the fries are the same, mealy, soulless things that no amount of salting at the table is going to help. Sysco-truck fruit isn’t a much better choice of side. But if we’re going to get a tuna melt anywhere, it’s going to be a place like this; and this one is exactly as butter-crunchy and tuna-casserole-y as it is in our dreams. Limp pickle chips and all.

Both the corned beef sandwich and the Reuben on marbled rye are mediocre—not terribly dry. But certainly not as good as Kenny & Zuke’s or Kornblatt’s. Corned beef hash, on the other hand, makes for a great, greasy breakfast. Blue-corn pancakes have a nice, creamy grit to them, and French toast is thick and orangey.

Another unexpected touch is the cool mix of music here—some samba, some old-school country, and some Southern rock. We also love the decent Stumptown coffee served here. Granted, it sits on a hot plate. But hey, it’s a diner. Sometimes you’ve got to keep it real.