The staff at 410 is at least efficient, the décor a neon-rimmed and nostalgic evocation of diners we never really knew, and the cooking of the kind we wish mom could have pulled off or were tired of even then. Lovers of liver and onions will find this equation comforting indeed. Eaters with a craving for cornbread will be equally appeased; the restaurant’s rendition is unaffected and surprisingly light. But diners with a desire for the best in things chicken-fried and gravy-doused may be in for a disappointment.

Our own yen for family meals past takes us straight to chicken livers. Here they’re fried to a fare-thee-well, turning what can be nuggets of pink into lumps of brown with an overly crackling crust. The cream gravy comes flecked with black pepper, but the flavor is otherwise unencumbered with concern for taste. Unexpectedly, a dish of more recent vintage, the “Grilled Chicken California” with garlic-lemon-butter sauce, slices of avocado, and grilled tomato, comes across as competently rendered—despite a somewhat dry breast.

But it’s in the realm of vegetable sides that 410 shines. Relentlessly plain black eyed peas may not thrill, but stewed cabbage is good, and almost-exotic options such as ratatouille and curried okra are available. Come dessert, a “fresh baked” rhubarb pie calculatedly conjures mom—others have liked it, but we have demurred, inspired to avoid disappointment (mom made great pies) by Ricky Nelson’s Poor Little Fool on the sound system.