An enormous neon arrow that can be seen from the L (and possibly from the moon) points to one of Chicago's best-kept secrets: a no-frills, old-school coffee-shop. So what exactly makes an authentic coffee-shop experience? For my money, it's a vintage jukebox full of Sinatra, a menu riddled with typos and heaps of greasy food served by career waitresses. Situated underneath the Granville Red Line, this 24-hour haunt plays den mother to a disparate crowd of students, ladies of the night, burnt-out hippies, and grumpy old-timers hugging the Formica counter.

From relic Coca-Cola chandeliers to aging vinyl booths crowned with checkered tablecloths, the decor is quintessential Americana. In fact, the only indicators that you haven't accidentally wandered into the '60s are a stack of today's newspapers by the register and the acceptance of credit cards. Prices are negligible, but the menu is as long as you'd expect a short-order menu to be. Build your own enormous omelet, devour a stack of hangover-curing pancakes, or shovel in some of the best biscuits and gravy Chicago has to offer (er, at three in the morning). When ordering, it's good to keep in mind that Standee's is unabashedly low-brow, so if you ask for cheese on your eggs, you'll get two filmy slices of good ol' American. The entire restaurant smells like ground beef, so don't be surprised if you taste a little burger in your pie. Coffee is bottomless, portions are huge and service is slow—three tried and tested markers of a diner with zero pretense and major staying power.

Centerstage Reviewer: K. Tighe