I live in an old, once-redlined streetcar suburb, and my folks are about a half hour away in a new, nearly-exurban tract home development. They love to see their grandson and are happy to babysit him when my wife and I want a date night, but we’ve just about stopped taking them up on that offer because every restaurant in a reasonable distance from their neighborhood is some mediocre, mid-market national chain that’s utterly devoid of charm, serving plates that have been ruthlessly value-engineered to minimize the need for specialized equipment or skilled talent in the kitchen. The area is quiet, I guess, and I’m sure the land was cheap, but there’s no there there.