One of my favorite parts of this whole human experience is that feeling you get when you walk into a place you've never been before, but it inexplicably feels like you have been there. For me, this kind of heady, location-based déjà vu is often the most palpable in restaurants.
Thanks to their briny iceberg Caesar salads and vintage Campari posters, I've been to strip mall red sauce joints states apart that felt nearly identical. There's one seafood shack in Charleston, S.C., that is eerily similar to a place that sells fried shrimp in Portland, Maine. Don't even get me started on the late-night pancake houses dotting Chicago's neighborhoods.
