So many things about Noshville are lovable. The cheery, functional retro interior. The great smells coming from the kitchen. The generous portions. The potato pancakes, the nova, the Reuben, the chicken soup with the giant matzo ball. They get it right pretty much every time, and I don't really know how they are so consistently good.
One other endearing quality of the Green Hills location: on weekends, the tables are full of scruffy, puffy-faced affluent West Nashvillians who look as if they just rolled out of bed. Dirty hair, bed hair, flip-flops, mingy teeth, sweats, gym shorts. I can't think of anywhere else where you'll see this many rumpled adult bourgeoisie. Okay, maybe Starbucks. Also Bread & Company. Where else?