At Tallyrand in Burbank, enjoy classic food in a classic setting

In New York, much is being made of the reopening, after two decades, of the truly venerable Brooklyn steakhouse, Gage & Tollner, which dates to 1879. But then, that’s New York.

Here in Los Angeles in 1879, well, the Southern Pacific Railroad had arrived just three years before — and it was 13 years till the discovery of oil in the region changed L.A. forever. Burbank had just been born. And it would be many years until Tallyrand opened on Olive Avenue in 1959 — which was, way back when, the first major street through the region, just north of what eventually would come to be known as the Ventura Freeway.

Which means that, even though Tallyrand may not be old in New York terms, it sure is ancient in terms of the Valley. And even more notably, it’s an amazing reminder of how we ate way back when — and how tasty and satisfying the cuisine of yesteryear still can be. This is nostalgia cuisine, a journey to the food of our parents and their parents — but without being campy or pseudo-anything.

It simply is what it always has been. As the

menu says, a destination for, “Family, Friends and Traditions.” And for “Our Famous Turkey Dinner,” served day in and day out. Trends may come, and trends may go — but “Our Famous Turkey Dinner” is forever. No less a luminary than Huell Howser says so on the menu!

There are so many details at Tallyrand that feel like they’re from way back when. From the affable chattiness of the servers — did mine call me “Hon”? It’s possible — to details as small as the utensils wrapped in a paper napkin, held together with a skinny rubber band. Who does that anymore? Indeed, who did it ever?

And then there’s a menu, heavy and bound in clear plastic, just as all menus used to be in the Before Times, with its cartoon of a fry cook next to the name, wearing a toque, with a neckerchief, and a long-handled spatula in one hand. Beneath the cook, there’s a watercolor of the restaurant, with the name spelled “Tally Rand,” and an American flag flying overhead.

There’s an essay on the significance of the restaurant on the dessert page (“Our Famous Sundaes”) telling us that “Over the years, Tallyrand developed a reputation for delicious food and good service. We have made the commitment to serve the best food in town.” But mostly, there’s the food — first read about with a mild sense of incredulity — a turkey dinner, with herb dressing, homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, soup (recently, chicken noodle) or salad, baked potato or steamed vegetable, sourdough bread or muffins. For $15.95.

Who does stuff like that anymore?

There are chicken fried steak, beef liver in grilled onions, a Fisherman’s Choice latter of breaded cod, shrimp and scallops — a dish that makes me feel like an 8-year-old in a Hawaiian shirt I used to have decorated with cartoon characters. And so many dishes bring back sweet memories from my lost youth. The beef liver, “smothered in grilled onions,” which wasn’t nearly as overcooked as my mother’s. (For years, I thought beef liver really was supposed to have the texture of shoe leather!)

And how about the appetizer sampler of onion rings, zucchini sticks, chicken fingers and mozzarella sticks — a dish that I haven’t had in years. Tasting it again was like meeting an old love on the street, and discovering the flame never died. The clam chowder, properly thick and creamy, is served on Fridays — just like it always was back when Friday was fish day.

There are dips as well — both French with tritip, and turkey — both on a French roll, both with au jus.

And how many memories do those dishes recall?

Ditto the Club, the tuna melt, the turkey melt and the super melt (albacore and cheddar) — sandwiches defined more by their layers of cheese than anything else.

And is there bacon? Of course there is, for bacon is a touchstone of this era of dining — the bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich (with or without avocado), and the egg salad sandwich with bacon, which is a new one to me, and a dish about which to dream, as strange as those dreams might be.

And no, as much fun as the food may be, not everything is a defining version of what it is. I do wish the grilled salmon had been cooked a bit less — and the vegetables with the salmon had been steamed a lot less. But then, those imperfections make them seem as if they’re really of the time — back when salmon was never undercooked, and veggies were never served crisp.

We didn’t have to use our teeth a lot then, I suppose. Especially not on the tapioca pudding — a dish I haven’t seen since Pluto was a pup. And it made me wonder about the absence of rice pudding. And chocolate pudding as well. And Jell-O. Lord, but I grew up in a sugar haze. And I miss it so.