I am a Houstonian. The SideDish readership, I would assume, sees nothing odd about that. I’m a Houstonian living in West Texas. Now we’re getting somewhere … or nowhere, depending on your opinion of the region.

I made the move from big city to big sky and through the contrast have learned a great deal about our fair state as well as a great deal about myself as a Houston native. One resonating lesson after living for the better part of a decade in West Texas are the things I took for granted growing up in Houston. Rain, for example, is far more interesting out here than back home. People talk about it like some lost city of gold, churches pray for it as if it were some literal instrument for washing away sin, and if it does show up it isn’t unusual to see people taking pictures and dancing in the street.

What’s the biggest thing I miss about Houston? Restaurants. Yes, there is food here, but my appreciation has deepened for the diversity, creativity and passion that is so commonplace on a plate back home in Houston. I have literally dreamt of dishes a short eight-hour drive away. It’s funny, the things you long for when they’re abruptly absent. Mine range from Ouisie’s Spud and Brennan’s turtle soup to comfort dishes like the shrimp cocktail at Goode Co. Seafood and beef fajitas at Ninfa’s. They’re all a bite of Houston and all sorely missed, even after all these years.

One such eatery that comes to mind when I think to myself of being hungry and home is the Avalon Diner on Westheimer in River Oaks. With its linoleum floors, worn leather booths, wall decorations from a bygone era and a lunch counter that dates back to the 1930s it isn’t fancy, but it is definitely home. The menu covers the usual diner suspects – greasy burgers, big breakfasts, endless cups of coffee, chocolate shakes and so forth. But what sets that food apart from every other clone is the flavor of something home-made and cared for before it was slid onto your plate.

The waitresses, although grouchy at times, are as much a fixture in the diner as the furniture. The same familiar faces pour my coffee today that used to wink at me when I was in a highchair grabbing for my grilled cheese. A testament to the diner’s fare is the crowd you’ll usually be weaving through on the way to your table. Get there early, grab a booth, order the migas and count yourself lucky to be a short drive away from something so definitively Houston.

In this short SideDish series, Hungry For Home, we’ve asked a few native Houstonians who have been relocated (dislocated?) to share their cravings for Houston dining with our readers. Drew Kennard is a graduate of Texas Tech University who now resides in Midland, Texas. He spends some of his limited free time sharing his talent as a musician with the rest of us who can only jam on and rack up a bar tab. — Taylor Byrne Dodge, SideDish editor