This week, Intermission went Hollywood, so Janet and Ruth went Home. By which we mean a restaurant called Home. And although the name might conjure up suburban images of domestic boredom, this San Francisco culinary destination isn’t your Momma’s diner. It is, in fact, nothing short of a glammed-up Castro institution that houses enough glamour to flood the spacious pages of Intermission.

Following a hot tip from a blonde smartie who knows her SF gourmet scene, we trekked off campus this weekend in hopes of expanding our already broad dining horizons. Sick and bloody tired of Sushi Tomo and other University Ave. institutions, we were willing to endure even the miseries of the CalTrain in order to escape Palo Alto for our weekly culinary fix. After taking endless public transportation, for which we bought strangely shaped tickets that no one ever collected or checked, we arrived Home.

You can’t miss Home. At 2100 Market Street, the restaurant sits right in the middle of a big intersection (Church and Market). And as if the location didn’t make Home visible enough, the restaurant’s roof is adorned with a large red neon sign that emphatically announces Home’s presence. If the name “Home” makes you think Stepford Wives or Easy Bake or even Laura Ingalls Wilder, you’re sure to be persuaded otherwise by the restaurant’s publicity material, all of which contains a picture of Home’s mascot — a fabulous tranny Lucille Ball in full makeup and pearls, blowing a kiss straight at you — yes, you, sweetheart.

Needless to say, Home welcomes all our brothers and sisters, if you know what we mean. You know what we mean. Let’s just say it’s in the middle of The Castro, and it seems to be a neighborhood institution. And Home certainly deserves its stellar reputation: the food is quick and affordable, the menu consists of creative twists on old favorites and the whole place feels like a party you didn’t know you were invited to, but now you’re here, and you might not know anyone, but dammit, everyone is going to have fun. Smiles are thrown around liberally from customer to waitress to bartender to customer, and it’s impossible not to fall victim to the restaurant’s contagious high spirits.

Home serves dinner from 5 p.m. until midnight, seven days a week, with the addition of weekend brunches from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. (we suspect said brunches to be heavy on the Bloody Marys). Given Home’s late week-night hours, the restaurant is something of a hot spot — the bar is lively and busy, and Home also offers an outdoor patio for parties, dining, etc. We caught a Friday night dinner at around 10, and even though it was past every good little girl’s bedtime, there were quite a few naughty girls and boys entrenched at Home’s chic bar, in their diner-style booths and at their tables. Consequently, we waited about 10 minutes for seats, but the maitre d’ was so charming that we didn’t mind.

Janet was hungry, and Ruth was feeling picky, but we were both delighted by the menu, which is short but well-constructed. Home’s general concept is “comfort food,” which doesn’t mean that the dishes are unsophisticated, because they are, and it also doesn’t mean that the restaurant isn’t vegetarian and/or diet-friendly, because it is. It just means that if you come Home craving some soul food, you’ll get it in generous (and caloric) portions, but with a twist. Instead of serving sloppy Joes, for example, Home offers sloppy Joe dip with corn chips, sour cream and red onions as part of the appetizer menu. And speaking of appetizers...

We started with French onion soup and duck/vegetable spring rolls with chili dipping sauce. Each dish was about $8, which we deem entirely reasonable, especially because it’s The City, where prices are not low. The soup was all that French onion soup can ever hope to be: salty, tongue-burningly hot,and swathed in perfectly melted cheese. And then there were the duck/veg spring rolls, which were sinfully fried and rapidly consumed. Other available appetizers include tomato soup, mussels and a Mediterranean plate. Not a traditional re-creation of soul food, but it’s the sort of quirky, indulgent fare that, we imagine, appeals to San Franciscan souls, not to mention ours.

Ever the pious one, Ruth ordered the Cobb salad for her entrée, and Janet countered with the flat iron steak, accompanied by French fries and red wine butter. The Cobb was chosen from a whole lineup of bunny food, which included a ham and melon salad, a spinach and blue cheese concoction, a field greens affair with cranberries and feta, and others. The Cobb (which involved chicken, bacon, avocado, tomato, blue cheese, romaine, etc.) was generously heaped and packed with fresh, colorful ingredients. Janet’s artery-massacre of a meal was smartly seasoned with zippy garlic and red wine and was served up in proportions too great for even the most rollicking of adolescent metabolisms.

The rest of the entrée menu looked delish, too — the bass/shallots/capers combination seemed particularly daring, while the pot roast and meatloaf loitered in the background as safer, more comforting options. Home also offers a nightly dinner special, in addition to a modest selection of pastas, burgers and sandwiches, as well as a side-dish menu that includes mac & cheese, corn bread, etc. The entrees generally run around the $12 range, which again is pretty good for The City. And one most definitely gets what one pays for — the portions are generous, the service is efficient and unobtrusive and the quality is indisputable.

Lamentably, we ended up too stuffed to look at the dessert menu, but as we write this, we’re getting pretty hungry, and we are not unmoved by the thought of Home’s black and white cake and/or berry pie a la mode. And, if we were much much older, we would be sorely tempted by reasonably priced margaritas and an extensive wine list. But we’re not.

While Home is priced comparably to the Palo Alto Creamery, it’s certainly chicer, and the environment is much much much more “night out” than “look at us drinking one milkshake with two straws.” But at the same time, Home manages to be casual and friendly; the staff is completely attentive and charming; and the restaurant seems to be peopled with regular customers who imbue Home with a familiar, club-y atmosphere. We know, gentle reader, that the delicate juxtaposition between “down-home” and “getting down” is difficult to imagine, so the best we can do is suggest that you go Home ASAP.

For more info, visit www.home-sf.com.