I have driven south on U.S. Highway 101 toward Portland more times in my life than I care to count. Ive done it so much that the businesses and landmarks that dot the path blend into the background; I dont know that I could name any one business in particular, but whenever I turn off to get on Highway 26, I sort of take comfort in knowing that theyre there. They are part of our coastal landscape.

The Relief Pitcher in Seaside is part of that landscape, and although Ive driven by it probably hundreds of times, until recently, I had never been there. Now, I dont mean to sound rude, uppity, prissy or judgmental, but there is a reason Ive never been there it looks a little rough around the edges. The paint is peeling, the lawn is overgrown and the parking lot is full of pot holes.

But on the other hand, the parking lot is also full of cars, and for good reason.

On a tip from a helpful reader, I put first impressions aside and ventured into the Relief Pitcher, and stumbled into one of Seasides best-kept secrets.

Make no mistake: The Relief Pitcher is not the nicest place Ive ever been in, and some would call it a dive. But still, there is a 1970s-ish sort of charm about the place, with worn brown leather chairs, fading sports pictures on the wall, and a pool table (which can be played on for free).

Our friendly server approached us right away, and I let him guide our choices off the small but mighty menu. We began with oyster shooters, a set of three, fresh oysters with cocktail sauce for the minuscule price tag of $3.85. Had I not been there to sample more of the menu, I would have ordered more. I love fresh oysters; they taste the way salty, sea air smells. I can see how theyre an acquired taste, but the ones offered here arent to be missed.

Up to the plate next were five panko-crusted, deep-fried prawns, another steal at $4.95. Hot, tasty and with a satisfying crunch, the Relief Pitcher was batting a thousand so far.

My dining companion ordered an Ahi tuna steak sandwich, and it is quite simply one of the tastiest sandwiches I have ordered at a restaurant in who knows how long. A huge, flavorful, juicy tuna steak was grilled and served between hearty, toasted slices of sourdough with lettuce. The full sandwich (there is also a half-order available on the menu) is more than a meal, especially served with hand-cut French fries. You know its a good sign when you walk in and see someone walking toward the kitchen with a handful of Russet potatoes. The French fries are incredibly tasty and savory, and they accompanied the sandwich perfectly.

A cheeseburger proved just as tasty with a one-third-pound patty, lettuce, tomatoes and pickles. I dont know that it was the most flavorful or artfully prepared burger patty Ive ever tasted, but there was something about the whole of the burger that was greater than the sum of its parts. Im reminded of the Jimmy Buffett song, Cheeseburger In Paradise: I like mine with lettuce and tomato, Heinz 57 and French-fried potatoes, big, Kosher pickle and a cold, draft beer. It was the perfect meal for the end of a long week: Simple, unfussy and totally satisfying.

Upon our servers recommendation, I also sampled the coleslaw and wasnt disappointed. Different than your run-of-the-mill coleslaw that accompanies bar food, the version at the Relief Pitcher features dried cranberries and apple slices. That doesnt necessarily make it gourmet, but it does show that the staff puts some thought and care into even the simplest of side dishes, which I appreciate.

I wondered as I was eating, given the number of people who obviously frequent the Relief Pitcher, and how tasty the food is, why an effort to spruce the place up a bit hasnt been made. What I decided, though, is that sometimes dining out isnt about that, and to the owners, staff and regulars, it certainly doesnt seem to matter. In fact, if the Relief Pitcher looked any other way, Im not sure it would have the same charm.

At the end of the day, its the food that counts. And when its very tasty served by such friendly staff, does the atmosphere really matter all that much?