“I hope they still serve jalapeno poppers,” my friend Eve says as we start our drive to Longueuil, a suburb on Montreal’s South Shore. It’s a frigid night in December, and despite the literal hundreds of more interesting dinner options closer to home, Eve and I are on our way to Jack Astor’s Bar and Grill. Neither of us has been to a sit-down chain restaurant in over a decade. We’re both childless city-dwellers in our thirties with somewhat discerning palates—which is to say, we’re kind of snobs. Plus, we’re queer. The family-style chain, with its standardized menu and atmosphere catered to the heterosexual family unit, wasn’t exactly made with us in mind. 

Our relationships to casual dining spaces weren’t always so lacklustre. For Eve, who grew up in rural Ontario, driving forty-five minutes to the nearest town to eat at ...