Neon and gravy in the Church of All Hungry Saints

The Sign: From the roadway, the red neon glow of Dot Coffee Shop promises steaming cups of the stuff served up without pretense. Any traveler knows by the look of the sign what to expect: coffee in a casual setting.

The sign itself is an ode to the industrial, prefab roots of diner culture in America: Perfect geometric forms confine cheerful, looping script and the very important words, OPEN 24 HRS. The truckers, the nightshift workers and the drifting insomniac have long looked to diners for comfort and a warm cup of coffee. There's a generic charm to the diner that transforms strangers into locals just by taking a seat.

Because it's Houston, what would be a lonely Nighthawks scene takes place instead in a space that feels like a church community hall with plates of food so heavy, it's a wonder the tables can support them. As one Yelp reviewer put it, "The Dot is the reason Houston is one of the most overweight cities in the nation."

The generous proportions start outside. The sign looms large -- the case for any respectable institution off the Houston highway and the top-heavy structure is a far cry from the more streamlined diner architecture that made it so easy to transport ready-made to a new home down the road. There's more neon scrawled across the front of the restaurant, but otherwise it looks like a one-room church hunkered down against the heat.

More Information Photographer Molly Block is a veteran non-profit administrator and marketing geek who sees vintage signs as works of art and who enjoys documenting them by taking photos of them with her iPhone. She wishes that Houston had a greater number of vintage signs still standing.

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And the congregants worship one thing: a full stomach.

The Place: "Fisherman, sailors and adventurers," those were the immigrants who formed the beginnings of the Greek community in Texas, according to James Patrick McGuire, writing for the San Antonio Institute of Texan Cultures. The 1860 census, he writes, counted only two Greeks in the entire state. H.D. Pappas, who left Greece in 1897, found himself among that community.

It was his grandchildren who later started the Pappas empire, opening their first restaurant in 1967. It started with a barbecue spot and the original Dot Coffee Shop on Pierce Street before expanding to seafood, Tex-Mex and more.

"Like a lot of heirs to Texas food empires," writes Houston Chronicle columnist J.C. Reid, "the sense of responsibility (and pressure) to continue the success of the family business is palpable. But the new generation of Pappas family restaurateurs seems to take it in stride."

Off the Gulf Freeway, Dot is perhaps the least streamlined of the Pappas concepts. Inside, accents like fake stained glass windows seem to show a world more North Woods than Woodridge. On a packed Sunday afternoon, diners eat fried chicken, biscuits and mashed potatoes – all smothered with gravy. One woman even has to send her soupy dish back.

Tired children play hide and seek at their parents' legs. The dinner menu calls the sides "vegetables," but that generous title includes macaroni and cheese.

A constant rotation of waiters carries sweet tea and coffee thermoses to tables. Somehow there's always an extra chair floating around, forever in the way.

But it's the chaos that makes it special. And the food. But also the chaos. Because even with the rush, solitary diners can still lose themselves in a cup of black coffee -- the din of life a chance to ruminate on its opposite.

It's as Lawrence Ferlinghetti put it, talking about the Four Sisters Diner:

Scrambled eggs and chopped ham

the bright booths loaded with families

Lowell Greek and Gaspé French

Joual patois and Argos argot

Spartan slaves escaped

into the New World

here incarnate

in rush of blood of

American Sunday morning

And "Ti-Jean" Jack Kerouac

comes smiling in

baseball cap cocked up

hungry for mass

in this Church of All Hungry Saints

haunt of all-night Owls

blessing every booth ...