At night, the low-slung roof and garish yellow sign of the Columbine Steak House beckon like an Edward Hopper painting. Through the window, passersby on Federal Boulevard can witness a throng of waiting diners, queued up to order a simple and cheap steak, kissed by fire, leaking fat and blood and flecked with a touch of salt and pepper. Columbine has been serving steaks for more than a half-century, and what you'll get on your plate is exactly what your parents and grandparents would have gotten here. Bring cash and leave the coat and tie at home. ($$)