Try the chicken-fried steak.

That is what everybody says whenever The Mason Jar comes up in conversation, and sometimes even when it doesn’t.

A woman leaned over to me at a busy downtown restaurant last week when she saw a plate of chicken-fried steak slathered in country gravy in front of me and said, in a what-the-heck-are-you-doing-here tone, “Have you been to the Mason Jar? Theirs is awesome.”

I have been to the Mason Jar. When I was a kid, my sister and I were allowed to pick the place to go out to eat on our birthdays, and the Jar was in a small and highly esteemed rotation with Fargo’s Pizza and a now-defunct Chinese place.

I doubted the menu had changed at all. And judging by the always crowded parking lot, neither has the popularity.

Recently, the Mason Jar, which opened its original location in 1982, opened a new location up north, so I figured it was time to go back and see.

The new spot is in the old New South Wales. What had been a not very good Australian-themed surf-and-turf place has been country-fried with antique jars and lanterns, a wagon wheel or two and, yes, surprisingly realistic log cabin wallpaper.

Drinks come in mason jars. You half-expect the servers to wear overalls.

Think Hee Haw, but without the corny jokes.

The dining room is quite comfortable and has a stunning view of Pikes Peak.

We piled into a comfy booth and ordered appetizers as soon as the server greeted us.

The menu is just as it was back in the day. So, of course, chicken-fried steak was in order.

For the uninitiated, chicken-fried steak is a beef flank steak, pounded thin and tender, slaked in seasoned batter, then deep fried. It is thought to be a Texas version of Wiener schnitzel cooked up by German immigrants who came to the south. It is almost always pinned under rich, peppery country gravy with mashed potatoes on the side. In the city, they sometimes call it country fried steak. Never order chicken-fried steak from someone who calls it that.

Anyway, the name comes from the fact that it is battered and fried like fried chicken, and it gave rise to a redundant offshoot, chicken-fried chicken, which is not the same as fried chicken. Order it sometime and see for yourself.

Since Mason Jar opened its first restaurant on the west side in 1982, chains such as Cracker Barrel and Black-eyed Pea have come along to compete in its down-home niche. The Mason Jar still stands up to the corporate country folks by serving almost everything fresh and homemade.

A combo appetizer plate ($7.29) arrived with the first hand-battered fried cheese sticks I’ve seen (they usually come frozen in a bag), next to equally fresh fried mushrooms and slices of zucchini. My plan had been to sample just a few, but the plate was so delicious, four of us quickly polished it off.

The dinners showed the same by-hand prep.

Shrimp escorting an 8-ounce prime rib ($15) were hand butterflied and breaded, then expertly fried.

The chicken-fried steak ($9.89 for the small, $12 for the large) and chicken-fried chicken ($10 for the small, $12.49 for the large) both sported a thick, peppery, crunchy breading that is deservedly famous in town, covered with a rich, comforting gravy.

This food is not hip or healthful (the closest thing to a vegetable on the plates was small dishes of packaged corn) but it’s pretty darn good and you get a lot.

Stray too far from the chicken-fried part of the menu and disappointment waits. The prime rib tended toward too dry on one side, too fatty on the other. The Lemon Broiled Shrimp ($11.49) were tough and overdone. But what do you expect? No one ever says, “Have you been to the Mason Jar? Their shrimp are awesome.”

Dessert did its best to make amends. It’s hard to dwell over bad shrimp with homemade, hot blackberry cobbler in front of you.

The Mason JarAddresses and contact: 5905 Corporate Drive, 260-6555; 2925 W. Colorado Ave., 632-4820; masonjarcolorado.com

Hours: 11 a.m.-9 p.m. daily

Entrees: $7-$15

Vegetarian: Salads and sides

Alcohol: Full bar

Credit Cards: Yes

Cody Payne, owner of The Mason Jar on Corporate Drive carried a plate of the restaurant’s prime rib. Photo by BRYAN OLLER, THE GAZETTE